Dracoth thunders through the last stretch of snow, approaching the cliff edge. The wind howls louder, shrieking likemy mother during a particularly heated argument. But worse are the strange croaks, barks, and howls echoing from the distant trees—trees that loom as large as buildings, their tops vanishing into the clouds.
Lovely. Out of the freezer, into the giant murder forest.
Dracoth inches closer to the edge, sending clumps of snow tumbling into the abyss below. The sound of them falling seems endless, like they’re being swallowed by the earth. Already my stomach is back-flipping in protest. His idea to climb down is quickly becoming some giant-bore madness. He peers down the threshold and I make the mistake of following his gaze.
The cliff we’re supposed to ‘climb’ is a sheer wall of crystalline ice over jagged obsidian rock, shimmering with an almost mocking slickness. And the ground? I can’t even see it—lost in a sea of frosted treetops and shadows, far beneath us. My guts churn, my vision blurring as I clutch Dracoth, leaning as far away from the terrifying drop as possible.
“No, fuck this,” I blurt, unable to keep the fear from my voice. “Todd and I will stay up here in the fridge, thanks.”
Dracoth punishes me by setting me down in the snow, his grip vanishing as I shiver, my feet crunching into the freezing white.
I cling to him like a beautiful blonde and very endangered koala.
“You and your precious cyloillar will die from exposure if the beasts don’t find you first,” he states, his voice hard as the obsidian rocks below, glaring down at me.
His words send an icy wave of terror through my core, and I cast a frantic glance behind at the endless frozen wasteland, feeling utterly trapped.
“Where is the strength you’ve shown before?” Dracoth’s immense form looms over me like a red dragon, his voice low and dangerous. “The female who took joy in my suffering? Whosavored her enemy’s guts coating the walls of my ship? Who begged me to rip the hydraliths apart?”
My mind races as my heart pounds in my chest. “I... I’m not like you,” I mutter, my voice shaky with desperation, clinging to the lie I tell myself. “I’m a good person.”
“Your pathetic morality shackles your soul,” Dracoth’s voice grinds through the air, a cold, relentless truth. “The sun cannot cease to shine. It cannot cease to burn. Embrace your inner-self.” He halts like a living mountain, placing a hand on my chest, his crimson eyes burning with intensity. “As Arawnoth wills,” he adds, igniting the scorched runes on my chest.
The heat of the marks pulse—once, twice—then flares, spreading through my veins like molten iron. The cold, the fear, the voice in my head telling me to retreat... all of it fades, burned away by a newfound certainty, a truth I’ve tried to ignore.
Dracoth is right.
I straighten, squaring my shoulders as my gaze locks onto his misty red eyes. Through the bond, I sense not just his pride but something deeper—a fierce, unspoken acceptance. Then it finally clicks like a puzzle piece sliding into place. Dracoth accepts me for who I really am. He doesn’t want to change me. I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not. It feels like a massive weight lifting from my shoulders, one I’ve always carried but long forgotten was there.
“Let’s go,” I say, my voice steady, the fire of Arawnoth searing through my chest and igniting my soul.
“Good,” Dracoth nods slowly, satisfaction rippling through our bond. His pleasure is subtle, but I can feel it, a flicker of approval in the storm of his fury. Without another word, he kneels, the frost beneath him crunching as he gestures for me to climb on his back.
I grin, a surge of adrenaline mixing with the growing heat inside me.
“Yes! I get to be the big spoon,” I tease, scrambling onto his massive back. But he’s so ridiculously large that I barely get my arms halfway around him. “More like a very tiny backpack,” I mutter with a grimace.
“Hold here.” His massive hand, calloused and warm, guides mine to the metal latches of his armor. Despite the warmth radiating from his body, the cold bite of the sleek metal burns against my fingertips like ice.
He stands up abruptly, jarring my head and making me grunt as I feel like a desperate groupie clinging to a runaway tour bus.
I hear him thudding towards the cliff edge, the howling wind blowing against me, trying to dislodge me. But I hold firm with my numb fingers, unable to see anything other than Dracoth’s back armor. Probably a good thing, because my bravery is fading quicker than my exes in bed.
“Don’t drop me,” I mutter, more a prayer than a command, my pulse pounding in my ears, heart threatening to escape from my chest.
“Hold tight. I will descend quickly,” Dracoth replies, sounding distracted. His feet scuff the snow, the howling wind like a warning siren I should’ve listened to.
Still my fingers and legs tighten around him, careful not to squish poor Todd, who, remarkably, is curled up and snoring through all this.
I’m actually jealous of my pet bug.
I pry open an eye and see I’m dangling over the terrifying edge—nothing but swirling mist and trees awaiting below.
“Ahhh!” The scream tears through my lungs.
Dracoth must take my scream as his signal to drop. Without hesitation, he steps backward off the edge like a suicidal maniac—and I’m the idiot attached to him.
We plunge like the dumbest stones in history, the wind tearing through my clothes and roaring in my ears as my stomach twists violently, threatening to hurl itself out of my mouth.
