It was late in the evening when Draco had finally trudged onto his balcony. He threw himself into the frost-bitten chair casted of silver. Even the grey cushions were chilled, yet he refrained from lighting a fire, or casting a warmth enchantment. He was growing to enjoy the winter breeze as the painful cuts of air reminded him that he was still alive. Her fickle wind reminded him that there was still something to fight for.
Draco let his head fall back over the back of the chair with a heavy sigh. He was spent. If there was ever a moment he wished for Theo's return, it was now, if only to steal a cigarette from his pocket.
The Dark Lord hadn't been within these walls when he had arrived home to the manor earlier, which was far better luck than he deserved. However, the increased presence of death eaters was unmistakable. His insufferable aunt now came and went as she pleased, but she was the least of his concerns. She was at least equally encouraging as she was deranged and murderous. No, it was the others that hammered against his will as they needlessly inquired how the repairs on the vanishing cabinet were progressing. He had lied with the promise it was coming along well, instead of not at all. Draco winced remembering how they had begun to strategize their attack on his school.
It was too soon. Time turned its pages all too quickly.
Draco rummaged through his own pocket and pulled out the enchanted galleon. It's magic was tied to an identical one that he had placed snuggly in Dahlia's pocket. He flipped it between his fingers as his anxiety charged, making him restless. Draco squeezed the coin as if it was Dahlia's star-blooded hand. He just needed to step back and look at all the cards on the table — rationalize it all.
His first priority was keeping Dahlia out of the grasp of the Dark Lord. The second priority was that fucking cabinet. The vanishing cabinet had to be repaired, which ultimately led to his eventual murder of Dumbledore. His stomach turned at the thought, it wall becoming all too real as his time ran out. He wasn't sure if he could kill one of the only men who wished to see the best in him, but his own life was on the line. Worse, his mother and father's lives might be on the line. Draco ran a hand down his face — he didn't know where to find the capacity to worry about whatever Theo was currently plotting.
He raised his head and looked out to the expansive gardens. The pond reflected all the stars of night beneath the swaying willow tree in the far distance. The speckles of blooming white roses within the looping garden almost mimicked the night sky as they glowed under the moon against the blackness. He wondered if his love would be too obvious if he turned all the blossoming roses to dahlias. He was weary of anyone catching onto their relationship now the Dark Lord had a ransom out for her.
Draco turned as he heard the quiet footsteps of his mother. She traipsed somberly through the windowed doors in black night robes. He couldn't bring himself to share her disastrous smile. She looked worn; her false exterior crumbling. Draco grimaced. He shouldn't have left her here alone when he would soon, inevitably, have to return to school.
She squeezed his shoulder before sitting herself down on the small glass table next to his chair, as if the opposite seat was too far.
"I've missed you," she whispered warmly, despite the ward of silence that surrounded them. Her smile remained steady as Draco placed his hand over her own and squeezed it. He glanced back out to the garden with a slow exhale. There was comfortable moment where they listened to nothing but the wind whistle beneath the bright stars.
Draco broke the sweet silence softly. "Have you seen the Notts?"
His mother sighed as if she had been interrupted, likely pretending she was here in a distant time under different circumstances. "Not my sweet Theodore. Although, Alexander is here late in the evenings. Quite eager to please." Her face twisted in distaste. "Struts through the halls like a goose. I try to keep him outdoors with the other wildlife."
Draco narrowed his eyes; calculating, but said nothing.
"Has she returned?" His mother asked.
Draco nodded with a questioning lift of brow, unclear of how his mother knew he had returned Dahlia back to school — well, to The Order. He had sent one message through the fireplace at the safe house, confirming he was alright. He made no tell of how nervous he had suddenly grown, worried if his mother knew the promises him and Devereaux had exchanged that dreadful night; her future hand for her sworn safety.
"I managed to speak with her father, privately. The Dark Lord calls on him often now," she replied stiffly.
Fuck , he thought.
His mother shared a look that threatened to scold him for what had been done — what he had promised Dahlia's father for the chance to make her a Malfoy.
Draco shifted uncomfortably and placed a hand beneath his chin as he leaned against the arm of his chair. "Thank you for sending off the house elves at the other residences. You know how they like to gossip. That was a good call," he answered, stalling the impending conversation that loomed.
His mother glanced to the sky pensively as if she searched for answers. She lowered her gaze to meet the exposed ink that lived in permanence upon his arm.
"You lied to me when you told me she wasn't gifted." She shook her head with hard eyes.
"I'm sorry," Draco murmured earnestly. He meant it. He contemplated if he had lied only as he had wished it wasn't true for his own sake.
His mother cracked at the soft admittance and quick apology. Her shoulders relaxed as she crossed her slender arms. "I know you are aware that it is not wise to love her."
Draco dragged his fingers down his cheek with an expression that edged between defeat and triumph. "I can't help it," he whispered. He didn't want to help it.
His mother shared a pleading look, begging him to see clearly. They stared at one another as they reached an exasperated dead end. He knew it wasn't about the fortune he might waste or the bridges he might burn, his mother only concerned herself with the protection of his heart — to keep it beating, and from breaking.
She didn't understand, and Draco couldn't bring himself to disclose the bond they shared. It felt too private and all too precious.
"She's safe there," he added in a firmer tone, less vulnerable.
"And what of it when she is not? When the war worsens and Dumbledore is dead in only a few months?" Her tone was full of toughening love.
Draco shook his head emphatically. He tightened his jaw as his frustration soared. "Then we will hide her if that is what she wishes."
"And if that is not what she wishes?" His mother replied smoothly, as if it would surely be the case. "That's not a life, Draco. You'll get yourself killed for not turning her over eventually."
"Then so be it!" Draco snapped venomously.
His mind raced as he searched for answers. He pulled his eyebrows together. "What if she willingly serves the Dark Lord?" Draco blurted. The idea had been drifting in his mind beneath the surface. It was almost too awful to say aloud, but he had briefly shared it in the confidence of Xavier to test the idea for flaws.
"She's a pureblood. What if she embraced the Dark Mark?"
His mother pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head. "I won't have that for Valeria's daughter — not after what we've learned of her fate and the Dark Lord."
Draco continued, finding reason. "The Dark Lord won't be able resist the allure of her, something close to a god, bowing to him. She could promise him the hope of her line continued, future seers in allegiance, while we bide our time — wait for him to-"
His mother gripped his arm with widened eyes. "Do not utter it, Draco."
Draco leaned closer, whispering. "She made the Dark Lord bleed in one of her visions. I've seen her almost move the stars. Her mind is strong, even he could sense that she was more powerful. She will not break."
Draco suddenly flinched as he reached for his chest, his heart furiously wrapped in fear. Her sudden fear, so strong and abrupt it had coarsed through their bond. He quickly shot back a questioning apprehension cloaked in wrath. He thumbed the coin still in his hand, wishing it would change face. He shouldn't have trusted them with her life. He was such a fool. And now he could only trust her with her own life, and that would have to be enough. If he went for her, he risked missing the moment they might drag her through the doors of the manor for the Dark Lord. He felt feverish, unclear of the right choice at hand.
His mother eyed him curiously then whispered, "she's not the one I'm concerned about breaking."
She stood, running a hand through his hair before she departed.
"At least your father will be home soon," she murmured. Draco squeezed her hand, terrified of what he might make of his son's decision. She sighed, then strolled back inside the manor.
Draco kept a hand rested against his heart as a foreign rage bludgeoned his end of the bond. He winced with a half smile. It tasted rich and felt lovely, as if Dahlia enjoyed it.
— — — — — — — — — —
When his charcoal haze cleared, Theo knew he was somewhere free from laws.
The desolation was as palpable as the chasm before him was daunting. The outside of the cavern glittered under the bright crescent moon as he stood mesmerized. Beneath the rough rock, molten-made crystals awaited polishing.
An echo of a roar erupted from the jagged crack in the black earth. It was as if the gods had screeched. He glanced upwards, fastened in place. An unusual reservation took hold as a steady stream of black smoke wafted through the great crease and a high-heated breath touched his cheek — dragons. A rumble of cheers and cries followed the enormous roar.
Theo scrunched his face as he turned to the side where his brother usually stood. He had left him home without a word, all the same had he left the journal with Dahlia's heavy accusations. His thoughts spun too wildly and his mind threatened to collapse in on itself. He needed no influences — just time to think and act in peace. He could acquire what was needed for the heist by himself. He was the best on his own, and deep down he knew this. He could never quite sort it out how he had been chosen captain for quidditch. Never thought himself a natural-born leader, but he did find himself good at beating the odds.
He tipped his head higher to the sky, but her stars in this place weren't as warm to him. He had never felt more alone as he stood staring into the mouth of the earth, but the hope to never feel such a desperate longing again pushed him forth into the devil's rift.
He descended into the cave with his head down. The smooth, crystalized stairs carried him downwards to the dragon pits. Shimmering spears of blue minerals that hung from the highest points of the cavern alighted the cave in the most mystifying hue. The voices echoed closer as shadows began to emerge.
Theo halted as he hid a gasp. The polished stairs abruptly ended and opened into a large stone valley within the cave. The walls were porous and illuminated by violet veins within crystal shards that glowed. Steep stairs and lined benches surrounded the opening of a deep pit, walled by molten-made crystal.
Theo watched as a scarlet dragon soared upwards, wings outspread. The air boomed as the dragon flapped and flared its nostrils. With a mighty exhale and a high-pitched screech, it blew crimson flames from its mouth, heating the ceiling of crystal spears to an icy shade of blue. The flames licked down the sides of the protective wards surrounding the pit, as a sea of misfits cheered — goblins, elves, wizards and all else; no one was dignified here.
Theo turned, and began his way down the winding path that encircled the valley of the cave. Some witches giggled and murmured in dark tunnels as he passed, while elves chugged beer and veelas danced in others. He heard squeals and roars from blackened caves where surely more dragons were kept. He stopped short as the wind blew the hair on his neck. It stood, sensing trouble. The touch of a fingertip trailed across the back of his shoulder.
"Tell me," a woman crooned behind his ear. "What is it like to touch Fate?"
Theo turned quickly on his heel, crushing the woman's finger she had dared to lay on him. He was met by a slender woman with tanned skin and golden eyes. He glared down at her with irritation. "You shouldn't touch strangers, love. Has no one taught you manners? keep your hands to yourself."
He released her fingers roughly, but the woman stepped forward, the gold in her auburn hair shining in the light of the dragon's new breath of fire. The crystals glowed in a heated kaleidoscope, allowing Theo to see briefly past her glamour to reveal a deteriorating hag hidden beneath her youthful facade.
Theo knitted his brows together. "Are you sure you're a seer?"
The woman nodded. "Don't you want to understand what they have planned for you?" The woman smiled, revealing sparkling, or decaying teeth, depending on the angle.
What have I done , Theo thought. The last thing he needed was to be cursed by someone's nearly blind, prophetic grandmother who bumbled around in caves.
Theo grinned politely with a shrug. "Not in the market. I already have the latest model."
He paused before turning, and lifted a finger. The woman stared intently at his starlit ring as it sung to the crystals, finding sanctuary and strength. "Actually, do you know where I could find a dragon for sale in here?" Theo asked, suddenly pleasant.
The old seer lifted her gaze from the ring to his whisky eyes. He narrowed them, going for a sultry glare and tempting smirk. He was sure the ancient bat hadn't been bedded since the dinosaurs. He revealed a dimple, going in for the kill.
The seer was unresponsive to his charms as she raised a brow, questioning what he might have to offer. Theo groaned, then pulled out a few galleons from the inside of his leather jacket pocket. The seer finally nodded after a moment of contemplation. He knew she was calculating if he could be trusted. He couldn't — Theo quickly tucked his hands into his pockets, removing the star-filled bone ring for safekeeping.
He followed the crone down the circling path as she moved past him wordlessly, deeper into the pit. She turned to him. "Where did you acquire that band, my son?"
"From a lovely girl with starbright hair," Theo answered sarcastically, as if it wasn't the truth.
She swung her arms too casually. "Do you know its purpose?"
"Absolutely." Theo smiled.
He didn't have much of a clue. He was sure it was ornamental, protective at most as it heightened his guttural instincts, supposedly.
The woman chuckled gruffly with an ill-kissed cough. "You're a fool to bring the essence of her life — her youth — here. If someone were to steal that ring, perhaps break it, they could take the rest of her mortal years as their own."
"Oh, I know," Theo lied, gut twisting. He was beginning to wonder how in merlin's pants Dahlia was sorted into Ravenclaw as her impulsivity struck again. He steeled himself, catching her drift. "I don't think anyone would steal from me though, love."
The seer raised a greying brow as the crystals glowed once more.
There was nothing he wouldn't do to achieve his goals — to keep Dahlia. Theo leaned down to her ear with a nasty grin, choosing to speak loudly, and betting her to try and take it from him. "I am an absolute fucking lunatic. Deeply unbalanced, but I pay well and I respect my elders, so don't you worry." He patted her frail shoulder beneath her flawless golden-brown skin.
The seer's eyes sparked.
"So how do you know so much about my ring? Steal youth often?" He chided.
"I trade foretellings for years, even hours, of life." She raised the same finger that had run along his back. "But don't worry, I wouldn't dare steal from her, Teddy. Not sure they would even allow it."
Theo grinded his teeth, deeply unsettled she not only knew his name, but the nickname his mother had given him. The woman continued with an obvious smirk, pleased she had gotten under his skin. "Truthfully have never seen such an artifact. That's an older ritual, from when the speaking water had voice, before the gods fell."
Theo snorted, grateful Dahlia never spoke in such riddles, or was at least aware of how ridiculous they sounded.
"Isn't that where you intend to go?" The woman asked coyly. "The bath of voices? As she did?" The seer turned into a candlelit cavern with a sway of hip, urging him to follow down the dark tunnel.
Theo thought better of it to respond, troubled by how much the old hag had uncovered with a simple touch. He had intended to return to the place Dahlia had cursed herself, and carve something sacred, and equally deadly, from the same rock to take his chances with The Fates.
"Pointless," the woman sighed. "The water is silent, has been for generations. It screeched one final time as your lovely girl ate the heart of it, but as it should be they promised." She shrugged as if they were both victims to a cruel god.
The tunnel cleared into a large space where goblins had carved a bar from the earth. People and creatures of all sorts lingered quietly in corners, sitting around stone-carved tables.
"I'm guessing you have a suggestion?" Theo sneered, following the seer.
"No, I will not help you." She glanced up pensively to the crystalized ceiling. Tiny dragons hissed fire upon it, scorching the hard substance to shimmering drips that peppered the floor in a swirling, cooled pattern. "Even if you offered that ring, I would not help you. I should kill you now, but it is not my place."
Theo noted swirling glyphs in white ink banded the woman's arm beneath the neon light as crystals dripped. "Have you amplified your Sight, as well?"
She grinned. "With dragon bone, but we are not the same."
"What do you mean?"
She glanced up to the melting ceiling. "Well, perhaps even those of crystal can be shattered or melted, reforged, with the opposite and same matter."
Theo fell into silence, making sense of her riddles. He burned her words into his mind.
The woman nodded to a small table in a crimson-lit corner. Theo quickly slipped the woman her promised galleons. Theo noted garnets hung overhead the circular tabletop as they approached the four wizards. They were pale like the moon, as if they rarely saw the sun. Theo wondered if they weren't wizards, but vampires. Their irises were bloodred, but it could have been a trick of the light. They grinned at the deceptive young woman, appreciating her nearly translucent dress.
"This boy wants a dragon," she purred with a flirtatious edge. Theo would have blushed had he not reminded himself of the decayed elderly woman that lurked beneath her sumptuous skin. He couldn't help but remember how adamant Alex had been in his insistence that Dahlia wasn't even human. He pushed the thought from his mind.
The men eyed him with a curious glare. "And who are you?" The only man who wasn't covered in dragon soot asked him. His white hair was nearly blinding and waved to his shoulders.
Theo swallowed all fear — and sense. Things typically worked out when he didn't bother to listen too closely to his thoughts.
"May I?" Theo asked lightly with a charming smile. He pushed up his sleeves before pointing to the open seat around their table. The men's eyes were quickly drawn to the coal-black serpent coiling around a skull on his arm.
Theo took their silence as acceptance and plopped down. Theo nodded to the seer with hopeful eyes, promising more coin. She huffed, then luckily took a seat in the lap of the gentlemen with long raven-colored hair. An elf quickly snapped its fingers and two mugs with blackened liquid appeared. It frothed like beer, but Theo wasn't taking that chance.
"We want nothing to do with He Who Shall Not Be Named," the white-haired man claimed.
Theo couldn't shake out their allegiances so he thought it best to agree. "Neither do I, honestly. I didn't come to make a mess, my new friends." He felt as if he was a broom salesman, but selling his own survival.
"I still won't you sell you a dragon, death eater." The man shook his head and looked to the two men to his right to confirm his stance.
Theo spoke quickly, worried this would be the end of the conversation. "Honestly, even better. I have no long-term housing for a dragon anyway. What about loaning me a dragon, for a short time instead?" He grinned boyishly.
The raven-haired man shifted the seer upon his lap. "What do you want with a dragon, boy?" He grunted before brushing back the woman's golden-brown hair.
Theo hid his shock as the man sunk his teeth into the seer's shoulders. Well this is new , he thought, and completely uncharted territory. The seer gripped his leg — Theo could only hope it was his leg — beneath the table as she exhaled breathlessly in bliss. They were definitely vampires, he realized. And the vampires fell in line beneath the Dark Lord. Theo sat back against the stone wall, changing tactics.
Theo pushed the imagery of him running his own tongue along the roof of Dahlia's mouth after she gotten into a fight. Her honeyed blood, the biting and sucking of her skin as he pushed himself into her. The thought threatened to bring him to his knees, run back to her and crawl for a taste. Theo steadied himself.
"The Dark Lord requires a dragon, and I would hate to report back that he was denied one by those who swore their loyalty." Theo winked as the man continue to sip her blood.
Theo painfully ignored the writhing seer, who had luckily forgotten all about his ring as she was lost in the vampire's unique touch.
"But I do believe we will come to terms," Theo sighed, reaching for the dark mug, suddenly aware of how parched he had become. The woman's pleasant cries only reminded him how desperate he was to taste Dahlia again.
"And why would you believe that?" The blonde vampire chuckled. He grinned as Theo was only intrigued by the scene in front of him, not horrified.
The black liquid burned like fire down his throat, but Theo didn't hate it. He hated his own growing lust that had him questioning if he should even be here. He set the mug back down with a low thud. "Because I am very fucking rich," Theo answered with a low laugh and promising smile.
The blonde man slowly smiled before angling his head to the two other men, speaking in shared looks.
Theo stood, either waiting for instruction or ready to pull out his wand — most definitely to escape the moaning seer who reminded him all too well of just how long it had been for him without Dahlia's touch.
The two men stood, as well, and shuffled out of the polished booth. The seer and the dark-haired man stayed behind — thank gods. Theo was sure they wouldn't even notice their departure. The men nodded for him to follow as the white-haired man fell into step beside him.
They walked past the bar where goblins were serving rather delicious looking cocktails. He wondered why he had been left with thick, sludgy beer from the elves. Theo soon found himself in another dark tunnel behind the bar within the small cavern. Lit sconces illuminated the narrow tunnel.
"Have you ever tasted blood before, boy?" The man asked nonchalantly.
"An oracle's blood is quite spectacular. Can't blame the lad for the distraction," Theo replied with a shrug. The vampire grinned with a laugh, satisfied with his response.
They came to the end of the path at a broken ledge. Theo looked down into a pit that was as black as night. His stomach balled with nerves as he began to question the man's intentions. The vampire whistled in a string of highly pitched beats before leaning back against the cave wall casually. There was a pause of horror-fueled silence before a great beast rumbled.
Theo heard the dragon before he saw it. The vibrations of it soaring upwards in the disrupted draft. He felt the power of the wind before he witnessed the beat of its wings. It emerged from the black pit as if soared to escape the devil himself from the rift. It's scales were the color of smooth midnight and its leathery wings resembled those of a bat. It was the largest creature he had ever seen. The dragon extended its talons and clawed itself into the crystalline earth across the pit from them. Through the tendrils of smoke that left its nostrils, Theo spotted a pair of brilliant purple eyes. It's tale whipped back and forth; an iron arrow-headed tip gleaming beneath the glowing crystal spears.
"A Hebridean Black?' Theo asked in amazement. He couldn't hide the awe in his voice.
"Indeed," the man answered proudly. "She doesn't get on with the others. Quite the headache in the pits. Still bites larger dragons even after we've taken some teeth. Causes disorder in the ranks," the man answered cooly, disappointed.
Theo didn't take his eyes off the dragon. She climbed the ceiling towards them as if she couldn't be seen, and was properly hidden behind the crystal spears that lined the cave.
The vampire grinned. "How much will you give for her?" He asked, crossing his arms.
"Whatever you wish." Theo mumbled. He smiled as the beast extended its wings and rocketed down from the ceiling, emerging in an effort to scare them. She didn't realize she was too large for such games. Little would hide her. The beast flapped its wing and the wind told him to follow his heart. The dragon tucked itself tightly and dived headfirst in a show of stealth. It disappeared into the pit once more.
Theo reached into the side pocket of his jacket and pulled out an enchanted sack of galleons. He was positive he could get the job done with her by his side. Dahlia would be in his arms in no time. "How much to keep her? Instead of loan her?" Theo countered.
"All of it," the vampire answered.
Theo threw the pouch of galleons to him without hesitation. A dragon so magnificent didn't belong in a cave. It loved to fly, loved the skies — like him.
"You're a fool," the man chuckled, catching it with ease. "You'll never make it out of here with her in one piece." He shook his head, thinking he had robbed the death eater clean.
Theo grinned to himself as the men disappeared back into the tunnel, threefold richer.
He wasn't a fool. He hadn't come here without proper preparations. Theo took out his wand and took a steadying breath. Difficult spells required the happiest memories, so he thought of her, perched in the golden sunlight whispering that she would move worlds for him. He began citing an ancient spell he had found within a few stolen textbooks. It was a bonding spell that wizards once used to tame wilder familiars. He only hoped it worked with a dragon. He thought of him and Draco as young children, running from his mother as she chased them through the garden with a timeless laugh. A bead of sweat formed along his hairline as a thin silver wisp began to emerge from the tip of his wand.
The dragon roared, steam emerged, as it sensed a capturing tug on its heart. Its glowing gaze appeared from the pit, glaring up at Theo who was persistent in the incantation. Theo thought of the night dreamdust had made them honest — love thoroughly. He knew then he would always have her heart, nevertheless, and he would accept nothing short of their destiny together.
The silver thread elongated, became tangible.
The steam of the dragon's breath rose up, consuming Theo in its haze. Theo prayed this worked in time as he realized the dragon was climbing swiftly up the wall of the pit towards him. It shook the ledge beneath him.
Oh double fuck , he thought.
Still, Theo didn't break the incantation as she neared.
The golden light, his mother's haunting laughter, the promise of a happy ending.
He trembled with the spell, muscles coiling.
The black-scaled dragon planted its claws into the cliff's edge where Theo stood. It's neck snaked high; its purple eyes malicious — but Theo knew what it was like to be black as night, outcasted. An ocean of loneliness hid beneath the malice. He understood the soul of the beast as their hearts fell into the same beat.
He raised both hands as the dragon threatened to burn him to death. All it would take was only a small breath from the beast. The black scales of her neck glowed, fire building. He closed his eyes and Dahlia's laugh echoed through his mind. The roar of the crowd as he scored the final quidditch goal for his team. With a whip of his wand, the silver chain lassoed around the dragon's neck, and when it connected — latched to itself — it dissipated into the binding ether, tying their souls.
The dragon stilled as its glowing eyes flickered. Theo took heavy breaths. The spell had weighed greatly on him and had tested the extent of his magic. He wasn't sure it had even worked, until the dragon lowered its snout. He couldn't believe it as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. The beast laid its head upon the stone and pushed its nose to Theo's chest, grateful for his sacrifice — thankful to be claimed by him.
Theo stiffened in hesitation. His instincts reared, reminding him the dragon was still dangerous. He slowly lifted a hand and carefully brought it to the dragon's nose. He looked to her eyes for permission. The dragon exhaled, and Theo gently stroked its snout. A smile broke across his lips and his heart lifted. He felt as if he could do anything. He was invincible, and capable of being loved by even the largest of beasts. He patted her nose with an instant vow of love — he could never help how fast he fell.
"Now let's get the fuck out of here," Theo whispered. He nodded towards the crystal-lined ceiling of the cavern with a scheming grin.
The dragon blinked for a long moment before she ripped her claws from the stone ledge and soared upwards. It inhaled. The breathy rumble was the sound of impending death to most men. Then, it blew a brilliant rush of orange-white flames. The crystals heated and glowed. The dragon banked the cavern before swinging its iron tail towards the ceiling, crushing the molten crystals.
Theo covered his head and took shelter in the dark tunnel as the cavern shook and the crystals rained down. The dragon blasted its fire and repeated its battering, freeing herself from her black prison, and clawing her way to the night.
And as the moonlight emerged and furious footsteps echoed down the tunnel, Theo disappeared in a snap, guiding his new companion home with a pull against her matching black heart.