Aiona ascended the elegant stairs leading up to her palace entrance with natural grace and poise, moving with the confidence of someone completely at home. Yana and Garam remained behind at the base of the stairs, not following her up. They both seemed like they desperately wanted to accompany her, their bodies leaning forward with the impulse. But somehow they couldn't actually move their bodies to do so, as if some invisible force held them frozen in place.
Just how genuinely terrifying was this man who waited inside? I found myself thinking with growing dread. But Aiona herself didn't seem to fear him in the slightest—well, that was probably a given. She was an absolutely terrifying existence herself, an ancient dragon. What more could she possibly have to fear? What could threaten someone like her?
As Aiona passed through the opened double doors leading into the main formal greeting area of her palace, the very air itself seemed to fundamentally change around us. The atmosphere grew thick and oppressive. The large windows that normally faced toward the ocean and let in beautiful natural light were all tightly closed and covered through and through with massive, heavy curtains. So the interior of the palace was unnaturally dark—yet the thick fabric didn't manage to block out the bright afternoon sunlight completely. Some light still filtered through.
In the resulting dim, shadowy light, I could see a figure on the dais that led to the grand staircase. A man sat there in a deliberately provocative position. He leaned back casually on the stairs behind him, his body supported by his elbows, and his legs spread wide in a posture of confident dominance. He had his muscular chest completely exposed and on display, the ornate robe he wore sprawled carelessly behind him like a discarded cloak.
Through Aiona's excellent enhanced dragon vision, I could see this mysterious man with perfect clarity despite the dimness. He was a strikingly dark-haired man—exceptionally, almost supernaturally handsome in a way that seemed wrong somehow. His hair was remarkably long, reaching all the way down to his waist even in that bizarre sitting position. His eyes were the most unsettling feature—they were pure gold in color, like glowing ambers of concentrated light captured in the evening. They literally glowed terrifyingly in the darkness, reflecting light like a predator's eyes when they caught illumination—like a wolf or great cat eyeing its prey with hungry intent.
Something fundamental about this man felt profoundly wrong and ancient. Like I was staring directly at something that wasn't supposed to exist in the first place, something that violated natural law. There was one other time I had felt exactly this way before, I was certain of it. But when was that? I suddenly couldn't remember the specific instance, the memory slipping away like smoke.
But the critical point was clear: I genuinely didn't know or understand how Aiona could possibly deal with this deeply unsettling man on any regular basis. I personally wanted absolutely nothing to do with that horrifying individual. He made my blood run ice cold just from looking at him, and I felt myself shiver uncontrollably despite not actually being physically present.
Contrary to my completely horrified reaction, Aiona simply let out an annoyed sigh at seeing him there. And then she just calmly walked over to the covered windows and began opening the heavy curtains one by one, letting the bright, cheerful sunlight stream back in to chase away the darkness.
"Why do you love the dark so much?" she asked in a conversational tone, not even bothering to look at the man as she worked. "It's a beautiful day outside."
I didn't hear any verbal response from him. And that silence made me increasingly anxious. Aiona currently had her back completely turned toward that predatory man, leaving herself vulnerable. He might try something dangerous while she was distracted. The irrational fear gripping my heart just wouldn't go away no matter how much I tried to reason with myself.
Finally I heard something—a subtle rustling sound from behind Aiona's position. And suddenly, without any warning, Aiona was grabbed and hugged in an absolutely dreadful grip from behind, a hold so unnaturally strong it had to be painful. The muscular arms that wrapped around her were adorned with numerous golden rings, elaborate bracelets, and decorative cuffs, all of them embedded with glowing magic crystals that pulsed with power.
I felt a sharp chill run violently down my spine at the contact. Whatever this being was, it was immensely strong. Stronger than even Aiona herself, a full dragon. What the hell was he exactly? What kind of unnatural abomination had been bestowed upon this world? I desperately wanted to run, to flee as fast as possible without ever looking back to find out his true nature.
And for the first time since these visions had begun, I felt genuine fear emanating from Aiona's demeanor and consciousness. Along with that fear came waves of disgust, because she was being intimately hugged and touched by someone who wasn't her mate. She struggled actively to break herself free from the unwanted embrace, twisting and pulling. But the man held her effortlessly in an iron grip without letting her break free no matter how hard she fought.
Then he chuckled at her struggles, clearly amused. His voice was unnaturally deep and melodious, beautiful and terrible at once. His warm breath tickled against Aiona's sensitive ear as he held her, and she shivered in visible disgust at the intimacy.
And then the horrible truth dawned on me with crushing certainty: This man was deliberately playing with us. He knew exactly how powerful he was, understood his overwhelming strength advantage. And he was acting just like a cruel cat toying with its helpless prey simply because the game amused him. He was the worst of the worst kind of being. And being forced into the role of prey in a world where you were supposed to be the apex predator didn't sit right with me or with Aiona. The humiliation and fear were overwhelming.
What the hell was this man really?
"You're hurting me," Aiona finally said in a strained, carefully controlled voice. She forced herself to be very still, to stop struggling, so she didn't amuse the monster any further or provoke him into worse.
That submission somehow made the man abruptly give up his game. He released Aiona from his grip and casually walked over to the windows she had just opened. He looked at the bright sun with obvious resentment in his golden eyes, as if personally offended by its existence. And then he simply snapped his fingers once.
As he completed that casual gesture, the blazing afternoon sun and the entire bright day disappeared instantly into deep midnight. The moon suddenly appeared in the sky, illuminating the darkness with its pale light. Day had become night in a single instant.
"Much better," the man said with obvious satisfaction, examining his casual work of rewriting reality itself.
Then he slowly turned toward Aiona, fixing those glowing golden eyes on her.
"So, where have you been lately, my love?" he asked, his tone deceptively pleasant and conversational.
---
I woke up suddenly, gasping desperately for air as if I'd been drowning. The primal, instinctive fear I'd felt still clung to me stubbornly, refusing to dissipate. It was incredibly hard to get rid of. I felt it etched into my very bones—no, deeper than that, into my whole existence and soul.
"Aiona... Aiona..." I frantically called out to her consciousness, reaching desperately for her presence within me. But there was absolutely no answer, no response at all. It was as if she hadn't returned from the dream yet, still trapped in that memory.
I had been a coward. That man, that thing called Jarun, had scared me so profoundly and completely that I had forcibly wrenched myself awake rather than continue watching. I had deliberately clenched my fists so hard that my nails dug painfully into my palms and drew blood, using the sharp physical pain to shock myself back to consciousness and escape.
In my panicked haste to flee, I had left Aiona completely alone in that dream, abandoned in that memory. She surely didn't want to be left alone with that creature. The guilt hit me immediately.
I let out a heavy, shaky sigh of self-recrimination.
"If I fall asleep again, will I go back to that same dream?" I mumbled to myself uncertainly, staring at the ceiling. "Or was that my only chance?"
Then I forced myself to get up from the bed and walked over to the balcony positioned on the right side of the bedroom. I needed fresh air, needed to ground myself in reality. It was still the middle of the night here in the real world. And the stars shone so beautifully in the clear sky, surrounding the gentle moon with their distant light. It was peaceful and normal and safe.
The cool night wind evaporated the cold sweat that had gathered on my forehead during the nightmare. And as the breeze touched my skin, I was suddenly reminded of that man, Jarun, turning day into night with just a snap of his fingers. Casually rewriting the fundamental laws of reality like it was nothing.
"Again, what the hell is he?" I asked myself out loud, my voice barely above a whisper. "What have you gotten yourself into, Aiona? What was that thing?"
But Aiona still didn't answer my desperate questions. She remained silent and absent.
I knew what I had to do. I had to return to her, had to go back into that dream. No matter how much that unnatural entity scared me to my very core, no matter how much every instinct screamed at me to stay away, I still wanted to know what had happened. I needed to understand what had driven Aiona to such madness that she eventually burned down the entire kingdom she had once loved and protected. What could transform love into such destructive hatred?
I let out another deep, resigned sigh and wrapped my arms around myself.
"I really, really don't want to do this," I mumbled quietly to the night air, trying to gather my courage. "But I have to. For her. For understanding."
I stood on the balcony for several more minutes, just breathing and preparing myself mentally. Then finally, reluctantly, I walked back over to the bed with heavy steps. I lay down carefully, pulling the covers over myself.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to relax, to let go of consciousness. I focused on Aiona, on reaching for her presence, on returning to that memory no matter how terrifying.
Sleep came slowly, reluctantly. But eventually, it took me.
And I found myself falling back into the dream, back into Aiona's past, back to face whatever horror awaited there.