The Dragon's Match

Epilogue

Epilogue

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Alone.

He was alone.

His chest constricted painfully, his heart thundering so violently he feared it may shatter within the dark cavern behind his sternum. Pawing uselessly at his breast, he found little reprieve, not when he knew that she was gone.

It ingrained itself within his bones- that knowledge, that pivotal component of his very existence, the reason he lived and breathed.

Lillian was gone.

The shadows in his peripherals swarmed him, inhaled towards him, and he staggered against something solid. The wall.

He could scarcely recall where he was, only aware that he was here, now, and what had come before had rendered him incognizant of everything else until this moment. The hallway was dark, muted light slowly devoured by the encroaching shadows. Of night? He wasn't sure, but it felt... wrong. It felt suffocating, foreboding, and he pushed himself upright, the brand on his arm burning with a ferocity that made his eyes water.

His body felt heavy, too sluggish, as he stumbled through the hall. A weight lingered on his chest, over his heart, as his lungs struggled to pull in an adequate breath. Perhaps he was suffocating...

Somehow, he found an exit and he staggered outside, the sky tumultuously grey above him. Before him- steps. The peripherals of his vision blurred, the distant roll of thunder meeting his ears and a vague static in the air compelling the hairs on his arm to stand on end. The descent was fluid, his legs moving with an urgency once his focal point cleared to a form at the bottom. No, a figure.

Blayne.

His boots were loud as they crunched on the gravel beside the other male who was on his knees, his shoulders slumped forward. His hair veiled his face, preventing Aëghan from deciphering his expression but the air was ripe with it- despair. Desperation.

"She's gone."

The words were listless, flat. Resigned.

"Who?" But Aëghan already knew the answer, he didn't need further confirmation. The beastkeeper's hands were palm up on his knees, a dainty bonnet in one, the lilac ribbons dangling limply in the other. Millie had been wearing it before she had gone riding with the others.

His eyes caught on the flutter of material nearby. There, in the gravel, a pastel shawl with embroidered lilies on the edges.

He'd gifted Lillian it the day after she had told him they were expecting...

The earth met his legs as they folded beneath him, his fingers clutching desperately at the silken fabric of the shawl and hauling it to his chest as if it alone could ease the vice that was set on cracking each one of his ribs. Beneath his skin, the dragon shifted, enraged and grieving, and he felt the power surge through his veins, splitting skin and bone and flesh.

And he let it.

➶

Aëghan jolted awake, his torso lifting from the bed as if struck. Instinctually, his hand glided across the sheet, finding no one beside him.

He panicked, the dream or premonition so achingly fresh in his mind he had yet to orientate himself correctly.

Lillian's chambers were dark and cool, the fire having died behind the hearth some time before, and he turned on the mattress, bolting upright. Lillian was gone.