Elanor flinched slightly, but she forced herself to stand tall.
At that moment, Thor stepped forward.
Every eye in the hall turned toward him. He was in human form—tall, powerful, his muscular body gleaming beneath the hall's light. One of his hands reached toward Elanor, stopping just short of touching her.
Before his fingers could make contact, a deep, commanding voice echoed through the hall.
"No, Thor… she is mine."
Thor froze. Slowly, he withdrew his hand. His gaze lingered on Elanor, reluctant to pull away—but defying his king was impossible.
Elanor stood frozen in place. The being called Thor unsettled her deeply. She lifted her eyes once more to Draven, meeting his gaze—trembling, yet brave.
My heart is pounding… she thought.But somehow… I feel a little safer. He's a king. How cruel could he really be?
With the chains lightly striking her wrists, Elanor walked forward across the massive stone floor of the hall. Flames high above reflected off dragon scales, bathing the chamber in a silvery glow. Every step echoed within her. Every step felt like another trial.
The dragon officials examined the slaves with cold, merciless eyes. At the back of the hall, seated upon his throne, Draven watched in silence. Even in human form, his presence dominated the space. His icy blue eyes caught every mistake—those deemed unworthy were immediately dismissed.
One by one, the slaves displayed their abilities.
Some scrubbed the stone floors until they shone.Others were assigned to soothe the dragons through massage and care.
Elanor, however… carried something different.
Her dance had the power to alter the atmosphere of the entire hall. Her crimson hair shimmered in the firelight, and despite the chains, her movements radiated a breathtaking sense of freedom.
As she watched the others perform, Elanor whispered to herself:
No panic… I need to adapt first. I'm here for my brother. And I won't just survive this place—I'll leave my mark. When this is over, I will hold him again.
The assignments continued, and while the others carried out their tasks, a silent observer remained in the shadows.
Thor.
His gaze never left Elanor. It made her heart race—yet strangely, it also gave her a sense of safety.
When her turn came, Elanor stepped into the center of the hall. The chains restricted her wrists, but her posture remained proud. Dragon leaders and officials took notice of her grace and the brilliance of her crimson hair.
When asked about her skill, she answered simply:
"I can dance."
A few dragons watched with undisguised hunger. Her dance—and the light she carried—had already begun to reshape the air around them.
From his throne, Draven's eyes locked onto her.
This… is extraordinary, he thought.Human form… yet something is different. Crimson hair. Eyes as blue as ice. Who granted a slave the right to be this captivating? She feels as though she doesn't belong to this world at all.
Despite the chains, Elanor began to dance—controlled, elegant, deliberate. Every turn, every step drew the dragons' attention, filling the hall with a quiet, intoxicating energy. The other slaves watched in stunned silence.
The atmosphere shifted completely.
Her dance was more than a task. It was a protest. A declaration of freedom.
No matter how heavy the chains, Elanor's spirit moved freely, flowing through every corner of the hall with silent defiance.
When her final turn ended and her glowing steps came to rest, the hall felt transformed. Dragons exchanged wordless glances. Thor continued to watch from the shadows. The chains struck softly against her wrists, reminding her—this moment of freedom was temporary.
Draven rose slowly from his throne.
His icy blue eyes never left her.
He lifted a hand, signaling the guards.
"Take her to my chambers."