The chamber was too quiet.
Too quiet, and too cold.
Frost crawled along the stone floor like a living thing, each crystalline vein catching the dim light of the sconces until the whole room seemed like it was stitched together with threads of ice.
At the center sat Arlo, perched on the edge of a chair that felt far too regal for him, his back stiff, hands clasped together to keep them from trembling.
He could hear the frantic thrum of his own heartbeat louder than any sound in the chamber.
Across from him, lounging as if this were no more than a casual evening by the fire, was her.
The Queen.
The Ice Dragon Monarch.
Her human form was deceptively delicate.
She sat with perfect posture in a chair carved from ivory, her silver hair spilling over one shoulder like liquid moonlight, her expression unreadable save for the faintest curve of her lips.
That smile—it wasn't warm, it wasn't even cold—it was wicked, like the smirk of someone about to peel back the layers of a game only she knew the rules to.
When she finally spoke, her voice rang in Arlo's mind, smooth as frost sliding across glass.
"You will have three tries, little human. Three. To tell me who you are, and how you found yourself inside my vault."
She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against her fingers. "Choose your words wisely. Fail, and… well." Her smile sharpened. "I haven't decided what I'll do with you yet."
The weight of her aura pressed against his chest, making it hard to breathe.
Arlo tried to swallow but his throat was bone-dry.
Three tries. That was it.
He had never felt so aware of how utterly fragile his life was.
"Alright, alright, no need to be dramatic," Arlo muttered under his breath, though the tremor in his voice gave him away. He tried to force a grin that was more teeth than courage.
"I… uh… I don't know how I got here. I swear! I just wandered through an unknown path and ended up surrounded by all that gold and, ta-da, here I am. Wrong place, wrong time." He gave a nervous shrug. "Total accident. Happens all the time, right?"
The Queen didn't blink.
For a long, awful moment, she simply stared at him.
Then the pressure increased.
It was like an invisible hand shoving him down into his chair, like frost layering inside his lungs.
Arlo gagged and gritted his teeth, his forced smile shattering.
"You expect me," she said softly, "to believe that a human—weak, brittle, insignificant—just… wandered into the deepest chamber of my vault? Through wards that could kill lesser dragons?"
Arlo opened his mouth, but the glare in her eyes silenced him before he could force out another excuse.
Her smile widened by a fraction. "That was your first try."
Sweat trickled down the side of his face despite the freezing air.
His thoughts raced. 'Think, Arlo, THINK. You can't just keep blurting stupid excuses. She's not dumb. She's a goddamn dragon.'
He drew in a shaky breath. "Fine. Not an accident. It was… a ritual."
The Queen tilted her head ever so slightly.
"Yeah," he pressed on quickly, words tumbling over themselves, "a summoning ritual! Some crazy mage must've dragged me here for, I don't know, human sacrifice or whatever. I didn't ask to be dragged into this!" He gestured helplessly at the frozen walls around them. "One moment I was at home, and the next thing I know I'm surrounded by coins and your charming glare."
He tried to hold her gaze.
Tried.
Her eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in amusement.
The kind of amusement that said she was peeling him apart piece by piece, like watching a beetle squirm under glass.
"A ritual." She let the words linger in the air, tasting them, savoring them. "How curious. And tell me—what mage do you suppose has the power to bypass my wards, human? To place you, undetected, at my side?"
Arlo's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No words came out.
"Thought so." Her smile grew cold. "That was your second try."
His chest rose and fell too fast now, breath fogging in the air.
His palms were slick with sweat, knees pressed tight together to keep them from shaking visibly.
'One left. One left and then she'll freeze me or eat me or—damn it, I don't even know how dragons kill their prey but I'm about to find out.'
Silence stretched.
She didn't push him to speak.
She didn't rush him.
She simply watched, the way a predator waits for a cornered animal to realize there is no escape.
Arlo's mind spiraled.
Lies wouldn't work.
She wasn't buying it, not for a second. If he tried another, he'd be dead.
So… he had to twist the truth. Enough of it to sound sincere, but vague enough not to expose himself completely.
His hands tightened into fists.
Then, with a rough exhale, he finally lifted his gaze.
"Fine," he said hoarsely. "I don't know why I'm here. I don't even know how. All I know is I was somewhere else, and then suddenly I was in that vault." His voice steadied as he forced himself to continue. "I'm not strong, I'm not important, but I do know this—I had nothing on me that could break through dragon defenses. If I was placed there, it wasn't by me."
The words hung in the cold air.
For the first time, she didn't immediately reply.
Instead, the oppressive weight around him lessened, just slightly.
He could breathe again.
The Queen studied him in silence, eyes flickering over his face as though reading every twitch, every nervous gulp.
The smile never left her lips, but it no longer felt mocking.
It felt… contemplative.
At last, she leaned back in her chair, folding one leg over the other with graceful precision.
Her aura withdrew enough for him to slump forward, gasping air into his burning lungs.
"Very well," she murmured.
And that was it.
Two words.
But those two words kept Arlo alive.
For now.
His head hung low, his entire body trembling from the tension.
He couldn't tell if she believed him, or if she was simply letting the game continue because she was curious what he'd do next.
Either way, he was still breathing.