Ink's POV
There's a voice in my head.
It doesn't speak in words, not exactly.
It growls. Purrs. Laughs when I try to sleep.
Sometimes it sounds like fire.
Sometimes it sounds like me.
Other times — worse — it sounds like her.
Let go.
No more pretending.
We could take them all.
It started after the shift — after I burned through a room and nearly tore my father in half. They say I fainted. They say it was trauma, not transformation.
They're wrong.
The dragon didn't sleep.
It just started whispering.
I haven't left my room in two days.
Leah came once. She knocked. I didn't answer.
She waited.
I didn't move.
And now… she's stopped trying.
Part of me aches at that — the quiet, reliable weight of her gone — but another part feels lighter. Unmoored. Dangerous.
I should be afraid.
But I'm not.
I'm too angry.
Too full.
Too close to breaking again.
The note comes by raven. No signature. Just a blood-red wax seal.
"If they fear you, come to the one who doesn't."
— S.
Scarlett.
Of course.
I find her in the Scorpio tower — mid-level, velvet-draped, with lanterns glowing low like stars caught in jars. She's sitting on a chaise, a glass of obsidian wine in one hand, the other toying idly with a dagger.
She doesn't stand when I enter.
She smiles.
"Look who finally stopped trying to be good."
"Don't push me."
"Oh, dragon." Her eyes flick down my frame — not lustful, not curious. Calculating. "I wouldn't dream of it."
I don't sit. I don't trust myself to.
"The voice," I say.
She lifts a brow. "Ah. So she's speaking now?"
"She's not me."
"She is you," Scarlett says, swirling the wine. "The most honest part. The part that doesn't beg for love or ask for permission."
I swallow the burn in my throat. "She wants to destroy everything."
"Only what stands in your way."
I take a step forward. "You don't know what it feels like."
Scarlett finally rises — all grace, dark silk, and unbothered control.
"I know what it's like to be told your power must be trimmed, shaped, hidden. I know what it's like to be feared. To be reduced. To be told: you're too much."
Her voice softens, threads with poison.
"I know what it's like to want to burn everything down just to feel the heat of your own skin."
I want to hate her.
But I can't.
Because in that moment — she's the only person in Zodiana who feels like a mirror.
"What do you want from me?" I ask.
Scarlett moves close. Her hand comes up — gently brushing my jaw, slow enough to let me flinch.
I don't.
"I want to offer you a deal."
"No."
"You haven't heard it yet."
I stare at her. My chest is tight. My dragon coils beneath my ribs, listening.
Scarlett leans in.
"I can teach you how to silence the noise. To ride it. Own it. Control your shifts, your fire — everything. But only if you swear fealty. Not to Scorpio. Not to my father."
She presses a hand over my heart.
"To me."
My body goes still.
"That's the price," I whisper.
"That's the safety."
Her breath touches my lips.
"Serve me, Ink. And no one will ever control you again."
I should say no.
I should turn, walk away, find Leah, beg for reason, cling to what little softness I haven't scorched.
But the dragon is louder now.
And she's laughing.