I didn't move.
The cold still clung to the walls, thick and silent, but the tension hanging in the air felt heavier than frost.
Vaelith waited by the tunnel mouth, arms crossed, her braid swaying like a rope of pale flame. She didn't even turn to check if I was following.
When it became clear I wasn't, she finally glanced back.
"Of course you're going to make this difficult." she stated.
She thinks I'll just fall in line.
That I'll obey just because I'm told to.
My thoughts tried to weigh the moment. We were alone, mostly. Outmatched, definitely. I had nothing left but Frostbite and Lirian—and even he looked uncertain. Still, part of me hesitated, tried to reason.
But she didn't.
The part of me I hated. The one I didn't understand.
The one that snarled when pride was wounded.
Her.
My mouth moved before I could stop it.
"Careful, Vaelith. Keep looking down on everyone and one day, you won't see the blade until it's in your gut."
Frostbite stirred beside me, her ears pinned. Even the cold seemed to flinch.
Vaelith turned fully this time, slowly. Her eyes glittered with quiet amusement—cold and gleaming like cracked ice.
Lirian's voice came from behind me. Calm. Tired. "Enough. Just go."
I didn't turn to look at him.
"What about Lirian?" I asked, my gaze still locked on hers.
She didn't hesitate. "He's not your concern."
That burned more than it should have. I clenched my fists.
Vaelith turned again and began walking without another word. The frost beneath her feet parted like it obeyed her.
I didn't want to follow.
But I did.
The tunnel swallowed her silhouette in moments. I let the silence hang longer than I needed to, then pushed forward, every step heavier than the last.
Frostbite padded ahead, ears low, tail flicking with caution. I envied how easy it was for her—uncomplicated. Just walk. Just breathe.
We emerged into a chamber of smooth, glacial ice. The Hatchery.
The room was massive—tall enough to swallow a mountain. Every surface gleamed, not like stone, but like still water frozen in the moment it remembered movement. And above, carved in precise, deliberate symmetry, was the exit. A circular shaft straight up into the palace above.
I squinted, saw the shimmer of the structure looming over it—frozen arches, pale towers, unreachable.
That's how they get out. Fly up. Simple.
My stomach twisted.
She knows I can't shift.
She brought me this way anyway.
Vaelith didn't look at me. She strode to the far wall and pressed her palm flat against the ice.
The wall didn't crack but instead, it unfolded. Light pulsed outward from her fingers, runes lighting in a ripple, elegant and effortless. The ice pulled apart like breath exhaled too long. Cold spilled from the gap, soft and slow.
Power radiated through the chamber. Not violence. Control.
My magic stirred in response. That second heartbeat—tight behind my ribs—throbbed.
After all these years!? Not now!
I clenched my jaw and shoved it back into silence.
She stepped through the opening without a word.
I followed. Too proud not to. Too tired not to.
The tunnel beyond curved upward. The walls shimmered faintly, lit from within like veins pulsing with frost.
We didn't speak and I was fine with that. But of course, she couldn't leave it alone.
"So." Her voice echoed slightly. "Still pouting?"
I kept walking. "That's what you got from that?"
"You sulk like someone who thought biting would earn praise."
"I didn't bite."
"You tried."
A small smile tugged at her mouth. Smug. Always smug.
"You've got fire. Just no control. It's messy."
"Is that your way of complimenting me?"
"Don't mistake that for a compliment." She flicked her braid over her shoulder. "I'm only doing this because Mother said to."
Of course she is.
The tunnel straightened. The air changed again. Heavier. Older. Like the pressure of being watched by something too old to care who you are.
I felt it settle on my skin, in my bones.
Vaelith stopped at a door etched with soft silver runes and turned her head slightly.
"You are not setting foot in the palace looking like that."
I looked down at my furs—scarred leather, rough stitching, bloodstains that never quite came out.
"I survived in this."
"You're not in a ruin anymore. That look won't survive five seconds up here" Her tone didn't change. "Now you have to look like something they can't laugh at."
"Do you want me to look intimidating, or pretty?"
She snorted.
"They're dragons. They respect power. They remember beauty." She nudged the door open. "And they'll smell fear the moment you try to hide behind either."
I stepped inside before I could answer.
The dressing chamber was bright with reflected light—racks of fine robes, half-armored mantles, silks embroidered with house sigils and rune-threaded sashes that shimmered when they moved. I hated all of it.
"This is excessive," I muttered.
"You're representing a bloodline that barely tolerates you. Try not to embarrass us"
I turned toward her. "You mean yours."
"Ours." She said it too easily. "Mother made you. She chose to. That makes you ours whether you like it or not."
My throat tightened.
She made me. That doesn't mean she wanted me.
I walked to one of the racks and pulled a plain robe from it—dark blue, no ornament, heavier fabric.
I turned my back and started to strip.
Cold air kissed the skin beneath the furs. My arms. My waist. The curve of my hips.
I flinched.
This still doesn't feel right.
The silence behind me stretched.
Vaelith didn't say anything. But I knew she was watching.
The new robe slid over my arms, hugging differently than I expected. Tight at the ribs. Softer around the chest. Too soft.
I fumbled with the sash. It didn't sit where it should. My fingers hesitated over the knot.
Why is this so difficult? It's just fabric. It's just dressing.
But it wasn't.
The mirror to my left caught a glimpse of me—just a blur. Just a shape.
Still not him.
Still not her.
Just this.
I turned slowly.
Vaelith raised an eyebrow.
"Is that supposed to be tied? Or did you give up halfway through?"
I tensed. "It's fine."
"It's a disaster." She moved forward before I could stop her. "Here. Hold still."
Her hands adjusted the sash, tugging sharply.
"You're supposed to wrap this higher—not like you're trying to flatten yourself."
I pulled back slightly.
"I didn't ask for your help."
"If I didn't, you'd walk out there looking like a joke." Her voice lowered just a touch. "You're trembling."
I looked away.
It's not the cold.
She finished tying the knot and stepped back.
"There. Almost presentable."
I glanced at my reflection again.
The girl in the robe looked too polished.
Too clean.
Too much like something I didn't know how to be.
"I don't like this," I muttered.
"I didn't either, the first time." Her tone had softened. Only a little. "But you'll wear it. Because walking in there looking like prey is worse."
I hesitated then nodded once.
This doesn't feel like armor. It feels like costume.
But I kept the robe on.
And followed her toward the palace anyway.
The corridor narrowed as we walked, but the ceiling rose.
I tugged at the sash again, fingers brushing the fabric where it cinched across my waist. Still too tight. The robe pressed against places I didn't want to feel. Draped over curves I hadn't asked for.
It wasn't armor. It wasn't protection.
I am exposed.
And I hated how aware of it I was.
Do I smell like smoke?
The thought came sharp, uninvited.
Marrow. Stale water. Old blood.
It shouldn't matter. But surrounded by robes like spun glass, it did.
I tried to brush the feeling away, but it clung tighter than the silk.
The hallway opened without warning.
I stepped into a room so large it didn't feel real. The ceiling vanished into misted arches above, too high to track. Walls shimmered with rune-etched frost, alive with subtle motion. The light wasn't firelight, or moonlight—just cold, blue glow, pouring in from nowhere. From everywhere.
Dozens of figures filled the space, each one dressed in perfect precision. No scars. No dirt. Everything in place. It took me a moment to remember what they had been called.
Visage forms, all of them.
Each dragon wearing their chosen face like a second skin. Younger ones, maybe. Or older—impossible to tell. Their magic clung to the air in threads, almost invisible.
I slowed.
They turned.
Not all at once, but enough.
Their eyes found me—curious, cold, and quiet. Measuring. Some with faint amusement. Others with something closer to disdain.
I could feel their magic pressing in towards my core but suddenly hit a wall. Vaelith shielded me with her own. As she did she eyed each one of them as if waiting for a challenge. They all looked away though a few kept their eyes on me with a predatory gaze.
The robe felt tighter again. Too warm now. My steps lost rhythm.
God's I can feel them staring.
Vaelith didn't break stride.
At the far end of the chamber, past the lines of well dressed dragons and the hush of too many watching eyes, sat three figures above the rest—elevated, silent, unmoving.
I didn't recognize two of them.
But I felt them. Their Magic radiating like two suns, so strong it actually became difficult to notice.
Their presence pressed against my ribs like a second gravity.
Like the cold could watch me now.
But the third…
She didn't shine.
She didn't burn.
She didn't need to.
Where the others radiated like stars her presence was colder. Heavier. It didn't push out. It pulled everything in.
A silence that devoured sound.
She coiled atop the highest ledge, her body vast and still. Scales like polished White marble glazed with frost. Spines ridged her back in jagged rows. One wing curved slightly inward like a frozen banner. She didn't breathe. She didn't blink.
And yet she was the most terrifying thing in the room.
Sythriss.
I felt my body tesnse and eyes narrow. A second heartbeat, very faint just on the edge of what I could hear.
Her gaze hadn't turned toward me but it didn't have to.
I felt her—every part of me did. Like the mountain itself had decided to try and crush me.
The robe clung tighter. My throat felt too small. My thoughts didn't know whether to scream or go silent.
So this is what made me.
Not a woman.
Not even a creature.
A walking calamity.
I stood there, small and exposed, in a hall carved by monsters.
And I stared.