As if the universe had been listening in on our very worst thoughts and decided to answer with a middle finger, the dragon stirred.
Its eyes flickered—beamed, even—with a sudden pulse of unnatural light.
That was all it took.
Instantly, everyone snapped to attention like broken springs. Instincts sharpened. Our gazes all locked on the slowly awakening monstrosity before us. The temperature didn't change, but the air somehow felt suffocating—thick with something raw and wrong.
Amelia still has her hands on its head, mid-ritual, but the look on her face made it clear: something had gone sideways.
Very sideways.
Leon's brows drew together tightly, and Amelia… her jaw trembled ever so slightly, sweat starting to drip down the side of her face. Her focus was cracking.
Yeah. Not a good sign.
I couldn't help the bitter smirk that curved my lips. I glanced at Isolde and muttered, "Why do I get the feeling this dragon's gonna wake up and punch us square in the face?"
