Ink's POV
They say the dragon comes when you're at your strongest.
They're wrong.
It comes when you're split down the middle — when your blood boils too loud to ignore, and the girl in you can't hold the monster anymore.
It's been two days since Scarlett.
I haven't told anyone. Not Leah. Not my parents. Not the mirror I keep avoiding. But I feel it in my bones — something has shifted. Something has opened.
Like she lit a fuse under my skin, and now everything is ticking.
"You'll wear the Aries crest for the formal engagement."
My mother's voice is silk over steel. She's holding out the brooch — crimson, shaped like a ram's horn. It's heavy. Old. Older than any of us.
I don't take it.
She stares. "Ink. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
"I'm not marrying Leah."
"She balances you."
"She traps me."
A flicker of movement. My father enters the chamber behind her — silent, as always, like a shadow that judges but never speaks. He's the one who saw the first signs of my dragon shift. He's the one who swore to keep it hidden.
"You think this is about love?" my mother asks. "This is about survival. For your clan. For the realm."
"Maybe I don't care about the realm."
"You will," she says, soft now. "When you grow up."
I blink.
And that's when it happens.
The heat rushes up from the pit of my spine. It's not emotional. It's physical — violent. Real. My hands tremble. My pulse rips through my veins like it's trying to claw out of my chest.
Smoke curls from my fingers. My vision doubles. The walls shake.
"I—" I choke, stumbling back, hands gripping the edge of the dresser. The wood chars under my skin.
"Ink?" My mother steps forward, reaching out.
"Don't—!"
But it's too late.
A roar — not from my throat, but from inside me.
I drop to my knees. My skin flashes gold, then scales. For a heartbeat, my spine cracks, lengthens. My jaw splits.
Wings punch out of my back in spectral fire, unfurled and wild — not solid yet, not full form, but enough to light the whole chamber.
My mother screams.
My father rushes forward — not to help, but to stop me. Restrain me. His hand goes for the inhibitor ring. I swat it away with a snap of my half-formed tail, sending him crashing into the stone pillar.
"I told you," I snarl, voice broken in two — girl and beast layered into one. "You can't control this."
"You're not ready," my mother gasps. "You're going to destroy everything—"
"I am destruction."
The wings flare brighter, hot as the sun. The glass in the windows warps, bends, and then shatters outward in a storm of light and ash.
Later, I wake on the floor.
My throat is raw. My hands are burned. The room is scorched black and empty.
The only thing that hasn't turned to ash is the Aries brooch.
It sits in the ruins, untouched.
Mocking me.