IRYNA
I fell. But I never hit water. The darkness swallowed me whole. It wasn't liquid. It was smoke — thick, endless, suffocating. It wrapped around my body as I dropped through it, stealing sound, stealing breath, stealing thought.
Then— Impact. I hit solid ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. A strangled groan escaped me as pain burst through my shoulder and back. For a few seconds, I could only lie there, stunned.
Cold.
The ground beneath me was stone. I forced myself to roll onto my side and push up weakly. Where was I? The air here was different — heavier, ancient. The darkness wasn't total. A faint red glow pulsed somewhere in the distance, just enough to outline jagged rocks and tunnel-like passages stretching into shadow. It felt underground. No sky. No wind.
Just stone and silence.
"Ciara." My voice cracked. "Hello?"
No answer. I tried to stand, but a sudden shift in the air made me freeze. Something moved. Not footsteps. Not exactly. It felt like a shadow gliding along the walls. My pulse quickened. Then I saw them. Two red lights flickered open in the distance. Eyes. They didn't blink. They simply watched.
My breath left me.
I stumbled backward, palms scraping against rough stone. "W-who's there?" My voice sounded small. Fragile. "Ciara? Anyone?"
The eyes moved closer. Now I could hear it. A low, heavy rumble. Like something massive shifting its weight. The ground vibrated faintly. My heel caught against uneven stone and I fell back, scrambling desperately, trying to create distance. The eyes rose higher. Higher than a human. Higher than any creature should. And then it stepped forward fully into the dim red glow. My heart stopped.
A dragon.
Massive. Black. Ancient beyond comprehension. Its scales looked like carved obsidian. Smoke curled from between them as though its body contained a living storm. Two enormous wings rested folded against its back, and its horns curved like dark crescents toward the ceiling of the cavern.
It was the same dragon. The one from my dreams. But this time— It did not feel calm. It did not feel gentle. It felt powerful. Awake. Its red eyes burned into me. I couldn't move. Fear locked every muscle in my body. In my dream, I had touched it. In my dream, I wasn't afraid. But this was not a dream. This was real. The dragon lowered its massive head slightly, studying me. Heat radiated from its breath. The air trembled around it.
"Please…" I whispered without knowing why.
It stepped closer. The cavern seemed too small to contain it. I wasn't even sure if this was actually a cavern. It was confusing. My back hit the cold stone wall behind me. Nowhere left to go. Its eyes narrowed.
And then—
Darkness gathered in its mouth. Not fire. Something deeper. A swirling mass of shadow condensed between its jaws, pulsing like a living thing.
"No—"
The dragon released it. A beam of concentrated dark energy shot forward and struck my chest. It felt like being pierced and split open at the same time. I screamed. The force lifted me slightly off the ground before slamming me back down. My body locked in place as the darkness poured into me — not burning, not freezing— Consuming. My heart convulsed violently.
It felt like something inside me was being torn apart — or awakened. Something ancient stirred within my chest, responding to the energy flooding into it. The pain was unbearable. Like my ribs were cracking from the inside. Like my blood had turned into lightning. I clawed at my chest, gasping, sobbing, pleading.
"Stop—please—make it stop—"
But the dragon did not move. Its gaze never left mine. The darkness continued pouring into me, merging with something already there. Something that recognized it. My scream broke into silence as my strength gave out. My vision blurred. And in the final second before everything faded—
I heard a voice.
Not from outside. From within. Deep. But not familiar.
"It's good to be back."
And then—
Blackness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Consciousness returned slowly. It felt like I was being dragged out of a deep ocean. My eyelids were heavy, my head pounding faintly. When I finally forced my eyes open, the cavern was gone. I was no longer on cold stone. I was lying on a bed.
A strange one.
It was built from what looked like carved black rock, polished smooth but still ancient. Dark fabric covered it, heavy and unfamiliar. I slowly pushed myself up, my body protesting with every movement. The room around me was enormous. Circular.
The walls were made of dark stone, etched with symbols that faintly glowed as if something inside them was still alive. Candles were lit all around the room, their flames flickering softly, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. There were no modern decorations. No electronics. No windows that showed the outside world. It looked like something out of those historical fantasy houses I used to scroll past online — except this wasn't a picture. This was real. The air felt strange. Heavy. Ancient. Like it carried memories older than the world I knew.
My hand immediately flew to my chest. My heart was beating. Strong. Too strong.
"Ciara?" I called weakly.
My voice echoed slightly. No answer. Where was she? What happened after I passed out? How did I get here? Panic began rising again. I forced my legs over the side of the bed and carefully tried to stand. The moment my feet touched the cold stone floor, my knees buckled.
I collapsed.
A sharp pain shot through my side and I groaned, pressing my palm against the ground to steady myself. I was weak. Too weak. It felt like all my energy had been drained and replaced with something unfamiliar. My limbs felt light and heavy at the same time.
I tried again. Failed.
As I attempted to push myself up once more, a voice cut through the room.
"Stop trying to stand. It is pointless."
My body froze. That voice. Deep. Authoritative. The same voice I heard before everything went black. My breathing slowed as I slowly lifted my head. He stood a few steps away from me.
Watching.
His eyes were ocean blue. Not soft blue. Not warm. They were sharp. Deep. Endless. A dark cloak rested over his shoulders, but strands of red hair fell freely around his face. Not the kind of red humans have. Not light red or brownish red.
This was crimson. Like blood under moonlight. I had seen handsome men before. At school. On television. On social media.
But this man— He was different. Beautiful in a way that was almost unnatural. Almost dangerous. His presence alone made the air feel tighter. Everything about him terrified me.
And yet—
There was something pulling me toward him. Something in my chest reacting again. Like it recognized him.
"Who are you?" I finally managed to ask.
He frowned slightly. Without answering, he walked past me and sat down on a chair carved from the same dark stone near the wall. He crossed one leg over the other, watching me in silence. The silence stretched uncomfortably. Then he clenched his hand into a fist and subtly pointed it toward me. My heart jumped. I immediately squeezed my eyes shut.
The dragon. The darkness. The pain.
I expected something to hit me. To crush me. To hurt me again. But nothing happened. After a few seconds, I slowly opened my eyes. He exhaled sharply, almost annoyed. Then he stood up. This time, he walked toward me with quicker steps. Panic surged through me. I tried to move backward, but he reached me before I could escape.
His hand shot out—not to strike, not to choke— But to seize my chin. His fingers were warm. Firm. Unyielding. He lifted my face upward, forcing my gaze to meet his. The movement was controlled, almost effortless, yet there was undeniable strength behind it. My breath caught in my throat as he pulled me closer, reducing the space between us to nothing.
I could feel the heat of his skin.
The faint scent of something dark and unfamiliar clinging to him. His ocean-blue eyes burned into mine at such close distance that it felt impossible to look away.
His eyes burned into mine.
"Why do you still have my soul anchor?" he demanded.
His voice was low, controlled — but there was something beneath it. Frustration.
"I have taken my physical form," he continued, his jaw tightening. "Yet I remain incomplete."
He pulled me nearer—close enough that I felt the slow rise and fall of his chest.
"I don't— I don't know what you're talking about." I hated the way my voice trembled.
"Why did your body refuse me?" he asked.
There was genuine confusion in his voice now. Not rage. Confusion. And something else. Something unsettled. His grip eased—but he didn't let go. He studied me like I was the only mystery left in creation.
I stared back at him in fear.
"What… are you?" I whispered.
For a brief moment, something shifted in his expression. Then he released me completely.
He stepped back slowly. The candles flickered violently.
"The realms call me Dark."
His gaze locked on mine again—deeper now, hungrier.
"And you, Iryna…"
His voice lowered.
"…are the reason I cannot reclaim what is mine."