The narrow ledge was a razor's edge between the abyss and the stone. Veridia pressed her body flat against the cold, rough face of the cliff, the wind plucking at her ragged clothes like an impatient hand. Every tremor in her muscles was a fresh agony, a reminder of the hollowing void inside her. The Curse of the Sieve was a screaming hunger now, blurring the edges of her vision with faint, grey static.
Below, the sounds of the hunt echoed up the cliff face, sharp and clear in the thin air. The scrape of armored boots on stone. A shouted command, clipped and disciplined. They were not rushing. They were climbing, methodical and certain, a tide of righteous steel rising to drown her.
The air beside her shimmered, coalescing into the insufferably perfect form of her sister. Seraphine radiated a smug amusement, her illusory gown untouched by the grime and wind.
"Nowhere left to run, dear sister," she purred, her voice a silken mockery. "Unless you plan on growing wings? The ratings for your final, splattered moments will be legendary. I've already sold the slow-motion replay rights to a prominent soul-broker."
Veridia's gaze shifted from the dizzying drop—a fall that would shatter bone and end the broadcast in a single, messy finale—to the dark, ominous opening of the cave just ahead. The Wyvern's lair. It was a potential death sentence, a gamble against a primal force. But the knights were a certainty. With a low snarl that was more beast than princess, she made her choice, crawling the final few feet into the waiting darkness.
***
The cavern was vast, a cathedral of bone and shadow. The air was thick with the musky, reptilian scent of the beast, a smell of ozone and old kills. Veridia moved slowly, her body a deliberate performance of submission. She was not a challenger. She was a supplicant, a meal offering itself to a god.
It watched her from the center of the lair. The Wyvern was a creature of scaled muscle and primal intelligence, its body a coiled serpent of dark, obsidian-like plates. It did not move, but its unblinking, reptilian eyes, the color of molten gold, tracked her every step.
She knelt on the stone floor, littered with the splintered bones of its prey, and bowed her head. The choice was made; now came the price. The great beast unfolded, its movements a silent, fluid display of immense power. It did not rush. It flowed toward her, a river of shadow and scale, until its massive head was inches from her own. The heat from its nostrils washed over her skin, carrying the metallic tang of its breath.
It pinned her with a single, massive claw, the weight pressing her into the cavern floor. The pressure was immense, but the placement was deliberate. It held her fast without piercing her skin. Four razor-sharp talons rested lightly against the flesh of her shoulder and throat, a constant, terrifying reminder that a single spasm, a single wrong move, would be her last.
This was not seduction. This was survival. A frantic prayer to a god of tooth and claw. The sounds of the knights, closer now, filtered into the cave—a distant shout, the ring of steel on rock. *Hurry,* the thought was a desperate scream in her mind. *Before they get here. I need it now.*
The Wyvern lowered its head, its forked tongue flicking out to taste the salt and fear on her skin. Its body coiled around her, the rough, dry texture of its scales an abrasive rasp against her exposed legs. She felt the hard, alien pressure of its arousal against her thigh, a thick, ridged length of scaled flesh. There was no pretense of pleasure in her, only a desperate, gnawing need. She arched her hips, a shameless, pleading gesture. *Give it to me.*
He answered. With a low rumble that vibrated through the stone beneath her, he pushed into her. The entry was a brutal, stretching invasion, her body forced to accommodate the sheer, inhuman size of him. A choked cry was torn from her lips, a sound of pain and shocking, absolute fullness. He moved with a slow, powerful rhythm, each thrust a deep, grinding friction that felt less like sex and more like a geological event. The sharp edges of his scales scraped her skin raw, and the constant, cold pressure of the talon at her throat kept her pinned between terror and the frantic, desperate hope of her purpose.
This was the spectacle. The ultimate degradation. The princess of the Vex, mounted by a monster in its charnel house of a lair, while her enemies closed in. The gaze of the Patrons was a physical weight, a million unseen eyes feasting on this moment. She hated them. She hated Seraphine. And she hated this beast. But most of all, she needed what it had.
As its rhythm quickened, she focused her will, her very soul, on the point of their joining. She was no longer a participant, but a parasite. She began to draw, pulling at the potent life force coiled within the creature. It was not the thin, desperate Essence of mortals. This was a torrent. It flooded into her, a raw, painful infusion of power that tasted of fire and ancient stone. It burned through her veins, scouring the weakness of the curse, filling the void with something primal and draconic. Her back arched, a true scream tearing from her throat as her own release met the searing wave of power. The Wyvern answered with a final, shuddering surge, its own guttural roar echoing in the vast, dark chamber.
***
The power was a humming, incandescent thing beneath her skin. Veridia stumbled to her feet, her body aching and raw, but the hollowness was gone. She was full, overflowing with an ancient, wild energy. The Wyvern, sated, lifted its great head, its golden eyes regarding her with a flicker of something other than hunger. A sliver of respect.
A shout from the cave mouth shattered the moment. "In there! I see her!"
The first armored figure appeared in the opening, shield raised, sword glinting in the dim light. Veridia didn't hesitate. Fueled by the new, burning power, she spun and ran, not deeper into the lair, but directly for the cliff edge at its entrance.
Seraphine's illusion reappeared, her perfect face a mask of delighted shock. "You're actually going to do it! Magnificent! This is the finale they paid for!"
Veridia reached the precipice. The knights were charging into the cave behind her. The abyss yawned before her. With a final, triumphant glare at her sister's gaping face, she leaped.
For a heart-stopping moment, she fell. The wind screamed past her ears. The rocks below rushed up to claim her. Then, the draconic Essence she had stolen answered her desperate, unspoken command. A searing pain erupted from her back as two magnificent, leathery wings, shimmering with faint, fiery energy, burst from her flesh. With a powerful, resonant *thump*, they caught the wind, arresting her fall and launching her into the open sky. She soared away from the cliff, a creature reborn of fire and defiance, leaving the stunned knights and a single, speechless illusion staring after her from the edge of the world.