Seraphina's POV
The guards are laughing at me again.
I can hear them outside my cell door, placing bets on how I'll die today. Beheading? Burning? Maybe they'll get creative and try drowning me in dragon fire this time.
My body still aches from yesterday's execution. They threw me off the tallest tower in the palace. I remember the wind rushing past my face, the ground getting closer and closer. I remember the crack when I hit the stones. Then nothing. Just darkness.
When I woke up three hours later, every bone had healed. Every cut had closed. I was alive again, lying in this freezing cell with rats nibbling at my toes.
I've died eighteen times in the past month.
Today will be the nineteenth.
The cell door slams open, and three guards storm in. They're all massive dragon shifters who look at me like I'm a bug they want to crush. The biggest one—Marcus, I think his name is—grabs my arm so hard I feel the bone grind.
"Time to die again, witch," he spits in my face.
I don't fight. What's the point?
They drag me down the dark corridor. Other prisoners press against their bars to watch. Some spit at me as I pass. One old man makes a sign to ward off evil. They all hate me here. Everyone always hates me.
My bare feet scrape against the cold stone floor. The chains around my wrists burn with dragon fire magic—the only thing that actually hurts me. Silver lines of pain shoot up my arms with every step.
We climb the stairs to the throne room. I can already hear the crowd inside, excited voices echoing off the high ceiling. They love watching me die. It's become entertainment for them.
The doors swing open, and hundreds of eyes turn to stare at me.
The Dragon Court is packed today. Lords and ladies in their fancy clothes. Warriors with scars on their faces. Even children have been brought to watch. Everyone wants to see the witch who won't stay dead.
"The Deathless Witch!" someone shouts.
"Monster!" another voice calls out.
"Kill her!"
The guards push me forward, and I stumble. My knees hit the floor hard in front of the throne. The chains pull tight, forcing my head down. But even with my face toward the ground, I can feel his eyes on me.
King Draeven Nightflame.
The Dragon King who's been trying to kill me for thirty days.
"Look at me," his voice commands.
I've learned not to disobey. Slowly, I lift my head.
He sits on his black throne like a god of death. His golden eyes burn into mine—eyes that have watched me die over and over. His face shows nothing. No anger. No mercy. Just cold determination.
He's beautiful in a terrifying way. Dark hair. Strong jaw. The kind of handsome that makes you forget he's a monster. But I've learned that beautiful things are usually the most dangerous.
"Seraphina Ashborne," he says my name like a curse. "You have been sentenced to death for crimes against the dragon kingdom. Do you have any last words?"
I almost laugh. Last words? I said my last words seventeen executions ago.
But then I remember something, and the words slip out before I can stop them.
"Morganna said she was sorry."
King Draeven's eyes narrow. "What?"
"My coven leader. High Priestess Morganna." My voice cracks. "She hugged me before your guards took me. She whispered 'Forgive me, child.' I thought she was sad to see me go. But she wasn't sad. She was relieved."
I don't know why I'm telling him this. Maybe because I need someone to know. Even if that someone is the man about to kill me.
"She raised me for fifty years," I continue, and now I can't stop the words from pouring out. "She taught me magic. Braided my hair. Called me daughter. And then she sold me to you like I was cattle. Do you know what that feels like? To realize the only person who ever loved you was just pretending?"
Something flickers in King Draeven's eyes. For just a second, he almost looks... sad?
No. I'm imagining it.
He stands up from his throne, and the entire room goes silent. He's even taller than I remembered. His presence fills the whole space, making it hard to breathe.
"I don't care about your sad story, witch," he says, walking down the steps toward me. "Everyone has pain. Everyone has been betrayed. That doesn't change what you are."
"And what am I?" I ask, meeting his eyes even though it terrifies me.
"A mistake that needs to be corrected."
He stops right in front of me. Up close, I can see a scar on his neck. Old. Someone tried to kill him once too.
"Today, we use the Executioner's Blade," he announces to the crowd. "Forged from dragon bone and witch blood. It has never failed to kill."
The crowd cheers.
Two guards force me to my knees. I hear the executioner's heavy footsteps behind me. Metal scrapes against stone as he lifts the massive blade.
I close my eyes and think about all the people I've loved who died while I lived. My mother. My father. My little sister who was only six. My best friend who grew old while I stayed young. Seven generations of her family that I watched live and die.
Maybe this time, I'll finally get to see them again.
"Wait."
The word cuts through the noise like thunder.
My eyes fly open. King Draeven is staring at me with an expression I've never seen before. His hand is raised, stopping the executioner mid-swing.
"Your Majesty?" the executioner asks, confused.
King Draeven doesn't answer. He keeps staring at me, his golden eyes searching my face like he's looking for something. His jaw clenches. His hand trembles slightly.
Then he drops his hand.
"Proceed," he says.
The blade starts to fall.
But in that split second before metal meets skin, King Draeven does something that makes my heart stop.
He closes his eyes.
Like he can't watch.
The blade slices through my neck, and everything goes black.
When I wake up, I'm not in my cell.
I'm in a bedroom.
A beautiful bedroom with silk sheets and candles burning. My neck is fully healed. My chains are gone.
And sitting in a chair beside my bed, watching me with those burning golden eyes, is King Draeven.
"We need to talk," he says quietly. "Because I just figured out something impossible."
My heart pounds. "What?"
He leans forward, and his voice drops to a whisper that sends chills down my spine.
"You're not supposed to be an immortal witch at all. Someone cursed you." His eyes bore into mine. "And I think I know who did it."
Before I can ask what he means, the door explodes inward.
A woman in a black cloak stands in the doorway, her face hidden by shadows. But I recognize her voice immediately.
"Hello, my darling daughter," Morganna purrs. "Did you really think I'd let you escape your purpose?"
She raises her hand, and dark magic fills the room.
King Draeven moves to protect me, but it's too late.
Everything goes black again.
But this time, I don't think I'm coming back.