Bound To The Dragon Who Dreamed Of Me
Outside, thunder rolled through the mountains—deep, rumbling, ancient.
Storms. Always storms lately.
“The old stories claimed they fed on dying magic,” the healer continued, swallowing hard. “Corruption. Fear. Division between races.”
Cold realization slid through Lyra like ice water.
“They want wolves and dragons fighting.”
“Yes,” Vaelrion said, voice sharp with certainty.
The dragon inside him paced violently beneath the bond—protect mate, destroy shadows, burn the world if necessary.
“But why me?” Lyra whispered.
The hatchling answered before anyone else could.
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