The Dragon's curse

The world around me was a cacophony of distorted sounds, fragmented and indecipherable. I tried to open my eyes, but the darkness persisted, shrouded by a blindfold. Straps cut into my wrists and ankles, securing me to a wooden chair. I strained against the restraints, the panic clawing at my chest, while the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder.

A voice broke through the haze, cold and mocking. "You're awake," it announced, its tones familiar yet unrecognizable through my disoriented state.

The blindfold was yanked away, and I squinted against the harsh light that flooded my vision. As my eyes adjusted, fragmented memories began to reassemble themselves. The sight before me—a dimly lit room with grimy stone walls—brought with it an unsettling calmness that masked the growing dread within me. I fought to quell the rising panic; showing weakness was not an option.

Einri's voice, laced with a menacing satisfaction, cut through the confusion. "I hope the journey was comfortable," he said, his laughter echoing like the growl of a predator.

I tried to turn away, but his rough, unyielding hands gripped my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes glinted with an unsettling mix of cruelty and glee.

"Don't you worry, little bird. You'll be my guest for a week," he hummed, a sinister smile stretching across his face.

"And then what?" I spat, struggling to keep my voice steady.

"Then," he said, his tone heavy with dark promise, "you will be fully bonded to your dragon. I can end your misery and take what I need."

His declaration hung in the air, charged with a disturbing pride. "What you intend to do is against nature," I reminded him, though the weight of his words made my chest tighten. "There will be retribution."

Einri's smile widened. "You speak just like your father."

The mention of my father struck me like a dagger. Despite never having met him, my mother's journal had painted a picture of the man I longed to know. The pain of his absence cut deep.

"Where is Xander?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.

Einri's gaze darkened. "He's resting after carrying you here."

The realization hit me like a sledgehammer—Xander, the one I had trusted, had betrayed me. The ache in my chest grew unbearable.

"How did you convince him to do this?" I asked, desperation creeping into my tone.

"It didn't take much effort. All I had to do was show him the past. He fell right back into his old ways," Einri said, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Consuming dragon blood is warping your mind," I accused. "You're no longer the person you once were."

Einri's eyes narrowed, and he sneered. "How is it any different from what you did for your friend?"

His words sent a shiver down my spine. The realization stung—perhaps I was no better than he was.

"Which is why I'm going to right that wrong!"

The voice was unmistakable. Zayden stood at the door, his presence a stark contrast to the malevolence of Einri's room. My heart leaped with a mix of relief and fear. "Zayden! You shouldn't be here!" I cried out.

"Neither should you, Zoe!" he shot back, his hand gripping the hilt of a sword I hadn't noticed before. The blade gleamed with a dangerous promise.

Einri's eyes flicked to the sword, his amusement palpable despite the threat it posed. "How did you get in here, boy?" he asked, a mocking edge in his voice.

The tension in the room was palpable, a taut line pulled between hope and despair. As Zayden stepped further into the room, the stakes were clear: the next moments could alter the course of everything.