The obsidian terrace still shimmered with heat when Kaelith turned away from her.
Hazel stood frozen, breath coming in short gasps as the black-haired man, the dragon, lifted a hand without looking back.
"Take her to the lower chamber," he said, voice calm but thunderous. "Ensure she's unharmed. She will be kept… secure until the Dragon Moon."
Two armored guards stepped from the shadows. They were men, but not quite. Their eyes gleamed like embers, and faint scales shimmered along their skin. They moved with eerie grace, silent and obedient.
Hazel backed away, panic rising. "Wait—what are you talking about? What is the Dragon Moon? I want to go home!"
Kaelith didn't answer. He was already walking toward the great golden doors at the end of the terrace, his dark robes flowing behind him like smoke.
"Please!" Hazel screamed. "Let me go!"
But the guards reached her first.
She fought, screamed, kicked, sobbed but they did not hurt her. Their hands were like iron, firm but careful. They led her down long black hallways lit by floating orbs of flame, the silence only broken by her ragged cries.
She didn't know where they were taking her. She didn't even know where she was.
Eventually, they stopped at a tall door carved from molten steel. One guard stepped forward and turned a glowing lock with his palm. The door opened with a hiss.
It was a cell.
But unlike the dungeons Hazel had read about in stories, this one was… clean. Polished. Almost regal. White stone floors, soft bedding, food and water on a carved table. A tall window let in moonlight, though the view showed nothing but a vast sea of clouds and the endless dark peaks.
It was a cage of luxury.
She collapsed the moment the door sealed behind her.
And she cried.
Above her, in the heart of the palace, Kaelith stood alone in his chambers.
The room shimmered with gold and obsidian, walls etched with ancient runes, flames floating lazily in glass globes above a sunken bath of liquid starlight. Thick drapes of velvet poured from the ceiling. Silk sheets lay untouched on his bed.
But Kaelith did not sleep.
He stood before a massive window that overlooked his hidden kingdom—his domain carved into the high places of the world, beyond mortal reach. Waterfalls cascaded from cliffs that scraped the sky. Dragons flew in the distance, their shadows stretching across the moonlit clouds.
It was beautiful.
And it was his.
He belonged to no one. Not even fate.
His hands folded behind his back, his golden eyes flickering with thought. He had taken the human girl. He hadn't meant to, not originally. But something had shifted in the sky the moment he saw her.
Something ancient.
He didn't need her for her beauty, nor her cries. He had taken her for one reason only:
The Dragon Moon.
It was approaching, an ancient celestial cycle where power and legacy converged. Every ruler of the dragon realm was required to produce an heir during that time or forfeit their claim to the throne.
And Kaelith refused to fall.
He did not care for humans. He never had.
But she… she had stirred something deep and primal within him, something older than language.
Still, it didn't matter. Emotion was weakness.
She would serve her purpose. Bear his heir. And then…
Then she would be forgotten.
A knock echoed against the gilded chamber doors.
Kaelith turned slowly. His voice was quiet, but it cut through the air.
"Enter."
The doors opened to reveal two familiar figures, Theron, the silver-scaled general, and Varik, the brown-scaled sentinel. His most trusted warriors. His executioners when needed.
They bowed their heads.
"My king," Theron said. "You brought a human here. Is that true?"
Kaelith's eyes narrowed. "You dare question me?"
Varik stepped forward quickly, his voice more cautious. "We only ask because it hasn't happened before. Not even during the last Dragon Moon. You never brought one into the palace."
Kaelith's expression darkened.
"You were not asked to understand my decisions. You were asked to obey them."
Theron opened his mouth to respond but caught the look in his king's eyes.
It was enough.
Silence stretched between them before Kaelith spoke again, his voice low and cold.
"She is of no significance. She will be useful when the moon rises, and that is all. Do not mistake my actions for sentiment."
The air crackled with power as he said it. A storm veiled behind flesh.
Theron bowed his head again. "Forgive us, my king."
Kaelith turned away.
"Leave."
The doors closed with a hiss, sealing him once more in golden silence.
Below, in the soft prison of stone, Hazel curled into herself.
She had stopped crying hours ago—there were no tears left. Her throat was raw. Her eyes swollen. But her heart… her heart had never hurt this way before.
Her mother.
She saw her in her mind, reaching out as Hazel was dragged away into the sky. Was she still alive? Was the village still burning? Was anyone left?
Hazel didn't know. And that was the worst part.
Her fingers clutched the soft blanket beneath her, as if it could ground her to something real. But this place was not real. It was too perfect. Too still.
It was a gilded nightmare.
She had seen monsters. Heard their screams. And yet the worst part was that the man, the king—Kaelith had looked at her as if she were nothing.
Not a person. Not a prisoner.
Just a vessel.
Hazel curled tighter into a ball, her body shaking.
She didn't know what a Dragon Moon was.
But she knew what it meant to be used.
And in that cold, quiet cell lit by silver moonlight, Hazel cried herself to sleep again.
This time, she did not dream.
Only darkness awaited her now.