Chapter 15 – Draven's POV
The girl who stood in fire now trembled like a wounded thing.
The fire died like it had never existed.
Not with smoke. Not with ash.
Just silence.
Scarlet dropped to her knees.
No scream. No resistance. Just… collapse. Like something ancient had slipped out of her bones and left nothing behind.
I caught her before she could hit the stone.
Her skin pulsed like heat lightning. Her breath came in short bursts, and her head tipped downward like she couldn't hold it up anymore. Like her body forgot it belonged to her.
And then she blinked.
Slow. Confused.
"…Draven?"
Her voice was small.
Too small.
Too normal.
Her eyes — one golden-silver, one black with a ring of blue — stared straight through me.
Empty.
She didn't even realize.
"She's blind," I whispered.
That's when Dexter moved.
His fingers curled midair, silver static already crackling around his hands. He didn't ask permission. He didn't need to.
He projected it.
All of it.
Everything I saw, everything she said, everything the fire burned into our bones.
He pushed the memory into their heads like a flood.
Devon gasped first, stumbling back. Damian swore under his breath, fists clenched like he needed to hit something that didn't exist. Dexter's eyes remained fixed on Scarlet, as if trying to decode the silence she left behind.
But the worst reaction wasn't theirs.
It was hers.
The healer.
She had stayed quiet the whole time — watching from the edge of the seal. But now, her hands were trembling. Her mouth slightly open. No magic casting, no movement. Just fear.
Not at what Scarlet had done.
At what it meant.
I turned to her sharply. "What do you know?"
She flinched.
Devon caught it too. "Why are you shaking?"
"I— I'm not," she lied. "That was just… intense. Her aura—"
"She's had worse," Dexter interrupted. "You didn't even flinch during the last blood rupture from the Rift Boy. This… scared you."
The healer didn't speak.
Damian narrowed his eyes. "You've seen this before."
Something cracked in her then.
She looked past us — straight at Scarlet, still curled weakly against my chest — and her lips parted, whispering something brittle.
"She wasn't supposed to survive."
Silence fell like frost.
And then Scarlet's body jerked.
Not in power. Not in rage.
In confusion.
"…What's happening?" she murmured.
She tried to lift her head again, this time shakier. Her arms weak. Her fingers twitching against my jacket like a blind thing reaching for something real.
She blinked again. Harder.
"…Why can't I see?"
Her voice splintered.
Devon moved toward her instantly, but I held up a hand. Not to stop him — to steady myself.
Scarlet's confusion wasn't faked.
She didn't remember.
Or she did — but not all at once.
Panic began to rise in her body like a tide.
"Draven, I—I can't see. I don't—what's wrong with me?" Her voice was rising now. "Why is everything dark? Why is—what happened to me?"
"Hey," I whispered, tightening my grip. "You're okay. Just… breathe."
She shook her head. "No. No, I was standing—there was fire. And something was speaking. Or I was speaking? I don't—" Her voice cracked. "What's wrong with me?!"
"She's not broken," the healer said suddenly. "She's shifting."
We all turned.
Her voice was different now. Not afraid. Not hiding. Just tired. Knowing.
"She's activating," the healer said. "Too soon. Too violently. But it's started."
Dexter narrowed his eyes. "Activating what?"
The healer stared at Scarlet. Her voice softened, almost like awe. "The first dragon."
Silence again.
"…You mean that figuratively," Damian said flatly.
"I don't," the healer replied. "I mean it exactly."
She stepped forward, cautiously, hands up like she was approaching a flame that hadn't decided whether to burn her yet.
"Her blindness isn't a side effect. It's a requirement."
Devon's brow creased. "What are you talking about?"
"She's unlocking Syraen," the healer said. "The first dragon sealed inside her. The one that doesn't see through sight — it sees through energy. Through movement. Through fate."
Dexter went still. "Like me."
She nodded. "Syraen is the Seer Dragon. It mirrors your ability — your sightline magic. Your temporal echoes. But unlike you, Scarlet has to earn that power by losing the one thing she's relied on her entire life."
"Her vision," I muttered.
"She must learn to survive without it. Not just physically — spiritually. Syraen is not a beast you tame. It's a force you become. Until she embraces that darkness, it won't answer her. And if she resists it too long…"
She hesitated.
"She'll burn."
Scarlet made a soft sound. Almost a whimper.
"She doesn't know what any of that means," Devon said quietly.
"She's not supposed to," the healer said. "Not yet."
Dexter crossed his arms. "So this is all part of some locked sequence?"
The healer finally looked at all of us, her voice grim.
"There are four dragons. One for each of you. One she has to unlock by surviving your energy. Syraen is the first — yours, Dexter. The second will awaken when she bonds deeper with another of you. And so on."
"And if she fails?" I asked.
"She doesn't get another chance," the healer answered. "These dragons weren't given. They were sealed inside her because no one else could hold them. If she rejects one, they all collapse."
Scarlet whimpered again.
Not loud.
But heartbreaking.
And it hit me, right then, like thunder between my ribs:
This wasn't about power.
It wasn't even about prophecy.
It was about teaching her how to live in the dark — so she could finally see what no one else could.
So she could become what no one else could survive.