7. Lyra

7

LYRA

I stand before a sea of horned monsters, their eyes burning into me like hot coals. My heart races as I take in their features, each one more terrifying than the last. Well, they would be if not for the fact that many of them are as bare as the day they were born.

It's the creature on the throne that truly terrifies. He's massive, with horns that curl like a ram's and eyes that glow like molten gold. He's magnificent and terrifying all at once, and I can't help but feel like a mouse caught in the gaze of a hawk. I feel like I'm back on that ship, the storm raging around me as I cling to the chest for dear life.

As I scan the room, my eyes land on a figure that sends a chill down my spine. It's the winged beast from my nightmare, its eyes locked on mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak. He is… but he isn't. The beast that carried me was a beast but this… this is a man. Sort of.

His long black hair hangs down, doing nothing to hide the fact that he is as naked as the rest of the room. My cheeks flush with a new kind of heat when my eyes drop below his waist, and I realize that hardly anything would be able to cover something of that size.

The creature on the throne speaks, his voice like thunder rumbling through the room. "Who are you, and why have you come here?"

I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. "I-I'm Lyra. I was on a merchant ship that was caught in a storm. I don't know how I ended up here."

The creature's eyes narrow, and I can feel his anger radiating off of him in waves. "You lie. You are a spy, sent by our enemies to infiltrate our ranks."

I shake my head frantically, trying to deny his accusations. "No, I swear. I don't know anything about your enemies."

The beast from my dream steps forward, its eyes dark as it towers over me. "She speaks the truth," it says, its voice low and menacing. "I can sense it."

I'm starting to understand that it wasn't a dream at all.

The creature on the throne regards the dream-beast for a moment before turning to address the rest of the room.

"The survivors will be enslaved. They will serve us until they are no longer of use."

A collective murmur ripples through the crowd of monsters, and I can feel the weight of their gaze on me. My heart sinks as I realize that my fate is sealed. I will be a slave once again.

But before I can fully process my new reality, my dream beast steps forward. "I claim this one as my own," he says, his voice echoing through the room.

I feel a jolt of electricity run through me as his eyes meet mine. He's as much a monster as the rest of them but when he looks at me it isn't with disgust.

But not everyone is happy with his claim. A female with tangling brown horns steps forward, her eyes blazing with fury. "You can't claim her," she snarls. "That's preposterous!"

My dream beast turns to face her, his expression cold and unyielding. "I can, and I will," he says. "The Elder has permitted it."

The female's eyes narrow, and I can see the anger building inside of her. She's about to lunge at my beast when the creature on the throne, the Elder , speaks up.

"Enough," he says, his voice like a whip cracking through the air. "Zoldryn has claimed the human as his own. She will serve him, and no one else."

The female's face contorts with rage, but she doesn't speak again. Instead, she turns on her heel and storms out of the room.

I'm left standing there, feeling like a piece of meat being fought over by two predators. But as I look into the beast's eyes, Zoldryn's eyes, I can't help but feel a sense of relief. At least I'm not dead.

"Thank you, Elder." Zoldryn's cold voice sends a shiver down my spine as he thanks the Elder.

I watch in awe as he strides over to me, his powerful form radiating an aura of dominance. He grabs the chains linking me to the human boy who had nearly gotten me killed, and with a show of impossible strength, snaps them in two.

I gasp as he scoops me up in his arms, cradling me against his chest. His touch is gentle, yet firm, and I can feel the heat radiating off of him. I'm too stunned to protest, too overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events.

As he carries me out of the room, I catch a glimpse of the other survivors being led away by the monsters. My heart aches for them, but I can't help feeling a sense of relief that I'm not among them. None of the others seemed too keen on sparing us.

As he leaps into darkness, lit only by the occasional flame, I realize I've simply traded one moment of slavery for another. Who knows what