The dreams came in fragments at first.

A hum that wasn’t hers. Footsteps in shallow water. A faint melody echoing from somewhere unreachable—just beneath the surface of sleep, just far enough to stay out of reach.

Eira woke with the taste of ash in her throat and a lingering chill on her skin.

The Dragon King wasn’t there when she opened her eyes.

She wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

The days were colder now. Even with the mountain’s firelit halls, a creeping chill settled in her bones. The dragonling still followed her like a shadow, curling at her feet when she paused too long. Harik, as always, watched from a distance.

And yet, something had shifted.

She began to notice doors she hadn’t seen before—arched entrances carved from stone, tunnels breathing cool air, floors sloping down when she thought they should go up. The deeper she wandered, the quieter the mountain grew.

Even the walls seemed to hum with the faintest echo of that melody.

At first, she told herself it was in her head. Mountain acoustics. Imagination. The tension from being watched, cared for, restrained, desired.

But then the song followed her into waking.

She heard it one morning while washing her face—just a single note, floating behind her like a sigh. She turned fast, hand dripping, heart hammering. Nothing.

Only the silent curve of the corridor behind her.

She stopped sleeping in the main chamber after that. Not out of fear—at least that’s what she told herself—but because her dreams were stronger when she was alone.

She dreamed of tunnels lined with glass.

She dreamed of eyes watching from behind the walls.

She dreamed of a woman singing to something beneath the ground—something old, something waiting.

And each time she woke, she remembered more.

One morning, she dared to follow a corridor she hadn't explored. It sloped downward in a slow curve, cool air brushing her arms as if beckoning her forward. The dragonling hesitated at the entrance, letting out a soft growl.

“You’re not coming?”

It gave her one long look and backed away into the shadows.

Eira turned and pressed forward.

The path narrowed as she walked, the torches fewer, the silence thick. Her fingers skimmed the wall beside her. Smooth stone turned to carved symbols—old, swirling patterns half-eroded by time.

She stopped at a small door. Iron. Out of place.

It wasn’t locked.

She pushed.

A gust of air met her—cold and damp, with the faintest scent of earth and rain. The space beyond yawned like a mouth: stone steps, steep and coiling, falling into darkness.

She hesitated.

Then she heard it again.

The song.

This time, not faint. Not a trick.

Clear. Low. Real.

One note, then another. A haunting lullaby sung without words.

Her feet moved before her mind caught up.

Step after step, the cold growing sharper, her breath becoming visible. The air was heavy here, pressing against her ribs.

At the bottom of the steps, a chamber opened up. Circular. Silent. Covered in moss and glass-like crystal veins. The song stopped the moment she stepped in.

Her voice trembled as she whispered, “Hello?”

No reply.

But in the center of the chamber, she saw a shallow pool.

Black water. Still as glass.

And beneath it—movement.

Not fast, not threatening. But slow. Rhythmic.

Breathing.

She backed away, heart racing. Her instincts screamed go back. But she didn’t run.

Instead, she turned—and found him standing at the entrance of the tunnel.

The Dragon King.

He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look surprised.

Only… tired.

“I told you,” he said quietly. “Some places in this mountain were not meant for you.”

“But it called me,” she whispered. “Why?”

His eyes darkened, and the flickering torchlight caught the sharp edge of something unspoken in his expression.

“You’re not ready,” he said. “And neither is it.”

He reached out, but she stepped away—not out of fear, but out of confusion and defiance tangled together.

“I’m not your prisoner,” she said.

“No,” he agreed. “You’re not.”

Still, she followed him back in silence.

But her thoughts stayed behind—with the pool, the song, and whatever it was that breathed beneath the mountain.