The dragon kept his gaze on us. His amber eyes were unblinking, like twin shooting stars suspended in the darkness of the cavern. I could only presume that we were still alive because he was more curious than hungry. But his reptilian features, the ridged brow and serrated jaw, were too alien for me to judge with any certainty. My nervous laugh bounced off the stone walls. It did not help matters in the slightest.

  Luciana shot me a look as if I’d finally snapped, her pale face a portrait of disbelief. My legs trembled as I struggled to stand, claws scraping awkwardly against the humid floor for balance. When I tried to help Luciana up, she winced and hissed between her clenched teeth. I realized, uncomfortably, I might have actually cracked her ribs during resuscitation, so I let go and left her in a semi-kneeling position.

  I turned to face the dragon, my spine straightening as I executed a formal bow, and said with all the dignity I could muster, “[Honor to see so strong a dragon.]”

  The dragon’s lips parted in what might have been a smile, revealing rows of teeth like shiny daggers. “Ohoho, you seem to have received a fine education, a rarity for someone your age. Your accent is awfully thick, though, but I recognize your attempt at courtesy.” His massive, scaled head swiveled toward Luciana as he whispered, “[Cure wounds.]”

  Emerald light, bright as sunlight, poured from his nostrils and enveloped Luciana’s chest, seemingly healing her on the spot. Dragons, it appears, could command wild mana to produce intricate spellwork without magic items. The air around him shimmered with mana, almost as if he himself was a magic item. Fascinating. Could it be they contained mana inside their own bodies?

  Color returned to Luciana’s anemic cheeks as she stumbled to her feet beside me, her movements still unsteady but purposeful. She swept into a bow so formal and low, her hair nearly brushed the cavern floor. “My apologies, we bring no gifts,” she said, her voice less shaky than before but still quivering faintly, “as we did not expect this encounter. I am forever in your debt, Master Dragon.”

  “Lack of gifts is understandable, you arrived at my cavern dead, child. Your companion saved you. I merely treated a minor wound so you could greet me properly,” his voice reverberated against the stalactites overhead. Tiny droplets of water rained down as he swiveled his massive, scaled head back to me. “I consider knowledge a worthy gift. This was an interesting display I observed, no magic involved, yet you brought her back to life. Your hands compressed her chest at a specific rhythm, and you forced air from your lungs to hers. You are capable of magic, so why resort to such crude measures?”

  I searched for an answer that hid my otherworldly origins without also reeking of lies. Dragons were reportedly able to sense any form of deception. "I’m still learning magic," I finally said, meeting his gaze despite my spine tingling with primal terror. “I plan to study healing spells next year, but even with that in mind, I believe our society should also develop knowledge that allows anyone to save lives, not just mages. This technique comes from medical science, not healing magic.”

  Dragon’s nostrils flared, releasing twin wisps of turquoise vapor that curled around his snout. “Curious, very curious, and you say you will be studying healing spells next year, so you will be joining the Academy’s magic course then?” he pressed.

  I nodded, my neck stiff with lingering fear. “Indeed, I shall,” I answered with my voice somehow surer than my trembling hands.

  “Excellent!” The dragon’s tail swept across the stones, scattering them in a rattling chorus. His eyes flashed. “Then you’ll be one of my students!”

  My mouth fell open, and I blurted, “Huuuh?”

  The dragon’s chuckle sounded like faraway thunder rolling through mountain passes. “Oh, yes, I forgot to mention it. I am one of the Academy’s tenured professors. Irleophiss is my name, be sure to put it on your admission form, so they will assign you to my class.”

  “I… I will, Professor Irleophiss,” I stammered from surprise, my voice faintly audible. “My name is Zar. This is Lady Luciana. We thank you for your hospitality.”

  The dragon examined us with the intensity of a jeweler appraising rare gems. “So, how did you end up here? Sometimes an occasional criminal wriggles into my cavern.” His claws scraped against stone with a sound like knives being sharpened. “I dispatch such miscreants immediately. But you are both too young and too well educated to be criminals lurking in the sewers.”

  “We were escaping assassins, Luciana here is…” I glanced at her, silently asking if I could reveal more about her identity. She noticed my hesitation, pushed herself upright, and took over the conversation, her chin lifting with the practiced poise of nobility.

  “I am afraid I am at fault. My name is Luciana de Chastel, Second Princess of the Kingdom of Veridia.” Her fingers smoothed the tattered edges of her once-fine dress. “What I can only assume are my family’s internal power struggles have caused us to escape into the sewers and disturb your peace.” She lowered her head. “For that, I sincerely apologize.”

  The dragon’s massive head tilted slightly. “A victim of circumstances, then. No need to feel guilty in that case.” His enormous pupils contracted as he studied her more closely. “It is a shame, you appear to lack mana sensitivity. I feel like you would’ve been a fine addition to my class. Well, I am sure they will be happy to have you at a knight course.”

  She raised her eyebrow in surprise, the delicate arch almost disappearing beneath a lock of damp hair. “A knight course?”

  “Well, of course,” the dragon rumbled. “Chastels are renowned warriors, even your females, are they not?” he prompted.

  Luciana tensed, eyes glazing over at his words. “They… are.”

  “Regardless,” his voice, though still thunderous, was gentler. “You both are soaked to the bone and shivering. I suggest you move back above ground.” His massive head swiveled toward a section of wall, unremarkable gray stone veined with mineral deposits. “There is a secret staircase that leads directly to the Academy campus gardens. [Reveal Illusion,]” he intoned.

  The stone wall rippled like disturbed water, then faded to translucence, revealing an archway carved with intricate runes that glowed with faint blue luminescence. Torches ignited along a spiral staircase that wound upward into darkness. “Zar, I expect to see you in my class come spring,” he called. He waved us off with his wing, creating a gust of wind that almost knocked us down. When I blinked away the dust and looked up again, the dragon had vanished into the deeper shadows of the cavern, leaving only the echo of scales sliding against stone.

  “What are you, a ninja?” I muttered, impressed and unnerved by how something so massive could disappear so completely in an instant.

  “What?” Luciana asked me, her brow furrowing in confusion.

  “Never mind, are you able to walk up the stairs?” I asked, concern clear in my voice as I scanned her from head to toe. Her dress hung in sodden tatters, her knees wobbled slightly beneath the damp fabric.

  She straightened her spine with visible effort, her lips curved into a weary smirk. “We don’t have a choice, do we?”

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  We started climbing. Each step rose nearly to my knees, clearly built for beings much larger than human. I hauled myself up each one, my thigh muscles burning with effort, my sodden clothes dragging like weights. Beside me, Luciana pulled herself upward, her breath coming in short, strained pants that formed little clouds in the increasingly cold air.

  She shot me a wry look, her lips curving into a half-smile despite the exhaustion etched in the shadows beneath her eyes. “So… you forced air into my lungs, huh? Didn’t think my first kiss would be like that.”

  “It wasn’t a kiss. It was medical intervention!” I stammered, heat crawling up my neck despite the chill. I didn’t want to be misunderstood. Sure, she’s older physically, but psychologically... No, not thinking about that.

  “Sure, whatever you say,” she murmured, tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear, “but just to be safe, let’s keep that between us?” she added.

  “Yeah, I get it,” I said as we finally reached the top, our labored breathing echoing against ancient stone. Before us emerged another archway with a massive double-sided door. As I touched it, the same runes as downstairs started to glow, no doubt revealing the secret passage on the other side. I pushed the doors, and ice-chilled air rushed inside. We stumbled into a garden blanketed in pristine snow that crunched beneath our feet, a small granite mausoleum with gargoyle sentinels behind us. Above, a full moon floated like a polished silver coin, bathing everything in ghostly blue light that made the frost-covered trees glitter like crystal sculptures.

  “This cold will kill us faster than any assassin,” I said, watching my breath crystallize in front of me. “We need to move inside a building.” Luciana nodded, her jaw trembling so violently her teeth clacked together like castanets. I wrapped my hand around her, pulling her closer, barely offering any warmth, as we walked across the moonlit snow toward a stone building where golden lamplight spilled from frost-rimmed windows.

  As we crossed the boundaries of the heavy oak door, a wall of warmth enveloped us like a forgotten embrace. Ice crystals clinging to my eyelashes slowly began to dissipate. The room smelled of expensive beeswax candles that cast dancing golden shadows across polished wooden floors. Mahogany bookshelves lined the stone walls, while a neat row of intricately carved desks stood in military precision down the center of the room.

  This was not a proper library, however, but a study hall, the kind where ambitious students hunched over parchment late into the night. Three teenagers occupied high-backed chairs near the crackling hearth, their quills freezing mid-stroke as they stared at us, their mouths agape. As I felt Luciana shiver against me, I drew a deep breath, summoning Mistress Cecile’s vocal drills from the depths of my training.

  “You,” I commanded, my voice resonating with an authority I didn’t feel, fixing my gaze on a round-faced boy whose copper hair caught the firelight like burnished coins. “Find Professor Estrah Ceedorec immediately and bring her here.” Without waiting for his response, I turned to a girl whose white robes bore the blue embroidered pattern of the Temple. “You, find blankets, furs, anything to warm the princess. She’s freezing.” Finally, I addressed the tallest and most fit among them, a youth with skin the color of burnished walnut and a crown of tight black curls. “And you, run to the Veridian Estate. It’s the large marble mansion facing the southern edge of Central Park, the middle of a set of three. Tell them their missing princess is here. Speak to no one else on your way there or back. The princess’s life depends on your discretion, understand?”

  Nobody moved. The three students stared at us like startled deer.

  “Did I stutter?” I snarled, my voice projecting against the stone walls. “Are you proud Academy students who can act during an emergency, or a bunch of helpless children? I said MOVE, people!”

  That snapped them out of it. The copper-haired boy and the athletic one jumped up, their chairs scraping the floor as they ran outside. The Temple girl, her hands shaking a little, went to a tall window and pulled down a heavy velvet curtain, the brass rings clattering loudly.

  I guided Luciana to a cozy armchair near the hearth where embers glowed dimly beneath a layer of gray ash. Her skin had taken on a bluish tinge once more, her lips nearly purple with cold. I grabbed three logs from the nearby stack, their bark rough against my palms, and arranged them over the coals, muttering, “[Move. Create breeze.]” The spell sent a current of air whistling through the wood. Flames leapt upward, dancing gold and crimson, and heat radiated outward in blessed waves.

  “Sir Wolf, sir, here,” the novice priestess said, offering the makeshift blanket, the heavy fabric pooling in her outstretched arms. Her eyes darted between us, uncertainty written across her features. “No, I need to step back, and you need to help her disrobe. Her clothes are soaked in ice-cold water. Her body temperature will keep dropping until we get rid of them. Please help her out of them and wrap her in this.”

  I moved to the window, pressing my forehead against the frosted glass to allow them privacy. The garden outside rested silently under the moonlight. My breath fogged the window in rhythmic clouds, each exhale temporarily obscuring my view of the grounds. I felt the chills, even inside, but not unbearably so. I guess my canine physiology helped somewhat. Time crawled by, marked only by the soft crackle of the hearth and Luciana’s occasional shivering breaths. Then movement caught my eye: a dark silhouette materialized at the garden’s edge, tall and broad-shouldered, moving with predatory grace. Bastien.

  My stomach clenched as I whirled toward the Temple girl, my claws scraping against the windowsill. “Lock the door behind me,” I growled, "barricade it with bookshelves if you have to. DO NOT let HIM inside.” I yanked the heavy oak door open and stepped into the biting cold to face my hunter.

  Bastien’s breath billowed around his face in the frigid air as his lips curled into a jackal’s smile. “Ah, so here you are. You are relentless, kid. I respect that.” He adjusted his grip on the hilt of his blade, the leather wrapping creaking softly. “If you step aside, I will let you live. You are not the contract.”

  My claws dug into my palms. “Any chance you can tell me who issued the contract?” I asked, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet, muscles coiled and ready, however weary they might be.

  He chuckled, a sound like gravel being crushed. “I could,” he said, moonlight glinting off the silver medallion around his neck, “but then I’d have to kill you.”

  “You’ll have to either way,” I hissed, baring my fangs as I shifted into a defensive stance. “I’m not moving.”

  “Shame,” Bastien said, drawing his broad sword, now stained with fresh blood, unlike before in the sewers. Catching me leering at his blade, he smirked, “Wondering about that? The kid you sent to the Veridian Estate, I am afraid, didn’t make it.”

  Rage exploded behind my eyes as I growled, “[Move!]” Power surged at the tips of my claws as mana gathered around them. I rushed towards him. His blade whistled toward my throat, a killing arc meant to separate head from shoulders, but I dropped on my knees and rolled beneath it, ice crystals biting into my fur.

  “[Wind Gust!]” The spell chant tore from my throat, pressurized air from my ring slamming into him with hurricane force. It worked better than back in the sewers, as his boots skidded across the ice and he tried to find his balance. I pressed my advantage by driving my fist into his jaw. It didn’t do much damage, but then I added a wild mana spell to the mix, “[Create spark!]”

  He flinched back, his weathered face contorting as he shielded his eyes from the cascade of fiery sparks that sizzled against his skin. I lunged forward, my claws digging into the leather bracer at his wrist as I coiled my body around his sword arm like a serpent. I drove my knee hard against the joint of his elbow, feeling tendons strain beneath my force, aiming to snap the limb backward. It didn’t snap, but at least his nicked blade tumbled into the snow with a muffled thunk.

  As I attempted to spring away, his massive free hand connected with my muzzle, knuckles crashing against bone with a sickening crack that reverberated through my skull. The world tilted violently, reminding me of that time I was hit by a truck. My limp body sailed through the frigid air before crashing into a snowdrift, ice crystals stinging my nostrils as I gasped to breathe. Through a kaleidoscope of blurred shapes and dancing black spots, I forced my trembling limbs to obey, adrenaline flooding my veins like liquid fire as I struggled to my feet.

  His fist drove into my gut like a battering ram before I could dodge. “Just give up, kid.” Stomach acid scorched my throat as I vomited, choking on my own bile. Before I could suck in a breath, his knuckles exploded against my ear, a thunderclap inside my skull. The world went silent, replaced by a high-pitched shriek that drilled into my brain.

  I lay sprawled on my back, the moon swimming above me through tears and blood. Bastien’s massive silhouette loomed into my field of vision, his recovered blade catching moonlight as he raised it for the killing blow. His eyes carried that professional killer’s pity, the last gift of the executioner.

  Then suddenly his eyes bulged, flooding scarlet as a hair-thin crimson line materialized across his throat. For one suspended heartbeat, nothing happened, then his head slid sideways, blood erupting in a pressurized geyser. I could see the look of surprise shift to horror on his face before his head hit the ground, followed by his crumpled body.

  "Must be Aunt Estrah," I gurgled through blood-flecked lips as consciousness fled like water through cupped hands.