I stared down at Edward kneeling before me, the cold stone beneath his knees draped in the shadow of the ancient vault. His plea hung in the frozen air, heavy and intoxicating. A brand-new world. A world without the threat of the executioner's axe, without the shadow of the ruthless tyrant who had filled my waking nights with fear. For a fleeting second, the sheer weight of his promise pulled at the fraying edges of my sanity. It was an easy dream. It was a escape.
*Give me your core, and we can end Draven for good.*
My hand, slick with sweat against the leather grip of my sword, began to tremble violently. My core—the very spark of life and magical resonance anchored within my chest—was what bound me to this realm. To surrender it meant placing my life entirely into the hands of a dragon ghost who had already destroyed every woman he claimed to love.
"You... you want my core," I whispered, my voice sounding small and fragile against the towering black walls of the ancient keep.
