The room was still trembling under the pale light of morning. Elanor sat quietly, her chains resting against her wrists as she struggled to steady her breathing. With every breath, the silence echoing between the stone walls only deepened her fear and unease.
Suddenly, warmth bloomed around the ring on her finger. A faint beam of light appeared, and Sergie manifested—half real, half illusion. The seriousness in his eyes made Elanor's heart quicken.
Sergie:"Elanor… stay calm. Draven is coming. Every movement you make will matter—how you draw his attention, how you survive, how you protect yourself. Control your reactions. Do not look away, but do not show fear either."
Elanor nodded slightly. The fear in her chest shifted into something sharper—determination.
The heavy creak of the door seized her attention at once. Footsteps echoed from the stone corridor, each step making Draven's presence feel heavier in the air. Sergie retreated silently, whispering one last warning.
Sergie:"Keep your eyes on him. Do not lose yourself. Do not fall into his game."
Then he vanished, leaving only a faint shimmer of light drifting through the room.
Draven entered in human form, yet his power filled every corner of the chamber. His sapphire-blue eyes burned like a curse as they fixed on Elanor. Even the chains on her wrists seemed to grow colder under his gaze.
Elanor held her breath, standing still, forcing herself not to look away.
Draven approached slowly. His finger brushed her shoulder—heavy, deliberate, certain. The touch stole her breath. Her heart raced, but she fought to keep any reaction from showing on her face.
Draven:"You… managed to capture my attention with your dance. But tell me—are you truly just a slave? Or something more?"
Elanor remained silent, her gaze lowering briefly as she focused on keeping control of her body.
Draven:"Every night… you will dance for me. Not only with your movements, but with your soul as well. Can you do that, beautiful crimson one?"
Elanor's heart skipped a beat. A command—a duty. Yet as she looked into his eyes, she felt not only fear, but curiosity as well.
Elanor (inner thought):This is a task… so why is my heart racing? Why does my breath feel shallow? Stay neutral… just a task…
Draven gestured toward the far end of the chamber. There stood a rocky platform—an area meant for transformation into dragon form. He studied Elanor closely, measuring her with every breath she took.
Draven:"Here… I will transform. And you will witness it. Know this—my eyes are measuring your soul."
Elanor froze. Her gaze shifted from the stone platform back to Draven. The room fell into silence; even the chains made a faint sound.
Draven stepped back and took a deep breath. His body began to change. His muscles expanded, shoulders widening; his eyes ignited like fire. Scales spread across his skin, massive wings unfurled from his back. As he shifted into his dragon form, the temperature and light of the room transformed with him, a fiery aura flooding the space.
Elanor did not look away. His presence—his power—shook her. Fear and awe tangled tightly in her chest. The weight of her chains felt heavier beneath the shadow of the dragon king.
Draven stood at the center of the chamber, lifting his head as his wings stretched wide. The rush of wind echoed through the room, rattling the chains softly. Elanor held her breath, fully aware of how violently her heart was pounding, yet still maintaining her composure.
A moment of silence… then Draven beat his wings and rose, leaving the chamber with a powerful exhale. His massive dragon form ascended into the sky as he departed.
Elanor steadied her breathing. Her heart was still racing, now caught between fear and admiration. The chains remained on her wrists, but within her, a quiet resolve began to grow.
The ring warmed again. Sergie's voice echoed softly.
Sergie:"Well done, Elanor. Today, you only observed him… but now your field of play begins. Choose every step carefully. Study him—but never lose your light."
Elanor nodded silently. Alone once more, she felt the weight of her chains, yet also a strange new energy. Draven's dragon form had vanished into the distance, and the stone platform waited in silence.
Elanor (inner thought):To dance every night… before his eyes. This is only the beginning. I am chained, but my soul is free… and I will show him that.
She remained seated in the quiet of the morning. The chains no longer felt like mere burdens, but like reminders etched into her skin. As she closed her eyes to take a deep breath, the door opened again.
Two attendants entered, dressed in long, slender garments. Their faces were lowered in submission. On a tray they carried steaming food: slices of dark red meat glistening on silver plates, exotic fruits shining richly, and small bowls of dark liquid.
They avoided her gaze, performing their task in silence. One placed the tray on the table while the other briefly checked the chains. Then both bowed and withdrew. The door closed, leaving Elanor alone again.
She exhaled slowly.
Such lavish food… and yet I am still a prisoner.
Time passed heavily. Flames flickered along the stone walls, shadows dancing. As evening approached, the door opened once more.
This time, three attendants entered, carrying fabrics, brushes, and small bottles. Their expressions were blank, their movements precise. They carefully removed Elanor's chains and began to prepare her.
One brushed her hair, letting her crimson waves fall freely, glowing under the firelight. Another dressed her in a jet-black gown—elegant yet dangerously alluring, slit high on both sides. The back was completely bare, the neckline deep and sharply cut. The fabric clung to her skin like a second layer.
The last attendant applied a delicate perfume, filling the room with a mysterious floral scent. When they finished, they bowed and left in silence.
As the door closed, loneliness settled once more. The ring glowed softly, and Sergie's voice returned.
Sergie:"Elanor… this is not just a dress. Here, your role is that of a fairy—the last one hidden in a land ruled by dragons on the brink of humanity's end. You possess light and talent. Do not hide them… but do not reveal them fully either. Draven is watching you—and testing you."
Elanor whispered in disbelief.
Elanor:"A fairy… me? With these chains… how could I possibly—"
Sergie's eyes were firm.
Sergie:"The chains belong only to your body. Your soul is still free. Close your eyes. Imagine. Picture what you truly wish to wear. Feel it on your skin. Despite the rules of this dark realm, your light will shine through your choices."
Elanor closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She imagined the black gown—the way her hair fell over her shoulders, the movement of the slits as she walked, the bare skin of her back. She even imagined the scent.
And then—it was real.
Despite the cold of the chains, she felt powerful. When she looked into the mirror, she saw not a slave, but a woman creating her own light in the heart of darkness.
Sergie whispered:
Sergie:"This is it. You do not need to become someone else to move Draven. Be yourself. But be careful—attraction is easy to notice. What sets you apart is balance."
Elanor nodded slowly, eyes locked on her reflection. Fear and curiosity churned within her, but above all—resolve.
As the chains shimmered like dark ornaments against her skin, heavy footsteps echoed beyond the door.
Sergie's voice dropped to an urgent whisper.
Sergie:"Time is up. Be ready, Elanor. Tonight, your dance will not be only steps… you will have to bare your soul."
The lock turned.
The room fell silent.
Elanor drew a deep breath, her heart pounding hard in her chest.
Draven was about to enter.