| |
 |
Arlaina’s heart hammered in her chest, the rhythm erratic as the dragon’s cold, predatory gaze turned toward her. There was something visceral in the way it studied her, an unsettling awareness in its eyes that made her skin prickle with the sharp edge of danger. She felt the weight of the tension pressing against her, suffocating, but she forced herself to stand tall—no retreat, no hesitation. The low growl vibrated through her bones, a sound that wrapped itself around her like a threat. Rowan’s anxiety was palpable beside her, his fear almost tangible, but Arlaina couldn't afford to indulge it. Not now. Not with the dragon watching them with such lethal patience. Her hand clenched at her side, the pulse of strange, electric energy within her thrumming in response to the dragon’s call. She didn’t understand it fully, but she could feel it, the connection, the power. It surged through her veins, thrumming against her skin, just beneath the surface. A warning. A promise. The dragon was dangerous. She knew that much. But it wasn’t just a beast. It was something more—something ancient. And if it was going to test her, it would find no easy prey. The air around her crackled, sharp with the charge of unspoken challenge, as she met the dragon’s piercing gaze head-on. |
|
|
| |
|
The dragon didn't move a millimeter away, rather it seemed to lean ever more closer, its long and slender snout coming inches from her face before it let out a harsh exhale of air into her face from its nostrils. Its claws inched toward Rowan, as if about to scoop him up and take off. Before it did anything its pupils suddenly narrowed to a normal shape and suddenly it was reeling back, hissing and growling at both her and Rowan, but without its usual malice, almost fear and confusion as if it didn't understand where it was all of a sudden or what it was doing. It turned and took off but didn't go far before it was forced to fly a certain distance away only, as if stuck on a leash.
Rowan stared, he simply just stared until the dragon tried leaving. He heaved as if suddenly released from a trance or spell, though the ancient magic was still clinging to him, refusing to leave his body or soul. |
|  |
|
Nighttime Thunderstorms with Hail
