Chapter 4: Between Flight and Fall

ANWEN'S POV

I woke with a shiver, pain lancing through my side like fire as darkness pressed in on all sides. 

For a moment, my mind betrayed me, dragging me back into the cramped, suffocating wagon compartment, the stench of fish and rotting wood clinging to my senses as sharply as ever.

Then something else broke through the haze—a faint, steady sound.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound of water.

It echoed softly around me, growing clearer with each passing second until it settled into my awareness, grounding me. A cold drop fell from above and slid down my cheek, and with that, memory returned all at once.

The cave.

Had the monsters given up searching for me? Had I lost them?

I sucked in a breath and tried to push myself upright—but a sharp stab through my ribs nearly dragged me back into unconsciousness.

“Careful.”

The voice was low, rough… and far too close.

“Judging by that fall,” it continued, almost thoughtful, “you’ve cracked a few ribs. Maybe worse.”

My heart lurched violently as I turned my head, inch by inch, toward the sound.

At first, I saw only a shape—a towering shadow cast against the cave wall, distorted by the faint, flickering light filtering in from outside. It loomed large, unnatural, the outline shifting as it moved. 

Then he stepped forward, and the shadow followed, stretching long and monstrous behind him.

Brammon.

His green eyes caught what little light there was, glowing faintly in the dimness as they fixed on me. Not searching. Not hunting.

He was watching.  

As if he had been standing there all along, waiting for the exact moment my eyes would open.

My breath faltered, and then I saw...horns. Massive and curved, like a bull’s, rising from his head and cutting a terrifying silhouette against the cave’s dim light.

“You’re…” My voice trembled, barely forming the words. “A minotaur.”

His expression didn’t change. If anything, there was a flicker of impatience beneath the stillness, like a predator tired of waiting for prey to understand its fate.

I scrambled backward, palms slipping against damp stone. “Don’t—don’t come closer,” I whispered, but he stepped forward anyway, slow and deliberate, his shadow swallowing the space between us.

“Get away from me,” I said, forcing myself to my feet despite the agony. I staggered toward the cave mouth, squinting at the pale light beyond the trees.

Behind me, his heavy, unhurried footsteps followed. He wasn't chasing me. He didn't need to.

I stumbled out into the forest, half-crouched, each breath catching painfully in my chest as the world tilted around me. I had to get away. I had to—

I stopped short.

Fenric stood ahead, as though he’d been waiting for me all along, leaning lazily against a tree. His silver eyes gleamed with amusement.

“Surprise.”

I shook my head, backing away. Only to feel Brammon’s presence close in behind me once more.

“No… no.” The words came out small. Fragile. Barely holding together.

Fenric didn’t move from the tree. “I could do this all day,” Fenric said, voice almost bored. “I don’t think I can say the same about you.”

They didn’t move to grab me. They simply watched me. 

Fenric tilted his head slightly, studying me. “I told you she’d make it at least this far. You owe me five gold.”

Brammon snorted. “Only because you let her slip past you.”

Fenric shrugged, entirely unbothered. “You know how much I love the chase.” 

His gaze lingered on me. “Besides… it’s been a while since we’ve had a feisty one.” A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Frail—but feisty.”

A chill ran through me. I was nothing more than amusement to them.

“Please,” I cried, clutching my side. “Just… just leave me alone.”

Fenric chuckled, but Brammon clicked his tongue.

“This is getting boring, Anwen,” Brammon said, his deep voice rolling over me. “And I would really prefer it if I didn’t miss lunch.”

I forced myself to move, stumbling past them toward the light. Neither of them stopped me.

The trees thinned—until the ground fell away into a cliff.

My freedom… and my death.

Behind me, I felt them watching. Waiting for my next move. 

Slowly, I turned to face them. “I won’t be what you want.” My voice trembled, but I forced the words out. “I won’t do it.”

My hands shook at my sides. "I won't help you make more monsters," I said, more urgently now. "I'd rather... I'd rather die." 

Fenric’s lips curved faintly before he sighed. “So adorable.”

Brammon, however, only stared. Then he stepped forward slightly. "Then jump."

I froze.

My gaze flickered to the drop below, my stomach twisting violently.

“Go on,” Brammon said, his voice edged with challenge. “Jump.”

I couldn’t move. Fear rooted me in place, my body trembling, betraying me.

A low, almost mocking huff left him. “I knew you didn’t have it in you.”

Something inside me snapped.

I closed my eyes—and stepped off.

Air roared past me as the ground vanished beneath my feet. The wind tore at my face, whipping my hair into chaos.

Behind me, Brammon cursed. “Damn it!”

Fenric laughed—the sound following me into the void. “Now you owe me ten gold.”

For a brief, fleeting moment, I felt something like freedom. Then a thunderous beat split the air.

Something massive descended from above, and talons closed around me, crushing the breath from my lungs. Pain exploded through my ribs as I was caught mid-fall, suspended in an iron grip.

I forced my eyes open to black scales stretching endlessly, to a monstrous head looming above me, eyes burning like dying embers.

A dragon.

It beat its mighty wings, lifting me higher into the air. Its jaws parted, heat spilling over me in suffocating waves as fire flickered deep in its throat.

I looked down—back to the cliff’s edge where I’d stood only moments before.

Brammon stood below, arms folded across his chest. Beside him, Fenric had the audacity to lift a hand in a casual wave.

Something clicked.

A Lycan. A Minotaur. And now a Dragon.

The Triarch Kings.

Second only to the High King, they were the most feared rulers in all the land. And somehow… I’d ended up in their grasp.

A broken breath rattled in my chest as a single, desperate thought surfaced. Please… not this. Not them.

If there was any mercy left in the world, let this be enough. Let the injuries claim me. Just let me die.

Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, soft and strangely welcoming, as though something divine had finally heard me. The dragon’s screech tore through the sky, but it was already fading—distant, hollow, like a sound underwater.

My body went limp in its grasp. My thoughts blurred, thinning into nothing. With one final, silent prayer—I hope I won’t wake up again—I let go.

And then I surrendered to the dark.