Chapter 7
Raven
Wake up!
Wake up—they’re coming!
My dragoness’s voice crashes through my consciousness like a tidal wave, shattering whatever drug-induced haze has been keeping me docile. Raw power floods my veins like liquid lightning, and I feel awake for the first time in what feels like forever. My body buzzes with energy, every nerve ending suddenly alive and screaming.
The golden thread of that phantom fifth bond burns to life in my chest, hot and urgent and undeniable. I feel the pull toward him like a fishhook lodged in my sternum, tugging insistently. He’s far away, but hunting—searching for me with the single-minded purpose of a predator tracking wounded prey.
The other burn that’s starting in my lower abdomen scares me more than being trapped here underground in this stone tomb. My yearly is blazing to life, spreading through my chest and belly like wildfire catching dry tinder. The heat is unbearable, consuming, demanding.
Hunt...
Hunt...
HUNT...
Her voice roars in my head, each repetition louder than the last until it drowns out everything else. My body feels like it’s burning from the inside out as the shift overtakes me. I try to fight it, but my dragoness is done being caged.
Bones snap and realign with wet cracks that echo in the confined space, sending waves of agony through me that somehow feel good. My joints pop and reform, each one a small explosion of pain and power. My muscles burn as they stretch and grow, fibers tearing and re-knitting themselves into something larger, stronger, more deadly.
Soon my prison is too small to contain my expanding form. The walls groan under the pressure before crumbling around me, chunks of stone falling like rain. Dirt cascades down from above, filling my nostrils with the scent of earth and decay. I roar, and the sound is thunderous in the enclosed space—a primal declaration of rage and freedom.
I unleash my acid breath weapon, the viscous green liquid pouring from my throat in torrents. Gas follows, filling what’s left of my prison with toxic fumes that make the air shimmer and dance. The chemical smell is sharp and acrid, burning away the stale stench of captivity.
Footsteps echo from somewhere below, bouncing off the stone walls and floor with an urgent rhythm. Multiple sets moving fast. Whoever or whatever held me prisoner is coming, probably alerted by the sounds of my transformation and escape.
I unleash more acid, flooding the chamber I’m in until it’s a bubbling pool of death. The green liquid eats through stone and metal alike, creating an impenetrable barrier. Nothing will be able to follow me through that hell—anything that tries will dissolve before taking three steps.
Reaching up with my massive talons, I dig into the earth above, using my claws like pickaxes to carve my way toward freedom. Each strike sends showers of dirt and rock raining down. Screams echo from below me as I climb—high-pitched and terrified, abruptly cutting off as my acid finds its victims.
I swing my massive head from side to side, using my horns like battering rams to help widen the tunnel I’m creating. The bone ridges crack through stone and packed earth with satisfying force.
How deep did they bury me?
It must be drow with how far down I am—they’re the only ones who routinely dig this deep. Then again, there are several species that live in these depths: driders with their spider bodies and cruel intelligence, hobgoblins with their organized brutality. I decide it must be the drow.
Ugh, not them again...The thought comes with visceral hatred. They tried to kill me before, that severed head in my room is proof they tried to kill me before.
The pulse of heat moves through my body in waves now, each one more intense than the last. My yearly is fully upon me, and I have no access to the tonic that would ease this burning need. The realization sends panic through me, sharp as broken glass.
Tiamat, please protect my mates.
Please don’t let me hurt them.
The prayer feels inadequate, but it’s all I have.
When my talons finally break through the soil and I get my first breath of fresh air—clean and cold and tasting of freedom—my dragoness roars with triumph. The sound split the sky. We lunge forward and breach the surface like a whale breaking water, launching into the sky with powerful beats of our massive wings.
I rain acid down upon the earth where I emerged, watching with savage satisfaction as it sizzles and melts. The main blast is directed at the hole I just dug, a concentrated stream of destruction. The acid pours down like green lava, making the earth bubble and steam. I circle the area a half-dozen times, methodically leveling the territory until it’s an eerie green acid-covered mass about three miles wide.
The earth within the ring of acid is caving in on itself as my breath weapon eats through everything it touches—stone, soil, vegetation, bones, whatever infrastructure existed below. A sick part of me feels profound satisfaction watching the world melt below me, knowing whoever held me captive is dying in agony down there.
A high-pitched call cuts through my bloodlust, clear and commanding. When I turn my massive head toward the sound, I see a ball of fire streaking across the sky. I stare at it, trying to determine if it’s friend or foe; my instincts are uncertain. The pull on the golden bond intensifies, tugging me forward with insistent urgency.
My mate is a ball of fire.
