Page 40 of Stolen By Dragons

A wistful smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Ah, the Renaissance. It was a time of such vibrant energy, such hope. The air was thick with possibility. I remember walking the streets of Florence, watching as Leonardo argued passionately about art with a friend, he was working on the Battle of Anghiari mural. The world felt... reborn."

“You knew Leonardo?” I gasped.

“Not deeply, he was a fascinating man with quite the artistic talent. I knew a vampire at the time who was smitten with him.”

“Wow, that’s crazy,” I breathed as he continued to recount his time in Florence.

As he spoke, I found myself studying his face, the way the firelight played across his features. He was beautiful in an otherworldly way, all sharp angles and pale skin. But it was the depth of emotion in his eyes that truly captivated me.

"You must have seen so much," I mused. "Does it ever get... overwhelming? All that history, all those memories?"

Ossian's expression sobered. "At times," he admitted. "The weight of centuries can be a heavy burden. But moments like these," he gestured between us, "conversations with someone who truly wants to understand... they make it bearable."

I felt a warmth bloom in my chest at his words, a flutter of something I wasn't quite ready to name. It was moments like these that made me feel guilty, remembering the heated kisses I'd shared with Chris, the growing connection between us.

Most days, Chris sought me out after training, wanting to spend time with me and get to know me, but we often found ourselves hanging with the group instead into the late hours, where we’d then part ways. The few days we’d wound up together, we’d shared close moments, more kisses. Our latest evening, things had gotten quite heavy with a full-blown make-out session, but alas, as if the universe was against us, there’d be a commotion in the hall as two werewolves butted heads and got into a brawl. Chris had gone out and helped break it up, and the moment was gone as tensions rose amongst the group.

Our daily training sessions had taken on a new intensity since the announcement of the Trial as well, which had taken all our focus. Not only were we honing our physical skills, but we were also delving deeper into the magical abilities that came with our Dracarian heritage.

It started small at first - tiny sparks of elemental energy that we could barely control. But as the days passed, those sparks grew into something more substantial. I watched with a mixture of awe and envy as my friends began to manifest their elemental powers.

Chris was the first to have a breakthrough. During a particularly grueling session, his frustration peaked, and suddenly, the ground beneath his feet trembled. Small rocks began to levitate around him, responding to his emotions. Earth magic, raw and powerful.

"Did you see that?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder. "I did that!"

Lydia was next. Her affinity turned out to be water. She could manipulate small amounts at first, creating shapes and patternsin the air. As her control grew, so did her power. Soon, she was able to pull moisture from the air itself, forming it into shields and weapons.

Zephyr, unsurprisingly, had an affinity for air. His natural fae magic seemed to blend seamlessly with this new ability, allowing him to create miniature whirlwinds and gusts of wind strong enough to knock an opponent off their feet.

Even the vampires showed elemental affinities, although all of them seemed to have an affinity for fire. Ossian was the only one capable of manifesting it from thin air, while all the others needed an open flame, which they could then wield and manipulate.

As for me... nothing. No matter how hard I concentrated, how deeply I reached for that well of power inside me, I couldn't manifest any elemental magic. I had the enhanced strength and speed that came with our Dracarian blood, but beyond that, my abilities remained frustratingly dormant.

"Don't worry, Aria," Elowen said during one session, her voice gentle but firm. "Everyone develops at their own pace. Your power will manifest when the time is right."

I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment. But as I watched Chris create a wall of stone with a wave of his hand, or Zephyr ride a self-created gust of wind, it was hard not to feel left behind.

One evening, after a particularly disheartening training session, I found myself unable to sleep. The frustration of my dormant magic, combined with the constant worry about the impending trial and my complicated feelings for both Chris and Ossian, left my mind racing.

Seeking solace, I made my way to the communal area, hoping to find Ossian there. I wanted to talk to him, to voice my fears and doubts. Perhaps his centuries of wisdom could offer some comfort or insight. Either that or he could offer me somedifferent guidance than what Chris and my friends had provided in their attempts to assist me. I was willing to give anything a shot.

The room was empty when I arrived, the soft blue glow of the fireplace casting long shadows across the floor. I settled into one of the plush armchairs, gazing out at the stunning landscape of Dracaria through the large windows.

Lost in thought, I didn't notice the figure approaching until it was too late.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

I looked up to see Marcus, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. He sauntered closer, a predatory grace in his movements.

"The animal blood bags they've given us taste terrible," he stated, his voice low and menacing. "I've been dying for the real thing. And here you are, all alone."

Crap. I tried to steel my expression as the fingers of danger snaked over my skin, making it prickle as he smirked at me.

Fear gripped her claws in as he moved closer, my heart pounding faster.

Was he going to drain me dry? His compulsion wouldn’t work here. What was he planning on doing with me?

"Marcus, please. You don't want to do this."

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