Ch. 19

“In the Depths of Fear”

Halfy stands firmly by my side, his massive presence reassuring as it has always been. Zanir, a few steps away, holding his ground, his posture rigid, eyes locked on the water. He hasn’t flinched or stepped back, even though he has no powers to shield him. A mortal man now, but you wouldn’t know it by the way he stands — as if he has forgotten the limits of his new fragility. It’s almost vexing, how he refuses to retreat, as if danger is nothing more than an inconvenience. Fear should be clawing at him, but instead, he lingers, daring whatever comes next.

I watch Zanir’s defiant stance with a mix of irritation and envy. How can he stand there so unaffected, so seemingly unscathed by the terror all around us? The lake’s chill seeps through the air, but I can feel a heat rising under my skin, battling the cold the rises as my own power simmers, raw and wild, just beneath the surface.

Here I am, brimming with powers, but I am still paralyzed by doubt of my self control. I left behind my home, my friends, thinking it was the only way I could gain that control back. But this uneasiness boils within me. Am I truly in command of myself, or am I just a vessel for something I don’t fully comprehend? Zanir’s calm only amplifies my frustration, making me question whether his fortitude is from courage or indifference.

The frustration boils over, and I snap, “I traveled alone for days without coming across any wicked creatures, but it is evident that is no longer an option with you two around.” My voice comes out sharper than intended, frost coating my breath as I fight to contain the emotions churning within me.

Most of the Endless Forest paid me no mind, and I have faced lesser horrors… but this is something is…

After meeting a vampire and absorbing his power, and an enormous Akhlut, that has changed. Annoyingly so. When I said I wanted something to challenge my wandering mind, I didn’t mean a damn vampire, a Samca, or whatever is causing an entire lake to ripple and shake.

I turn my gaze from the violent seething of the lake to Halfy, who stands beside me, his fur bristling with tension. The Akhlut’s golden ginger eyes are fixed on the water, his powerful form ready to spring into action. I can feel the shared uneasiness between us, a silent bond that anchors me even as the chaos unfolds. My eyes then flick back to Zanir, who remains excruciatingly composed.

Halfy. You need to guard him. And I know how disgusting that sounds. I also know how much you’ll probably hate it, but do it for the clan, our friends, or even just me. I glance sharply at the thrashing lake, my hands clenched into fists as I stand. We need any information we can get that can help prove my worth once and for all to Mother. The forest is changing, people are going missing…We need to figure out why.

I wonder if this is why some scouts haven’t been coming home and why there has been an increase in new applicants. What does Mother know? Does she know more than she is letting on? Is this why the council has been having more meetings? Not like I was invited to any of those meeting… well, maybe, I don’t know… but still.

On top of that, I am changing. It is not just the beast that lives inside my skull and sometimes shares my skin. Perhaps the change within me is linked to the disturbances outside my narrow world. Maybe, amid my increasingly tangled journey, I can uncover not only what is happening out here, but also understand my own transformation.

We need to protect our clan, our people, our friends. Us, too, would be nice. I feel the cold, my cold prickling at my fingertips.

Halfy growls, his eyes moving toward me as the water pounds relentlessly against the shore. The creature in the lake acts swiftly, it’s undeniable. For a moment, Halfy looks at me with a pleading expression, as if suggesting we flee into the forest and never look back. But, I can’t. Not with the power on the horizon. I can taste it in the air — angry and potent, burning through my senses with a bitter, unnatural edge. It is wrong like the Samca was. Too strong, too acrid. The castle lies just beyond the creature surging through the water…heading straight for us, so my answer is clear.

Halfy. Now. I demand, my voice breaking along our bond, a mix of desperation and grievance. The pounding of the water intensifies.

Halfy’s snarl moves through the air as he looks at me one last time, his golden ginger eyes unwavering. Within seconds, he is on Zanir. With a powerful jerk, he seizes the remnants of Zanir’s clothing and yanks him toward the cover of the trees. Zanir is jolted off balance, stumbling under Halfy’s force, and casts a quick, bewildering glance back at me. His face flashes with a tumult of emotions — confusion, fear, and a hint of something darker — all swirling together in a chaotic expression that vanishes before I can decipher it further.

My mind swirls, but past the annoying calm, confusing mortal vampire, my doubts and fears, there’s an unnerving ease with what may be about to happen. I know that fighting and killing comes more naturally to me, more than I would like to admit, even though I am unsure what I will be fighting.

I am most definitely not a bat, not the “little bat” that Zanir likes to taunt me with. I loathe that nickname and everything it implies. I am so much more than that — more than I will ever admit, even to myself. My self and the reality of my capabilities run deeper than what is shown on the surface, and this truth is as complex as the powers I am starting to struggle with.

I stand at the edge of the water, taking in everything around me. The smells, the sights, the sounds — every sense is alive and buzzing. The center of the lake is swallowed in blackness, but I see colossal shadows rising from the water. Three distinct shapes, moving in different directions, each with glowing yellow eyes fixed on us. Three heads — Three long necks, all connected to one massive body. Water cascades off the creature’s scales, shimmering in shades of blue and yellow as it emerges from the depths.

Well, shit. My breathing increases. Why was this creature out? Why was it risking being exposed to the pure light of the sun?

I look at the creature again, its immense form now stretching over the mountain range behind it, and I feel my mind whirling, racing through everything I have ever read or heard. Every obscure text Oana and I poured over, every scrap of lore we joked about. There has to be something, some clue. Think. We studied creatures like this…

An image of Oana flashes in my mind, her voice animated as she read aloud from an absurdly raunchy story about a wizard fighting a Balaur dragon to rescue a princess. I remember leaning over her shoulder, scoffing at the whole thing.

“A wizard risking everything to save some delicate little princess? Ridiculous. I would never wait for a man to slay a dragon for me.” I said as my face crunched.

Oana just laughed, shaking her head. “You don’t think it’s even a little romantic?”

Now, I can almost hear her teasing tone. Back in the present, facing the real thing, I huff a quick sigh. “Well, Oana,” I mumble under my breath, “looks like I am the one doing the slaying this time.”

A dragon.

No, not just any dragon — a Balaur dragon.

It is clear why this creature didn’t care about the rising sun. Dragons aren’t tethered by the rules that govern most of the creatures in the Endless Forest — probably because they’re far from common in Adros even.

But a Balaur — a three-headed, aggressive water dragon. Why was it in a lake here in the Endless Forest, instead of commanding the seas along the coast? Balaurs are known for taking down ships and feasting on their crew, leaving only the bones of the wreckage at the bottom of the raging waters. I briefly wonder, if the dragon riders of Uscia have ever managed to ride a Balaur — because this one doesn’t seem like it wants to be tamed.

Thinking about it now, I am not surprised such a creature was triggered by our presence — the Samca’s screams, Halfy swimming through the lake, me washing off all the blood of my kills. Or maybe I could blame it on Zanir, blubbering on about our dealings — my dealings.

Either way, I am in the Balaur’s sights. Big mistake, my dragon friend. You picked the wrong girl, the wrong woman. I can’t let a Balaur threaten the human village just beyond the mountains — or the clan. If I fail here, it could mean the end of everything I have fought to escape for.

I take in everything — every inch, every moment. The raging water, the gills along the Balaur’s neck, the sun creeping past the mountain, and the dragon’s massive shadow stretching across the land. I feel the feral instinct knocking, pounding at the edge of my mind. The Balaur’s eyes — every one of them — lock onto me, pulling me from the fading darkness.

The Balaur roars from each mouth, hundreds of pale, sharp teeth gleaming as the sky shifts into dark purples and pinks behind it, the moonlight fading before the rising sun. Its wings stretch and flap, sending waves crashing along the shore — enough to knock me out of this form. The feral instinct hammers, clawing at the wooden weakened door. I close my eyes, and the door opens wide, letting the feral power flood in, filling my skull, my mind, and my skin.

Oh, Lady Mihaela. What an honor to be allowed out yet again. Kiza purrs through me. I hear the sound echoing through my head. Oh, what a sight. Hmm… I doubt you have any dragon bane, though. A chuckle runs through my skull, down my veins. Echoing through my bones.

This is why I prefer to be ALONE. I hiss and a growl moves up my throat.

I take a deep breath and open my eyes, feeling a surge of lavender light blaze across my cheeks, kindling a fierce determination. I let out a thunderous roar that echoes past the mountains. As the sound reverberates, my body begins to shift — my face elongates, my arm and legs contort, and my entire form morphs into a mirror image of the Balaur before me. Scales emerge muscles ripple, and I become the very beast I face.

As the transformation completes, I tense, feeling scales erupt across my skin and gills swell at my neck. My bones crack and shift, elongated necks sprouting from my shoulders, snapping at the air in anticipation, a reminder of the power flowing through my veins.

The form is a manifestation of raw power, and with me in control, it becomes a potent force. I have only once before transformed into a dragon, and the experience was both exhilarating and intimidating. The sheer intensity of this power sends chills down my spine. It is no wonder many seek to harness dragons as weapons, and why the people of Uscia have mastered riding them.

I faintly hear a howl from the trees behind me. Halfy is far enough away with Zanir, but still close enough to keep me in his sights. My beast. My precious guardian. Despite everything, the reminder of our bond keeps me grounded — as much as it can.

I roar into the night again, and my other two heads join in. The trees tremble behind me as the sound reflects through the mountain range once more. Mother will surely know where her unruly child has wandered off to now.

The Balaur halts, its middle head tilting slightly before it starts flapping its powerful wings with rapid, mighty strokes. It is focused on me and closing in fast.

Each flap sends gusts crashing toward the mountains, the air trembling under the force. The Balaur’s wingspan looms — at least seventy-five feet. While Balaurs aren’t the largest dragons, they can still cause serious destruction and easily break every bone in my true form’s body. Water sprays off the Balaur’s body as it moves. I roar into the air, challenging the beast, before using my powerful wings to dive into the water. If you want me, come and get me — but be ready to fight for it, and give it everything you’ve got.

Balaurs are aquatic dragons that thrive in the water, and I intend to use that to my advantage. As soon as my face is submerged, I feel the water passing over the gills on my neck, replacing the air that once filled my lungs. Water moves across my scale as if I am its commander. My eyes — all six of them — allow me to see with eerie clarity. Most would find this unsettling, but not me — not yet. I trace the lake’s bottom, which is deeper than it seems, as expected in the Endless Forest. Where could this Balaur have been hiding? Even Halfy missed such a giant beast in the lake’s depths. Large cave systems stretch beneath me, with faint fae lights flickering at the entrances. Something with magical power must be down there. This isn’t normal. What’s going on down there? I move forward, keeping one dragon head watching above and another behind me. A wave of energy courses through me as the dragon looking above sees the Balaur.

It is about to dive. Words move through my skull. Kiza’s voice is a reminder I could live without, most of the time, but not now.

With a deep exhale, bubbles flow past my hundreds of teeth, and water creates a current pushing me backward — just in time, narrowly avoiding the Balaur’s strike. The Balaur shoots past me, tearing through the water. One of my dragon heads clamps on one of the Balaur’s wings as it passes. The taste of copper fills my mouth and an unwelcoming feeling rises in my stomach. The wing rips as dark blood clouds the water. The Balaur roars, sending a rush of bubbles to the water’s surface.

The Balaur quickly recovers, its dragon heads snapping at me with feral rage. I thrust my wings back, propelling myself further from its lethal jaws. The two dragon heads attached to me snapping at the Balaur in response. But I crash into something solid — part of the mountain range that was hidden under the water. My wings twist, and a sharp pain flares down my spine.

The snap of jaws rings as my dragon heads turn their focus on the Balaur that is barreling toward me. Teeth sink into one of my dragon heads, and a roar tears from deep in my soul — annoyance. Feral instincts slam into the side of my skull — overwhelming my mind.

Let me in, completely. NOW. Kiza screams and demands in my ears.

FINE. My voice coming out in a heavy breath.

My eyes flash, and every part of me turns untamed — savage. As one of the Balaur’s heads bites deeper into mine, I swivel my head and soon my fangs pierce its scaley hide. I use my remaining strength and rage to wrap my wings and arms around the Balaur, trapping it against me, against my attack, against the thirst that is becoming unbearable. My teeth rip through scales, gills, and eventually a crack — bone — shattering beneath my fangs. Then weightlessness. The Balaur’s head falls from my jaws, sinking into the lake’s depths. Its yellow eyes fade as it disappears into the abyss of the deep lake bottom. I was taught to fight, to bleed, to hunt, and to make it count. So far, my head — or throat — count is three…tonight.

The Balaur’s screams tear through the water, creating powerful waves above us. The Balaur thrashes wildly within my grasp, jaws snapping and opening, bubble filling where the water voids the sound of its screams. I launch another attack, the craving digging into me, my fangs sink into another one of the Balaur’s heads, wrenching and splitting. With what little sense the Balaur has left, it uses its powerful back legs to kick against my chest, breaking free and surging toward the water’s surface with strong, violent strokes of its wings. The water moves away from the Balaur as if it commands the liquid.

My fangs are crashing into anything they can grab — the Balaur’s stomach, wings, legs. Each strike sends a violent shudder through my form, the impact reverberating like a drumbeat. Blood gushes into the lake, a torrent of crimson swirling around me, filling the water with a dark, murky hue that dances with the ripples of our struggle. The taste of copper floods my mouth, rich and metallic, igniting a primal thrill within me. It is a forbidden pleasure, one I can’t help but savor, even as my mind screams to resist it.

With every crack of my jaws, the iron-rich blood thickens the water, coating my tongue in a warm, viscous layer that clings to my senses, a reminder of the ferocity coursing through my veins. It is intoxicating, almost euphoric, a connection to something buried deep in my soul — the echoes of my past, the hunger of the beast I struggle to control.

The Balaur’s life force spills around me, the brutality of the moment, yet a twisted part of me revels in it. The thrill of the hunt and rush of power surge through me, a fierce storm of exhilaration and guilt. I can almost hear the whispers in the back of my mind, tempting me to embrace the darkness, to surrender to the ecstasy of blood. But I push it down, the conflict simmering just beneath the surface, leaving me breathless and hungry for me.

Murderous animal instincts pulse through my veins, my mind, this form. The Balaur cries out, struggling to reach the surface as the lake around us turns a dark, cloudy maroon. The Balaur finally breaks through the water, the head I savaged just moments ago, dangles down the Balaur’s body by some loose ligaments. Blood is everywhere — it runs down the Balaur’s body, spilling back into the vast lake below.

Soon after the Balaur, I break through the water’s surface, and the Balaur’s blood rains down on me, soaking every part of this form. Red drops fall until my once—blue form turns bright crimson. Without a thought, my tongue moves across the edges of the massive fangs filling my mouth, a smile creeps past them — probably terrifying on a dragon.

But blood…blood touches something deep in my soul, filling a part of me that is long forgotten, buried so far down that even I can’t reach it.

The Balaur limps through the air, chunks of flesh missing from its stomach, necks, and legs. Its wings are torn, the membranes in shreds — much like Zanir’s clothes after fleeing from Halfy into the trees. As the Balaur flaps weakly into the sky, blood runs down its body, leaving a trail in its wake. Without this form’s enhanced reptilian eyes it would have gone missed, but I notice a black mark, obscured under the red blood, a rune carved into the back of the beast.

A rune… a binding fucking rune. My heart pounds as the memory of another mark flickers in my mind — the Samca’s. I recall the tales whispered in the depth of the Grand Library, legends of ancient fae magic so potent that only the most powerful beings could inscribe such a symbol. It is a mark of enslavement, a tether forcing a creature like this Balaur to serve another’s will. A shiver coils down my spine. This dragon isn’t just a beast… it’s a prisoner, bound by forces I can barely begin to understand. First the Samca, now this… What is happening in this world outside?

The last remaining Balaur head screams into the air, the sound traveling through the air for miles, shaking everything in its path. The sun peeks over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange now. In mere breaths, the Balaur disappears past the mountain range, out of sight as if it had never been there to begin with. Yet the red lake below tells a different story.

I feel my veins pulsing along my skin with the feral instinct I let out. That I let course through me. That I let walk through my mental door, my protection, and gave it full control, to take over — me completely.

I make it back to the shoreline, and my form starts to change, bones snapping back into place while my mind still rages. The thud of the ground hits me, pushing everything back into focus, the reality of my situation striking me like the hard sand beneath me. I manage to crawl onto my hands and knees, but every part of me shakes under my weight.

I hear a faint whisper in my head…

You are always in control, Lady Mihaela. Kiza purrs.

I snarl at the thought, then wince as agony pushes heavy waves through me. I slam against my wide-open mental door with whatever force I have left, feeling a tear run down my cheek. My lungs rock in my chest, grasping for air where water was just moments ago, coughing replaces breathing. My hair clings to my face, matted with the Balaur’s blood — that also stains my pale skin. Only pieces of shredded fabric lay across my red flesh.

Shit. I curse, and my throat clenches as if the word graces my lips and not my mind.