Seraphina Frostscale's Arc

Chapter 3 of 11

The northern soil was corrupted, and Seraphina could not master her shift while the poison waited to twist it. So she went north to the one dragon who might teach her control. Draven rode behind her on the wingcat, his sword strapped to his back. The den rose from the frost, gray stone crowned with blue ice. Snow banked its arched mouth. Seraphina slid down and climbed toward the dark opening. The thing in her chest pushed at her ribs with every step. Inside waited the ice dragon queen, Glaciana Frostborne. She was small, with white hair and a crown of ice, but the cold rolled off her like a wall. She did not rise. She only looked at Seraphina and spoke first. "You want the elder shift," Glaciana said. "But the beast slips your grip. I can smell it. It wants out right now." "It comes loose when I feel too much," Seraphina said. "I need to hold it steady." Glaciana lifted a pendant from her neck. Its center stone glowed, ringed with old runes. "This wakes sealed magic. When it opens, it will not stop. If you cannot hold, the shift tears free wrong." She held it out. "Take it. Or leave." Seraphina took the pendant and put it on. The stone flared. The clawing thing surged up her throat at once. Her scales rose. Heat and cold fought under her skin. Panic spiked, and the beast lunged for the gap. "Steady," Glaciana said, cold and flat. "Feeling is the door. Feel it wrong and it drags you out." Seraphina's hands shook. The pendant burned hot. Her vision split. She reached for the panic and it grew. "Anchor," Draven said behind her. One word. She turned. His red eyes held on her. He had learned this the hard way, dragging his own dragon back by fixing on her. Now he gave it back. Seraphina stopped fighting the feeling. She let it in. She fixed on Draven's face, on the ground under her feet, on her own steady breath. The panic did not vanish. She held it in her fist instead of pushing it away. The beast pressed the gap, and she pressed back, and this time the gap held. The pendant's glow settled to a low, even light. Her scales lay flat. The clawing thing pulled hard, then quieted under her grip. It was still there. But it moved when she chose, and stopped when she chose. Glaciana leaned forward. For the first time her cold eyes showed interest. "You hold it now," she said. "The door stays shut until you open it." Seraphina breathed. The thing in her chest sat still for the first time in her life. She could hold the beast now. She could shift when she willed it. But she could not shift here. The corrupted north waited outside the den, and any shift on this poisoned ground would still twist her wrong.