Daughter.

  The word rattled in my skull, too heavy, too final.

  No. That wasn’t — I wasn’t—

  I swallowed hard, my breath shaky. My mind scrambled for something, anything, to ground myself.

  But there was nothing.

  No familiar weight of my sword. No battered armor. No Elias.

  Just me. Just this body, these trembling hands, this voice that didn’t sound like mine.

  A sharp chill crawled over my skin, and I barely suppressed a shudder.

  Wait.

  I wasn’t wearing anything.

  I stiffened, arms instinctively moving to cover myself before the thought even finished forming.

  Where did my clothes..?

  Then it hit me.

  The body. The change.

  My fingers trembled against my sides, pressing into smooth, unfamiliar skin. It wasn’t about my clothes.

  It was me.

  A sinking dread settled in my chest.

  It’s just my body. I tried to tell myself. Just—just my body.

  But the thoughts rang hollow.

  The taller of the two dragons—the one who did this to me—watched in silence, waiting.

  Waiting for what? For me to accept it? To kneel? To thank her?

  I forced my lips to part, though my throat felt raw.

  “What…?” The word barely escaped, hoarse and too unfamiliar. “What did you—”

  The taller woman hummed, tilting her head.

  “What shall I call you?”

  I blinked. "What?"

  Her golden eyes flicked over me with something unreadable. Judgment? Amusement? Possession?

  “You will need a name,” she continued. “One that suits you.”

  A sharp prickle of unease crawled up my spine.

  No.

  I already had a name.

  My jaw tightened.

  “…My name is Elias.”

  For a moment, there was silence.

  Then, she exhaled through her nose, amusement flickering into something else.

  “No,” she said simply. “That name is dead.”

  My stomach twisted.

  Dead.

  Just like everything else I had been.

  Her eyes gleamed, and for the first time, her voice carried a weight that pressed down like the ice itself.

  “You are reborn. You will have a name that reflects what you are. What you will become.”

  She lifted a hand, fingers spyed. I felt something stir—something deep within me, something I couldn’t fight. A pulse. A whisper of magic that answered her call.

  She spoke, and the sound of it resonated inside me like a bell tolling through my bones. A name, ancient and draconic, given form.

  "Elyssinthar."

  The moment she said it, something inside me, my center, my core reacted. A rush of something foreign, powerful, mine.

  Heat bloomed in my chest, deep and pulsing, like a second heartbeat. It surged, curling through my veins with a force that was on the borderline of pain but somehow felt alright. It surrounded me like a protective bubble.

  Then, I felt another.

  Not mine.

  The younger woman—the one who had been gring at me since the moment I emerged—her presence crashed into mine like frostbitten steel. Cold, controlled, sharp.

  I recoiled. My own core felt pitiful in comparison, curling inward, weak.

  But then—

  I felt hers.

  The moment my core brushed against the taller woman’s presence, I froze.

  It enveloped me and There was no end to it.

  A weight so vast, so crushing, that it suddenly eclipsed everything else. My own felt like a flickering ember next to a roaring blizzard, so immense was the difference.

  I shuddered involuntarily, barely able to breathe beneath the sheer presence of it.

  She chuckled. “Ah. You feel it, don’t you?”

  I swallowed, unable to answer.

  She lifted her chin, golden eyes gleaming. “You are young. Small. Weak. But you are mine now. A Dragon.”

  Her lips curved into something satisfied. Sharp, unblemished white teeth hinting at what she truly was.

  “Know this, I am Sythriss. The Ice Empress. The strongest of our kind. You, my daughter, are now a member of my flight.”

  The younger woman stiffened beside her. Her gre sharpened, but she said nothing.

  Sythriss turned to her with a knowing look.

  “And this is my daughter, your sister, Vaelith.”

  Vaelith’s scowl deepened. As if she hated the very idea of acknowledging me.

  Sythriss barely seemed to notice—or, more likely, she didn’t care. Instead, she turned back to me, satisfied.

  “Among those beneath you," she continued, "you will simply be Elyssia.”

  I blinked.

  Elyssia.

  The name felt foreign on my tongue, but—not wrong.

  She studied me for a moment longer before adding, "A dragon’s true name is never given lightly. It carries weight, power. When spoken, it binds. Do not give it freely, nor allow another to wield it against you."

  Oh, Gods no.

  A name was more than just a name—it was a weapon. A means of control then.

  Before I could respond, Vaelith scoffed.

  “It is a wasted name,” she muttered, arms crossing, her disgust barely concealed. “She should not exist.”

  Not he. Not even it, as she had so disdainfully called me before.

  She.

  I swallowed, my hands curling into fists against my sides.

  Sythriss merely turned her gaze toward her. The air thickened, a silent weight pressing down. Vaelith stiffened under it, but still held her ground.

  “You doubt me?” Sythriss asked.

  It may have appeared to some as a challenge but I could tell better. Sythriss's core simply smothered our own. There was no challenge here, just absolute domination.

  Vaelith’s lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t answer.

  A long pause stretched between them, the silence heavy.

  Then, Sythriss exhaled through her nose, amusement flickering in her golden eyes.

  “She will learn,” she murmured.

  Her attention slid back to me, her presence settling over me like an immovable force.

  “You are weak now,” she said, her tone casual, as if stating an indisputable fact. “That will change.”

  My stomach twisted.

  She stepped closer, each movement slow, deliberate, measured.

  "Your instincts will surface soon," she continued, eyes half-lidded as if she were already anticipating it. “You will crave strength. Crave flesh. Crave power.”

  A strange heat curled in my gut at the mention of flesh. Not yet.

  But the way she said it—like it was inevitable—made something tighten in my chest.

  I forced my voice to work. “I don’t—”

  “You will.”

  The certainty in her voice sent a chill down my spine.

  Vaelith exhaled sharply. “If she’s even capable.”

  Sythriss gnced at her, expression unreadable. Then, she flicked her fingers toward her.

  “Go, hunt.”

  Vaelith’s jaw tightened. "You cannot be serious."

  Sythriss barely spared her a gnce. Her clore flexed again.

  A beat of hesitation.

  Then, finally, Vaelith turned on her heel and left.

  The air in the chamber shifted, the weight of her presence disappearing as she strode away.

  I barely had time to process it before Sythriss turned back to me.

  I met her gaze, my stomach still knotted.

  "You will eat," she said simply. "Then you will learn."

  Learn.

  Learn what?

  I swallowed hard, but didn’t dare ask.

  Her golden eyes remained on me for a moment longer, as if gauging something unseen. Then, finally, she stepped back.

  Her presence lingered, though—unshakable, inescapable.

  The weight of her words settled deep in my bones.

  Sythriss exhaled slowly, her golden eyes flicking over me with quiet judgment.

  Then she turned slightly, gaze moving toward the far side of the chamber.

  “You will eat,” she said again, as if the matter had already been decided.

  I hesitated, something curling tight in my stomach.

  “What…” My voice was hoarse, uneven. “What happens after that?”

  A faint hum left her throat, thoughtful.

  “When you are able, you may leave.”

  I blinked. “Leave?”

  She gestured subtly, her cwed fingers tracing the air. My gaze followed—upward.

  Only now did I fully grasp the scale of the space around me.

  The chamber stretched high, towering ice walls rising on all sides, smooth and unbroken. No doors. No paths.

  But at the top—a hole in the ceiling. A jagged opening leading out into the sky.

  A way out.

  I swallowed hard. “And if I can’t?”

  Sythriss gave a slight tilt of her head. “Then you will remain.”

  Something about the simplicity of her words made my chest tighten.

  She expected me to grow strong enough to leave. Or maybe she didn’t care whether I did or not.

  It was up to me.

  I clenched my fingers against the frozen ground, the chill biting at my skin.

  Sythriss’s gaze lingered for a moment longer. Then, she exhaled lightly.

  “There will be someone to tend to you after your meal,” she said. “You will begin learning soon.”

  Learning.

  The weight of that word settled into me. Learning what?

  My thoughts tangled together, but before I could form a response, she shifted.

  Not turned. Not stepped.

  Shifted.

  Her body rippled, ice-blue mist curling around her like frost forming in fast-forward. The glow of her golden eyes remained fixed on me, unwavering, even as her form grew rger.

  Limbs stretched, bones rearranging, a long sinuous tail forming behind her as wings unfurled.

  And then she was no longer standing before me.

  She loomed.

  Massive.

  The air shuddered with her presence. The frost thickened.

  A dragon.

  Not the pale, refined woman with golden eyes—but the truth of what she was.

  She lifted her great head, nostrils fring as if taking in the scent of the space. Then, with a powerful push of her hind legs, she unched upward, her wings unfurling in a gust of wind and ice as she vanished through the jagged opening above.

  The air stilled.

  The cold remained, curling around me like an old companin.

  And I was alone.