Mozrael's eyes fluttered open, but the world around her was hazy. Her vision swam as she tried to focus, the dim light seeping into her consciousness like a slow poison. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. Her limbs felt alien, heavy as though they didn't belong to her body. The dull ache spread like a forgotten memory, and it took all her effort to drag herself from the fog of unconsciousness. Her breath came in shallow, trembling gasps as she fought to stay calm. What happened? Why was she still here? Why wasn't she...
Sitting up, she stared forward at the doors, not paying attention to the maid seated next to her.
"What's wrong with Aramith and Lia?" Mozrael's voice was calm—too calm.
"Aiden said they have expended too much energy and need some time to rest and recover," The maid responded.
"I need to clean myself," Mozrael said, her tone sharp but restrained.
The maid stepped in hesitantly, her eyes lingering on Mozrael with a mixture of concern and something deeper—something like fear.
"Are you certain you should be up?" she asked, voice strained, as if she didn't quite believe the calm façade Mozrael was putting up.
"You've been through... so much." She took a small step toward her.
Mozrael noticed the maid's hands trembling, not from fear of her, but perhaps from seeing how fragile Mozrael was becoming. The maid's worry wasn't just about her physical state—it was the quiet, haunted look in Mozrael's eyes that gave away the true battle raging inside her.
"The water is already prepared, isn't it?" Mozrael cut her off, rising from the bed.
Mozrael got up without a word and moved to the bathroom. She stepped into the bath, sinking into the warmth until the water lapped at her chin
She looked out at the high window that allowed the moonlight to stream into the room, thinking of the last thing that happened when she was out in the moonlight. Her brow creased up slightly as thoughts ran through her head-thoughts of revenge.
The beast within her was calling for the blood of her enemies- Those who decided that attacking them was a good decision.
The voice slithered into her mind like cold fingers tracing along her spine. It was a constant whisper, a relentless murmur that gnawed at the edges of her thoughts.
Just let go, Mozrael... It would be so easy. Embrace it. I can make everything disappear.
The words twisted with promises of peace, of release, like a drug that would numb her to everything around her. But there was no peace in it—only surrender.
They don't understand you, Mozrael. You need this... you need me.
She had been fighting this internal war for so long, she wasn't going to allow it to take control now.
She didn't want to listen to the dragon, but deep inside, her hatred and anger was there, a seed slowly growing under her calm facade. With a sparkle of lightning in her eyes, she swore vengeance and washed herself.
She stepped out after drying herself, wearing nothing but a towel draped across her shoulders. "Leave me," She commanded the maid who left without saying a word.
Mozrael stared at the clothes prepared for her on the bed, then moved to her wardrobe to pick something else to wear. Suddenly-
The transformation was starting. She gritted her teeth, her body jerking as a sharp, biting pain ripped through her veins. It felt like her very skin was being torn apart, stretched and pulled in all directions, as if her bones were bending to an impossible will.
Her fingers clenched involuntarily, and she could feel something growing—spikes, tearing from her back, carving through her skin in jagged eruptions. The agony was beyond anything she had ever felt, as though her very flesh was betraying her.
A guttural cry was ripped from her throat, and she feared that even that might bring the dragon's influence closer, pushing her closer to the edge of the monster she was becoming. She quickly covered her face with a pillow as she let out a silent scream.
"It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!" The words tore from her throat in ragged gasps, her body convulsing against the agony. Every pulse of pain seared through her spine, the glow spreading like molten fire under her skin. It burned, carving a path down her back, growing brighter—brighter—until she felt like she might split apart.
Sweat drenched her trembling form, but she could do nothing to stop it. Every breath came in choked sobs, her vision blurring. She wasn't just in pain—she was unraveling.
The dragon stirred within her, its presence curling like smoke in the corners of her mind. It wasn't just watching. It was waiting.
Yes… yes… let it in… let me in…
The pain intensified, jagged and unrelenting. The dragon's influence was stronger now, twisting around her rage, feeding off her hunger for revenge. She felt her body shifting, muscles tearing, bones twisting into something not her own.
For a terrifying moment, she thought she had lost.
Just let go, Mozrael. You need me.
No! She fought back, forcing herself to resist, even as her limbs buckled under the transformation. She dug her nails into her palms, grounding herself in pain, forcing the beast's voice to quiet. Her thoughts burned with defiance. I won't become a monster.
The glow flickered. The searing pain ebbed, leaving behind a heavy, sickening weight in her limbs.
Her back rose and fell with ragged breaths as she stared at what she had become. Spikes erupted from her spine—sharp, jagged. Behind her, wings unfurled, shuddering with barely contained energy. She wasn't fully lost. Not yet.
A knock at the door broke the silence.
"The king requests your presence," a voice called from the other side.
Mozrael barely registered it. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her body too exhausted to move. And then, the tears came. Not loud, not desperate—just quiet, broken sobs slipping down her temples, vanishing into the damp sheets beneath her. The pain faded, the voice sinking away. Her body slowly reverted to its original form.
This was the sacrifice she had to pay for transforming fully in her fight against Aramith. This was the second time she had drawn strength from the dragon, and it would make her suffer if she wanted to remain human. If she were weak, she would turn to her greatest fear- A monster.
If only those close to her knew the pain this girl had been enduring all this while.
"Why me…?"
Mozrael wasn't sure how much time had passed before she found the strength to move. The pain had dulled to a lingering throb, her body exhausted from resisting the dragon's pull. She wiped at her damp face, swallowing down the lump in her throat. No matter how much she suffered, no one could ever know. They wouldn't understand.
And so, she forced herself up, forced herself forward—just like always.
The room felt suffocating as she sat at the table, the smell of food thick in the air, yet Mozrael couldn't bring herself to care about any of it. Her stomach was a hollow pit, her thoughts far too distant to be bothered by anything as mundane as eating.
She could hear Henndar and Kethra speaking softly to one another, but their voices felt like they were coming from miles away, muffled by the roaring in her head.
Her hands were shaking, not just from the transformation but from the silent weight of what was happening to her. She was a stranger in her own skin, surrounded by people she couldn't connect with.
Henndar sat at the head of the table, his demeanor warm but watchful, while Kethra, seated beside him, wore a smile that didn't reach her worried eyes.
"Sit, Mozrael," Henndar said gently, gesturing to the seat nearest him. His voice was kind, but the slight furrow in his brow betrayed his concern.
Mozrael obeyed, sitting with a rigid posture, her eyes darting between the two. The smell of the food would have been enticing, but her appetite was absent. It was rather nauseating. She pushed her food around, the utensils clinking sharply against the plate, a sound that only amplified her unease. She couldn't bring herself to eat.
"You've been through a lot," Kethra said softly, her voice tinged with maternal care. "And we're glad you're safe."
Mozrael nodded, her gaze fixed on the table. "Thank you," she murmured.
Henndar leaned forward slightly. "I know it's still fresh, but can you tell us what you remember? Anything about what happened?"
Kethra gave Henndar a sharp look. She's not ready...
The question hung in the air like a sword over her head. Mozrael hesitated, her fingers tightening around the bread. "I—" she began, but the words caught in her throat. Images flashed in her mind: the crackling of lightning, the snarls of the beasts, the overwhelming weight of power she had barely been able to control, Aramith's darkened eyes, his savage screams.
Her breathing quickened. The room seemed to close in around her as her thoughts spiraled into chaos. The bread crumbled in her hand, and she clutched her chest, her heart pounding like a war drum.
"Mozrael?" Henndar's voice was distant, muffled.
The dragon stirred within her, its presence rising like a storm. Vengeance. Destroy them. Its whispers were insidious, feeding off her fear and anger. Her pupils narrowed to slits, and faint blue scales began to creep along her arms.
"Stop…" Mozrael gasped, clutching her head as the dragon's influence surged. She felt the edges of her control slipping, her body trembling as the room blurred around her.
The dragon's voice curled around her thoughts, soft and insistent.
Why fight, Mozrael? You are nothing without me... You know it, deep down. Let go. Let me give you what you need. Let me show you the way.
Its whispers shifted like the winds—seductive, yet sharp as thorns, like a lover's caress that leaves scars behind. You don't belong here. You belong with me. Together, we can reshape everything.
Henndar stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Mozrael!" he called out, his voice filled with both concern and authority.
Kethra moved to her side, reaching out, but Mozrael flinched away. "Don't—don't come near me!" she cried, her voice a mix of desperation and warning. The dragon's power surged again, and a faint glow emanated from her back.
Suddenly, the door burst open, and Aiden entered the room with the quiet determination of someone who had been through this too many times. In his hand was a sleek syringe filled with a shimmering blue liquid.
His footsteps were measured, but there was something hesitant in his gaze as it fell on Mozrael, as though he saw through her calm facade.
Without hesitation, he knelt beside Mozrael, his calm presence cutting through the tension like a blade. He didn't speak at first, just set the serum down before her, his eyes lingering on her.
There was a depth of sympathy in his expression, but also a tension, something unspoken between them. He knew this wasn't just about the serum—this was the aftermath of something far more dangerous, something neither of them could control.
"Stay still, Mozrael," he said firmly, his voice steady. "This will help."
She barely registered his words, her mind consumed by the dragon's fury. Her body tensed, muscles coiling as if to strike. But before she could lose herself completely, Aiden injected the serum into her arm.
A cold sensation spread through her veins, washing over the burning heat of the dragon's influence. The whispers faded, and the glow on her back dimmed. Her breathing slowed, and her trembling ceased.
Mozrael slumped forward, her strength drained. Aiden caught her before she could collapse, easing her back into the chair.
Henndar let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Why is this happening?" he asked calmly.
Aiden rose, his expression unreadable. "The dragon's influence is growing stronger. It's feeding off her emotions—especially anger and fear." He turned to Henndar. "She'll need constant monitoring. The more it takes hold, the harder it will be to bring her back."
Kethra knelt beside Mozrael, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "She's just a child…" she murmured, her voice heavy with sorrow.
"She's more than that," Aiden said quietly, his gaze lingering on Mozrael before facing Henndar "And that's both her greatest strength and her greatest curse."
Mozrael stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She looked around, her expression one of shame. "I'm sorry…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Henndar placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle. "You have nothing to apologize for," he said firmly. "We'll face this together."
Mozrael nodded, but her heart felt heavy. She wanted to believe his words, but the dragon's whispers still lingered at the edges of her mind, a constant reminder of the battle she was far from winning.
As the family tried to regain their composure, Aiden glanced out the window. The moonlight bathed the room in a pale glow, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within their walls. He knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges—and that Mozrael's struggle was only just beginning.
Mozrael's tears came in silent, relentless waves, each drop a reminder of how broken she had become. She could feel the rawness of her vulnerability, how it bled into the room with every tear, and she hated herself for it. She wanted to stop—wanted to swallow it all down—but the flood wouldn't cease.
The worst part was how exposed she felt, how much of her heart was laid bare for Kethra and Henndar to see. It felt like she was drowning, but it wasn't just the tears.
It was the fear of what they would think of her, of how they might see the monster inside her that she could no longer hide.
"I hate myself. Why does it have to be me?" She let herself cry freely.
Everyone else was asked to leave, save for Aiden, Henndar, and Kethra who tried to calm her down.
Aiden went to Henndar's side.
" What I gave her isn't a cure. It only makes her mind sleep. The dragon is part of her and until she learns how to hold him down, she'll constantly suffer like that."
" I understand, but if he were to leave her, that would be her end."
"It was never right for her to fuse with that dragon in the first place.," Aiden spoke, though he didn't eman for his thoughts to be heard.
Henndar looked at him with a slight crease in his brows. "It was that or her death. I hope I never hear you say that again."
Aiden quickly apologized for his mistake, then looked back at Mozrael.
Mozrael wiped her face with a trembling hand, her vision blurred from more than just tears. There was a strange heaviness in the air, like something was waiting to break.
Aiden was still there, watching her with a softness in his eyes, but there was an edge of wariness, a hint of something unspoken, something dangerous that lingered beneath the surface. Her heart thudded in her chest, and for a moment, she felt an unsettling shift—a flicker of something dark within her, something that had been quietly growing, ready to rise again.
She still felt an uncomfortable feeling as she looked at him, even now, after he had helped her. As the only healer allowed to tend to her, it was'nt possible for her to keep it all hidden. He was the only person who had seen most of her suffering, her secret of hidden pains, and for that she disliked him.
Her eyes met his, and for a fleeting second, she saw the fear there—fear of what she might become. Fear of what the dragon would make her into. S
She wasn't wrong, for in his mind, once realization hit him.
He is like a prisoner in her, but then he also holds her down with his shackles