Chapter X: Y'shtola's Dragon Princess and Realization of Truth.
The night was thick with silence in Gridania. Aldra sat with her knees drawn close, silver-blue hair catching faint moonlight, her tail curled tight around her. Alisaie rested beside her, ever the steady presence, hand placed firmly on Aldra’s trembling shoulder.“You’re not alone,” Alisaie whispered, her voice soft but unwavering. “No matter how much she tries, she can’t take you if you don’t let her. You’re stronger than that.”But even as she spoke, Aldra’s body betrayed her. Her hand hovered close to her chest, her breath quick and shallow. Her heart pulled in two directions, the warmth of Alisaie’s reassurance, and the burning ache Y’shtola had planted in her veins. Aldra wanted to believe her sisterly protector, but her body ached for Y’shtola’s presence, for the spell that had made her crave so deeply.Far away, in the cavernous shadows of Matoya’s Relict, Y’shtola’s staff struck the ground, igniting the runes she had prepared. Her spell began to twist outward, an invisible tether that snaked across the land. She had no need for patience anymore. Her obsession had sharpened into a blade.“Alisaie,” she murmured darkly, her voice echoing against stone walls, “you think you can keep her from me? Then let us see how long you can remain by her side.” The spell unfurled, not to seduce, but to seize, its threads searching for Alisaie, to wrench her away from Aldra as she had been forced to endure once before.In Gridania, Aldra gasped suddenly, clutching at her chest. Her vision swam, a pressure pressing down on her heart. Alisaie leaned in quickly, gripping her arm. “Aldra, what’s wrong?”“I… I feel her,” Aldra whispered, voice breaking. Her eyes shone with fear and longing, torn between comfort and craving. “She’s… reaching for us.”Alisaie’s expression hardened as she pulled Aldra closer into her arms, holding her like a sister would shield a younger sibling. But beneath her calm determination, she could already sense the ripple of power creeping toward them, the oppressive weight of Y’shtola’s spell tightening like a net.Aldra closed her eyes, her hand trembling as it hovered in the air again, caught between resisting and surrendering. Her mind clung to Alisaie’s words, but her body pulsed with the memory of Y’shtola’s claim.And deep within the Relict, Y’shtola’s lips curved into a smile that did not reach her eyes. She could feel it, the tug of Aldra’s heart straining against its own resistance. The first crack had appeared, and she intended to tear it wide open.
The room in Gridania shuddered as an unseen force tore through it, scattering books from the shelves and sending loose pages fluttering like frantic wings. Aldra sat frozen on the bed, silver-blue hair falling across her face, her hands clutching at the sheets as her chest heaved.Alisaie had only a heartbeat to react, her grip still firm on Aldra’s arm, before the spell surged. A sudden flash of sigils wrapped around her, brilliant and merciless, pulling her backward as though the air itself had turned into a riptide.“Aldra!” Alisaie shouted, her voice straining as she reached out. Her fingers slipped through Aldra’s grasp, the spell dragging her away in a rush of light. Then, with a deafening crack, she was gone, ripped from the room, carried across realms to Old Sharlayan.The silence that followed was crushing. The only evidence of what had happened were the scattered books, overturned chairs, and Aldra’s trembling hands, still half-extended toward the space Alisaie had occupied a moment ago.Her heart hammered in her chest, torn between dread and longing. Y’shtola’s spell had found them. Alisaie was gone. And Aldra, left alone in the chaos, could only sit in shock, her body aching with the pull of Y’shtola’s power, her mind screaming against it, unsure what she should do next.
The light consumed her, violent and unyielding, dragging her through the veil between realms. She fought against it, but the spell was Y’shtola’s, crafted with precision and intent, and resistance was useless.When the brilliance receded, Alisaie staggered, boots scraping against familiar stone. She gasped, heart racing, as she realized where she had been cast: Old Sharlayan. The air was thick with the scent of salt and parchment, the muffled hum of scholarly life echoing beyond the quiet plaza.Her fists clenched. Rage and worry warred within her as she steadied herself. Damn it… she planned this. Y’shtola had torn her away, not to destroy her, but to remove her from Aldra’s side. The thought cut deeper than any blade. Aldra was alone now, left vulnerable, and Alisaie’s only thought was how to break free of this forced exile and return to her, before it was too late.Back in the rented chamber, the spell’s echo lingered like a storm after lightning. The air was sharp with the scent of scorched magic, books tossed in wild disarray, and Aldra sat rigid on the bed. Her silver-blue tail flicked anxiously against the sheets, her dragon horns catching the glow of the lantern as she stared at the empty space where Alisaie had stood.Her chest ached, her body trembling with a confusion she could not untangle. She wanted to scream, to run, to call Alisaie back, but instead she sat frozen, as though her will had been bound as tightly as Alisaie’s fate.Deep inside, the pull returned, an ache that whispered Y’shtola’s name, that urged her to yield, to let herself be guided back into those arms no matter the cost. Her mind recoiled, fighting to cling to Alisaie’s warnings. But her body… her body betrayed her, craving the warmth, the touch, the voice that had wrapped around her heart.The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. Aldra’s hands hovered, trembling in indecision, while her thoughts twisted: Was this truly love… or something darker that I cannot resist?
Far away, in the depths of Matoya’s Relict, Y’shtola felt the pulse of her spell strike true. She closed her eyes, lips curling with satisfaction as the faint tether of her magic snapped taut, confirming Alisaie’s displacement. One obstacle removed. One step closer.Her hands rested over the open tomes spread across the stone table, the sigils she had crafted glowing faintly beneath her fingertips. Every line of the spell was a promise, every syllable inked in the certainty that Aldra would soon be hers completely. A bond unbreakable, mind and heart alike bound until refusal would no longer even exist.And yet… there was silence where Aldra should have been. The spell that had snatched Alisaie had not marked Aldra’s place. She was hidden from her still, like a star behind storm clouds. But Y’shtola’s obsession thrived on such challenge. The Relict became her sanctuary, her forge, as she vowed to craft the final key that would ensure Aldra could never escape her again.Back in the dim room in Gridania, Aldra sat trembling, her chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. The silence left by Alisaie’s absence pressed heavily on her. The scent of magic still lingered in the air, sharp and acrid, a reminder of how quickly she had been left alone.And in that silence, the ache returned, demanding, insistent. Her body burned with a longing she did not understand, a need Y’shtola’s voice had planted deep inside her. She fought it, gripping the sheets until her knuckles whitened, shaking her head as though she could banish the craving by sheer will.But resistance crumbled. Against her own mind’s protest, her body reached for release, guided not by reason but by memory of whispered words, by the phantom warmth of Y’shtola’s presence. Each shuddered breath deepened her shame and confusion, her hand hovering, faltering, then betraying her.When at last she stilled, drained and shaken, her thoughts tangled like broken threads. Was this love, or was she already too far gone, shackled to the hunger Y’shtola had left within her?And though she did not know it, Y’shtola’s obsession had not yet found her, only waited, patient and resolute, for the moment Aldra would be led into her arms once more.
The scattered books still littered the floor while some floated in the air, remnants of Y’shtola’s spell, but Aldra hardly noticed. She sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed, breath unsteady. The echo of Alisaie’s sudden disappearance clung to the air, but it was not grief that bound her still, it was the terrible yearning left behind.Every word Y’shtola had ever whispered seemed to breathe against her ear, pressing her, tempting her. She tried to resist, tried to will her trembling body into stillness. But as the moments dragged on, her resistance faltered. Her body moved almost of its own accord, betraying the desperate hunger she had denied. She gave in, hesitant, unwilling in thought, but powerless in flesh.When at last the storm of need subsided, Aldra remained motionless, shaken. Her hands fell still, shame burning in her chest, yet the craving did not fade. Instead, it lingered, stronger than before, leaving her to realize with dread that she was already bound more tightly to Y’shtola than she could bear to admit.Far from Gridania, deep within the stone chambers of the Relict, Y’shtola traced the edge of her completed sigil. Her lips curved faintly, though no sound reached her throat. A ripple, intangible but undeniable, passed through her, stirring the very marrow of her bones.She closed her eyes, breathing it in. Aldra. Somewhere, unseen, the princess had yielded. The bond she had labored to forge was no longer theory or spellwork, it was alive, pulsing, responding.A quiet satisfaction unfurled within her, mingling with the darker certainty that fate itself had begun to weave them together. Though she did not yet know where Aldra was hidden, she could feel it: the dragon’s heart had taken its first step into her snare.And she would not allow Alisaie, or anyone, to sever it.
Dawn crept across Gridania, its soft light doing little to ease Aldra’s unrest. Sleep had brought no peace, only more whispers of Y’shtola’s voice echoing in her dreams, binding her tighter. She rose from the bed with heavy limbs, her mind torn between reason and craving.Alisaie was gone, whisked away by Y’shtola’s spell, and the silence left Aldra unbearably exposed. Her instincts screamed that staying here would be her undoing. She needed distance, a place where Y’shtola’s gaze could not so easily find her.Her thoughts drifted to Limsa Lominsa, the bustling port, the roar of tavern laughter, the comforting anonymity of crowds. There, in the shadows of the familiar tavern whose owner she trusted, she might carve out a fragile sanctuary. Yet even as she resolved to go, dread knotted her chest. Every step closer to the sea would bring her closer to risk, for Y’shtola’s reach was vast and her obsession unrelenting.Still, she gathered her cloak and steadied herself. To linger was to surrender. To move was to gamble with her freedom. And so, trembling but resolute, Aldra turned her eyes west, toward the sea, toward Limsa, toward the slim hope that she might yet escape the chains wound so tightly around her heart.At the Relict’s heart, Y’shtola’s hands hovered over the glowing sigils, her eyes alight with quiet fervor. She felt the faintest ripple again, like a thread tugging at her from afar. Aldra was moving. She could sense it, not where, not yet, but the bond was alive, pulling taut as if yearning to lead her straight to its source.A smile ghosted across her lips, though her gaze was cold, calculating. The spell was complete, the groundwork laid. All that remained was opportunity.She whispered softly into the still air, as though Aldra could hear her through the distance:
“You can run, my heart. But the further you go, the closer you bind yourself to me. And when the moment comes, you will not resist, I will have you, wholly and forever.”With measured grace, she closed her grimoire and began to prepare. No longer content to wait, she would hunt. And when she found Aldra, no tavern, no friend, no sisterly shield would stand between them.
The forest paths of the North Shroud gave way to open plains, and still Aldra pressed forward. Each step carried her farther from Gridania, farther from the place where Alisaie’s last words had tried to anchor her. Yet the words fought with the ache in her chest, that gnawing hunger she could not silence.The roads south were busy with traders and travelers, but to Aldra they seemed distant, blurred figures in a world she no longer felt part of. When she reached the gates of Ul’dah, the heat of Thanalan pressed down on her like a weight, sweat clinging to her skin. She pulled her cloak tighter, as though the fabric could shield her from the phantom warmth that haunted her body, Y’shtola’s presence lingering in her veins no matter how far she ran.Through the streets of Ul’dah she moved quickly, the clamor of merchants and the laughter of children sharp in her ears, almost cruel in their normalcy. She longed to lose herself in their noise, but instead her thoughts turned inward. Every quiet corner, every shadow, seemed to echo with the memory of whispered promises.By the time the sun began to set, Aldra reached the road westward toward Vesper Bay. The desert wind stung her skin, tugging at her cloak and hair. Her fox-dragon tail flicked restlessly behind her, betraying the unease she tried to hide. Each mile closer to the sea was meant to be a mile closer to safety, but instead it felt as though she was drawing tighter into the circle Y’shtola had woven around her heart.When at last she saw the waters of Vesper Bay glittering under the moonlight, a fragile relief stirred in her. The small port town bustled even at night, its piers alive with ships preparing for voyages across the sea. Tomorrow she would board one bound for Limsa Lominsa, where the tavern keeper she trusted might give her sanctuary.Yet as she lay in the quiet of a rented room that night, Aldra could not rest. Her body betrayed her, trembling with want, her heart thundering with confusion. Alisaie’s warnings clashed with her craving, leaving her hovering in a torment she could neither escape nor fully embrace. She curled on the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling, whispering a question to herself she dared not answer:Do I run to freedom… or do I run from the one I love?Deep within the Relict, Y’shtola’s preparations neared their end. She could not see Aldra’s path, but the bond between them pulsed like a distant heartbeat, quickening as though with travel. She tilted her head, eyes gleaming in the dim glow of her spellwork.“Farther west,” she murmured, tracing a fingertip over the edge of a glowing sigil. “You move toward the sea.”There was no concern in her voice, only certainty. Each step Aldra took, whether through forest, desert, or across the waves, only tightened the invisible cord that bound them together. Y’shtola’s obsession was no longer content with whispers and dreams. Soon, she would act.She closed her eyes and let the sensation of Aldra’s unrest wash over her. The dragon princess’s confusion was almost sweet, ripe for the claiming. Y’shtola’s lips curved into a faint smile.“Run, little one. I will always be waiting, no matter where you go.”
The morning sun broke over Vesper Bay as Aldra boarded the small vessel bound for Limsa Lominsa. The sea air was bracing, sharp with salt, and for a fleeting moment it felt like freedom. She gripped the railing as the boat pulled away from the dock, watching the shoreline of Thanalan shrink into the distance.But the farther she went, the more the vast expanse of ocean seemed to mirror her heart: endless, restless, and uncertain. The waves rocked the vessel gently, yet every crest and trough carried the rhythm of a memory she could not cast aside. She closed her eyes, but Y’shtola’s voice lingered in her thoughts, soft, commanding, inescapable.She tried to steady her breathing, to focus on the horizon where Limsa’s cliffs would soon rise, yet her body betrayed her. A subtle tremor ran through her, her hands tightening against the railing until her knuckles ached. The craving gnawed, a hollow ache that no distance could soothe. She nearly cursed herself for the weakness, but the whisper of her name in memory, Aldra, Aldra, was enough to unmake her resolve.Other passengers laughed and spoke of trade, of families waiting, of fresh opportunities across the sea. Their lives seemed light, untouched by shadows. Aldra envied them, wished she could step into their simplicity. But she knew, hers was a journey not of choice, but of escape.When the mists parted and Limsa Lominsa’s towering white arches emerged from the horizon, Aldra’s heart beat faster. Relief, yes, but also dread. She knew the tavern’s keeper, an old ally, would shelter her. Yet safety felt fragile, temporary. Even here, on the open sea, Y’shtola’s presence burned in her veins like a brand.She whispered to herself, low enough that none around her could hear:If I make it to Limsa, will I finally be free… or will she already be waiting?In the depths of the Relict, Y’shtola opened her eyes with sudden clarity. A ripple had passed along the tether between her and Aldra, movement westward, across the sea. She smiled faintly, lips curving with quiet triumph.“The waters cannot keep you from me,” she whispered. “They will only carry you closer.”Before her, the sigils pulsed with a steady glow. The left, the promise of transformation. The center, the bond of heart. The right, the ache of longing that was already blossoming within Aldra. Y’shtola’s fingers brushed across the air above them, as though caressing Aldra herself from afar.She did not rush. She would not chase blindly. Instead, she refined, sharpened, perfected the spell that would not only reclaim Aldra but bind her utterly, body and soul.“Run to the ends of the world if you must,” she said softly, her voice echoing against the stone walls. “Every step you take will only lead you back to me.”
The sound of gulls and crashing waves filled Aldra’s ears as the ship drew into Limsa Lominsa’s harbor. The city sprawled above her, white stone bridges and towers crisscrossing against the brilliant sky, alive with sailors, merchants, and adventurers. To most, Limsa was a place of opportunity. To Aldra, it was a refuge, fragile and temporary though it might be.Pulling her cloak tighter, she wove through the bustling streets, silver-blue tail swishing with each cautious step. Her horns caught the sun, though she ducked her head low, unwilling to draw eyes. Every footfall echoed with tension, every turn of the crowd a reminder of how easily she might be found.At last, the familiar smell of roasted meats and spiced rum drifted toward her. The tavern, the Drowning Wench, was just ahead. As she slipped inside, the noise of the harbor gave way to warm laughter, clinking mugs, and sea-shanties sung too loud.“By the Twelve, Aldra,” the tavernkeeper whispered upon seeing her. His eyes widened, then softened with recognition. “It’s been years, girl. You’re safe here. Sit yourself down before anyone asks questions.”Aldra nodded faintly, settling into a shadowed corner. Her heart beat in her throat, her hands trembling as she clasped them together. The craving still lingered, an invisible chain around her body, pulling her mind into dangerous waters. She longed for relief, for peace, but Alisaie’s voice, gentle, steady, echoed in memory, urging her to resist, to endure.She leaned back, closing her eyes. Just a little longer, she told herself. I must hold on, even if my body betrays me.Elsewhere, Limsa bustled as Y’shtola descended from the upper decks, her robes flowing with each measured step. She moved like a shadow amid the chaos of sailors and merchants, her gaze sharp as it scanned the streets.She had come to review reports, matters of arcane disruption in the region, rumors of anomalies that might prove useful. Yet her heart beat quicker than her mind could rationalize. Something about Limsa tugged at her, a whisper of a presence she could not name but could feel in her bones.Pausing upon a bridge that overlooked the harbor, she gazed at the ebb and flow of the crowd. Her eyes narrowed, suspicion sharpening.You’re close, she thought, though she did not know to whom the words were spoken. I can feel it… but the veil between us hides you well.Unaware that just below her feet, within the tavern’s walls, Aldra sat cloaked in shadow, Y’shtola turned her focus back to her purpose. She would gather information, sharpen her new spell, and wait for the perfect moment.But her lips curled in a faint smile as she stepped into the market square.“Even if I cannot see you,” she murmured, “I will find you. I always do.”
The tavern roared with laughter and clinking mugs, yet Aldra’s gaze drifted toward the open entrance to the tavern beside her seat. She adjusted her chair just slightly to the right so she could see the path to the harbor streets.And there she was.Y’shtola.Her silver hair caught the sunlight as she walked across the stone bridge above, every motion precise, her robes swaying with deliberate grace. Even at a distance, Aldra felt the weight of her presence, as though invisible threads tugged against her heart. Her body stirred, a tremor of longing coiling through her chest, whispering to abandon her fears and run to her.But Alisaie’s voice still lingered in her ears, reminding her of truths she dared not forget. Aldra pressed her hand against her sternum, as if to hold herself still, as if the pressure might cage her trembling heart.She bit her lip, whispering to herself:
“Why do I still want her… even now?”Her silver-blue tail flicked against the bench, restless, betraying her inner conflict. For every moment she resisted, her body grew heavier with craving, her resolve thinner, her breath uneven.Y’shtola paused mid-step, her feline ears twitching faintly. She turned her head toward the tavern, eyes narrowing as though something, someone, had brushed against her senses. The crowds pressed around her, but she felt the pulse of familiarity close, like the faint glow of a hidden flame.She lingered, scanning the tavern door, as she lifts her staff as she slowly charges a spell to scan the tavern, but decides to stop, as she would get her dragon princess later.Are you here, Aldra?The thought slipped unbidden, threaded with both tenderness and hunger. She could not see through the walls, could not know for certain, but her obsession whispered that fate itself was drawing them together once more.A faint smile curved her lips. She turned away, continuing toward the market, deciding to bide her time. But the tension in her heart sang with certainty: Aldra was near.As Y’shtola’s form disappeared into the throng of the city, Aldra adjusted her chair back to its original place, her hands shaking. Relief washed over her, but it was cold and hollow. She exhaled slowly, yet her chest still ached with the phantom pull.“I can’t keep this up,” she whispered, her voice breaking.Every step of Y’shtola’s walk had nearly undone her. If Y’shtola had looked just once toward the tavern, Aldra knew she would have run, whether into her arms or away, she could not say.But for now, the tavern’s walls held her safe. For now.
The moment Aldra saw Y’shtola shift her path toward the tavern, her breath caught in her throat. The easy sway of her robes, the unhurried but deliberate pace, it was not chance. Y’shtola’s eyes hadn’t met hers, but Aldra felt it deep in her bones: she was being hunted.Her pulse hammered. She turned sharply from the window, nearly stumbling over her own tail, and hurried to the counter where the tavern’s owner was polishing mugs.“Please,” Aldra whispered, leaning forward, her voice trembling. “Do you still have that spare room upstairs? Somewhere away from the eyes in the street. I… I need to stay hidden.”The owner blinked, startled by the urgency in her tone, but nodded slowly. “Aye, there’s a room. Small, but no one will bother you there.”Relief hit Aldra like a rush of air, but it was laced with dread. She glanced once more toward the door. The heavy wood seemed to breathe, as though Y’shtola’s shadow already stretched across its threshold.Outside, Y’shtola slowed, pausing at the tavern’s entrance. Her hand lingered against the frame of the door, her gaze sweeping the harbor as though ensuring no one followed her. Then her eyes lowered to the tavern sign, lips curving faintly.She felt it, faint as the brush of a dream, Aldra’s presence. Close. Too close to deny.A flicker of warmth crossed her face, but beneath it lay something darker, simmering, certain. She cannot hide from me. Not for long.She stepped inside.The creak of the tavern door below made Aldra’s blood run cold. The owner quickly ushered her to the narrow staircase, and Aldra ascended with hurried, unsteady steps, every plank groaning beneath her weight sounding louder than thunder.In the small spare room, with its shuttered window and single bed, she pressed her back against the wall and covered her mouth to stifle her breathing.Her body betrayed her with every trembling heartbeat. Even now, with fear tightening around her chest, there was that gnawing, traitorous longing, for Y’shtola’s voice, her touch, the spell that had bound her body to desire.She shook her head violently, whispering, “Not now… not here…”But the craving remained, an ember smoldering inside her, even as she prayed Alisaie’s ship cut swifter through the waves.
In the cramped spare room, Aldra’s trembling fingers traced the familiar gestures of teleportation. The air around her shimmered, threads of aether spiraling upward like strands of silver-blue flame. Her draconian blood lent a dangerous edge to the spell, unstable, volatile, but strong enough to carry her far if she could hold her focus.Sweat beaded on her brow. Each whispered incantation clawed its way from her throat, heavy with urgency. I cannot stay. If she finds me here… if she touches me again…Her tail lashed once against the floor as the magic built, pressure coiling tight in the air like a storm about to break.Below, Y’shtola paused mid-step, her head tilting ever so slightly. Her eyes narrowed, pupils contracting to slits as she felt it, a ripple of aether, unmistakable and sharp. Not just any weave of spellcraft, but Aldra’s.The pulse of draconian energy sang through the timbers of the tavern, resonating in her bones like a song she knew too well. Her lips parted in the faintest of smiles, thin and predatory.“So… you would flee me?” she murmured softly, her voice a velvet threat. “You forget, Aldra… your power is the beacon that binds you to me.”Her fingers brushed against the edge of her staff, the temptation to unravel the spell before it could take shape already rising within her.The circle of light beneath her feet flared, illuminating the small room in silver fire. Aldra’s breath came ragged, her mind locked in a tug of war, fear screaming for her to vanish, while her body yearned to stay, to surrender to the woman whose shadow stretched across her heart.Her hand hovered midair, trembling, almost faltering as the thought struck her: What if she follows me wherever I go? What if I cannot run far enough?The spell strained at the edge of completion, fragile and bright as spun glass. One heartbeat more, and she would be gone, or undone.
The teleportation circle flared, swallowing the tiny room in light. Aldra forced every last drop of aether into the weave, her draconian energy surging wild and untamed. Her breath came ragged, silver-blue sparks bursting from her horns, her tail thrashing as the spell pressed toward completion.Her knees buckled beneath the strain. Too much, far too much, but she clung to it, teeth grit, whispering the final words of the incantation. Freedom was a heartbeat away.Below, Y’shtola lifted her hand, eyes gleaming with terrible precision. She did not need to break the spell; no, that would only waste Aldra’s desperation. Instead, her voice slipped into the weave like silk over steel, her will grafting itself onto the pattern of aether.A quiet incantation, delicate as a knife point:
“Not to safety… but to me.”The circle bent beneath her touch, its destination unraveling and reforming, redirected to the heart of Matoya’s Relict. To the trap she had carved into the stone itself, sigils already waiting to embrace their prey.Her lips curved, satisfied. Aldra’s own power would carry her straight into Y’shtola’s hands.The spell detonated inward, pulling her through a tunnel of light. Pain lanced her chest as her reserves emptied in an instant, the exhaustion gnawing deeper than bone. She tried to picture Limsa, the ocean spray, the hidden safety of the tavern…But the vision faltered. Something had shifted.Stone walls replaced the sea. Ancient glyphs burned beneath her feet, the familiar chill of the Relict seeping into her bones. Her body crumpled, the last of her strength spent, struggling to maintain consciousness.Eyes wide, Aldra realized too late: she had not escaped. She had been delivered.Already waiting in the gloom, Y’shtola’s silhouette loomed, patient as a hunter beside its snare. She watched Aldra collapse into the sigils, the circle responding to the dragon princess’s presence with a low hum of binding resonance.“You burn yourself to ash in running,” Y’shtola murmured, stepping closer, her voice almost tender. “But you were never meant to flee me. Not now. Not ever.”Her hand stretched forward, not in violence but in quiet possession, as though reclaiming something that had always been hers.
Y’shtola’s hand hovered above Aldra, a dark radiance pooling at her fingertip as the spell’s runes flared to life beneath the pillow. Exhausted, Aldra could only tremble in place, her body too weak to resist as the magic coiled through her veins. The aether wrapped around her like chains, heavy and inescapable.“At last, the chase is ended, my love. It was your quiet yearning that guided you into my arms, where you were always meant to be. You are the only desire my heart has ever known, the soul I swore to cherish and protect. Even if it means reshaping every part of you, until you are wholly, irrevocably mine.” Y'shtola exclaims, as she finishes her spell to put Aldra's mind into a blank haze, shattered for her to reshape slowly. While Aldra's body is already consumed by the desire and craving of Y'shtola's touch.Slowly, the first signs began to show. Aldra’s silver-blue hair shimmered unnaturally, the strands catching the dim light of the Relict before shifting, one by one, into a delicate silver-pink. Her fox-dragon tail twitched weakly against the floor, its colors bleeding from silver-blue into the same unnatural hue, as though the spell were rewriting her very essence.Her eyes, once a violet-pink, began to glow faintly with an eerie pink light. The change was slow, deliberate, each moment pulling her further away from herself and deeper into Y’shtola’s possession. A soft sound escaped Aldra’s lips, not of resistance, but of a heart torn between fear and longing.Y’shtola watched with unblinking intensity, her smile widening as the transformation progressed. To her, this was not cruel, but inevitable, Aldra becoming what she was always meant to be. As the spell reached its peak, the last of the runes flared, binding Aldra’s shifting form to Y’shtola’s will.With a final pulse of magic through her finger, Y’shtola lowered her hand, her smile one of quiet triumph. Aldra’s body still trembled, her consciousness frayed and fragile, yet her altered form stood as a reflection of the bond Y’shtola had forced upon her, an unbreakable tie hidden within beauty, and a claim only she could understand.
Aldra’s body gave way beneath the weight of the spell, her strength utterly drained. Her limbs trembled weakly before she finally collapsed, the last flickers of resistance fading from her weary frame. Y’shtola’s expression softened, not with pity, but with satisfaction, as she stooped and lifted Aldra with deliberate care, her magic lending strength to her arms.She carried Aldra across the chamber and lowered her onto a thick pillow set against the shelves, the sigils on the floor dimming now that their work was complete. As Aldra sank into the cushion, her body still quivering from exhaustion, she instinctively leaned toward the warmth beside her. Her silver-pink hair brushed against Y’shtola’s shoulder as her head found its place there, as though it had always belonged.Y’shtola let her rest, her hand idly brushing a loose strand of hair from Aldra’s face, her eyes gleaming with a quiet triumph. To her, the moment was perfect: Aldra too weak to resist, too torn to pull away, yet choosing, even unconsciously, to lean into her. It was a vision of the future Y’shtola had sought all along, Aldra bound not only by spell but by the fragile trust and longing nestled deep in her heart.Y’shtola’s lips curved into a small smile as she gazed down at her, the Relict silent save for the sound of Aldra’s uneven breaths. To her, this was not the end, but the beginning. The spell had claimed its place; now it was only a matter of time before Aldra’s heart accepted what Y’shtola had always believed inevitable.
Aldra’s breaths came shallow and uneven, her body trembling as her consciousness wavered on the edge of sleep. The spell’s weight pressed heavy on her, but beneath it pulsed something raw, an ache deeper than exhaustion. Her head rested against Y’shtola’s shoulder, silver-pink strands falling across her face, her lips barely parting as though even speaking demanded more strength than she had left.At first, it was only a faint whisper, fragile and half-lost in the stillness of the Relict. But Y’shtola’s ears caught it, her senses sharpened by both instinct and obsession.“…I… love you…”The words slipped from Aldra like a secret torn from her very soul, unguarded and unplanned, carried on a sigh as though she had meant to keep it buried but could no longer hold it in. Her body remained limp, her eyes closed, yet her voice carried the truth of a heart she had been too afraid, or too conflicted, to voice until now.Y’shtola froze, her silver eyes widening as her breath caught in her chest. For all her scheming, for all the careful threads of magic and manipulation she had woven, she had never expected to hear those words fall so freely, so vulnerably, from Aldra’s lips. A slow, deliberate smile curved across her face, equal parts tender and triumphant.She brushed her fingers lightly through Aldra’s hair, savoring the moment, her heart beating with a dangerous joy. “So, you do belong to me,” she murmured softly, her voice silk and steel, though she knew Aldra was far too deep in her exhaustion to hear it.But Y’shtola heard enough for them both.
Y’shtola sat utterly still for a heartbeat, Aldra’s whispered confession echoing in her mind like a chime in the silence of the Relict. The words replayed again and again, each repetition feeding the fire that already burned within her. She tightened her hold on Aldra ever so slightly, cradling her as though she were the most delicate of treasures, precious, irreplaceable, and now, hers.Her silver eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, and her lips curved into a smile that was both tender and dangerous. “You love me,” she breathed, her voice a low murmur meant only for Aldra, though the exhausted elf could not respond. “And that is all I needed. No spell, no force, no manipulation could bind you so tightly as those words.”Her fingers combed gently through Aldra’s silken hair, caressing the strands now tinged with the pink sheen of her completed spell. To Y’shtola, it was no longer just magic changing Aldra’s form, it was love itself taking shape, proof that the two of them were intertwined by more than obsession.Leaning close, Y’shtola pressed her lips near Aldra’s ear, her voice smooth as velvet yet sharp as a vow. “You are mine, Aldra. Not because I ensnared you, but because you chose me. That is what makes this bond unbreakable. And I will never let you go, not to Alisaie, not to fate, not to anyone.”She drew Aldra closer, letting her rest peacefully against her. Inwardly, though, her mind whirled with calculation and resolve. The confession had changed everything. No longer was she simply seizing what she desired—she now had justification, the proof that Aldra’s heart already beat for her. And so, Y’shtola vowed in the quiet of Matoya’s Relict, that nothing, no spell, no interference, no rival, would take Aldra from her again.
Aldra’s body felt heavy, her limbs refusing to obey as though they belonged to someone else. The exhaustion of the spell and the turmoil of her flight pressed her deeper into Y’shtola’s embrace, yet her mind still lingered at the threshold of waking and dreaming. Her head rested on Y’shtola’s shoulder, and though she could not lift it, her thoughts stirred like ripples over water.Why… why do I feel safer here? she wondered, even as she recalled Alisaie’s words warning her of Y’shtola’s obsession. Fear and longing collided inside her chest, but with every faint rise and fall of Y’shtola’s breathing beside her, another truth tugged to the surface. She remembered nights spent with Y’shtola’s voice filling her thoughts, remembered the spell that made her body crave her touch, and yet, beneath all of that, something purer remained.Her lips parted unconsciously, words slipping out like a secret never meant to be spoken. “I… love you…” The whisper was nearly lost in the stillness, but it carried the weight of something buried deep, now dragged into the open.Inwardly, Aldra recoiled at her own admission. Did I mean that? Or was it the spell pulling at me again? Her heart hammered, the confusion between desire and genuine love clouding her thoughts. But as her vision blurred and her body gave in to rest, another whisper from within her answered: No… I’ve always loved her. Since the first day.Yet even as she surrendered to sleep, unease curled in her chest. If her heart truly belonged to Y’shtola, then why did Alisaie’s warnings still echo in her ears, sharp as a blade pressed to her soul?
