Page 8 of Dragon's Captive

And despite everything, my breath catches.

The Appalachian landscape spreads beneath us like a living map, more beautiful and terrible than anything I've seen in books. From this height, the transformation wrought by the Conquest reveals itself in stark patterns. Neat squares of permitted human settlements with their orderly streets and regulated structures. Surrounding them, wild territories reclaimed by nature where dragons hunt, the forests darker and more primal than I remember from childhood. And scattered like burn scars across the canvas—blackened ruins of towns that resisted, their broken remains a decade-old warning that some still need to see.

"Your kind calls this devastation," Kairyx says, his mouth too close to my ear, breath hot against my skin. "We call it restoration. The world was meant to have balance—apex predators and prey, not concrete covering every surface."

"You killed millions," I snap back, finding my voice at last. "Destroyed civilization. Enslaved survivors. Don't dress genocide up as environmental stewardship."

His chest rumbles again, but this time it sounds almost like approval. "The librarian has teeth after all. Good. Submission is sweeter when earned rather than given."

The words send an unwelcome shiver through me that has nothing to do with the biting cold. I focus instead on the landscape below, searching for anything that might help melater. Knowledge is survival. Information is power. I may be captive now, but I refuse to believe this is permanent.

We're flying higher than I realized, high enough that the air thins noticeably, making each breath less satisfying than the last. The mountains rise around us, ancient giants with snow-capped peaks disappearing into clouds. How much farther? Are we crossing into another territory? The thought sends fresh panic coursing through me—if he takes me beyond the boundaries of what I know, any slim hope of rescue dies completely.

Then I see it looming ahead, and understanding crashes over me like ice water.

Drake's Peak. The mountain fortress of Commander Kairyx Emberscale.

Even from a distance, it's like nothing I've ever seen. A jagged mountain that rises above its neighbors, its upper third reshaped into something that bridges the gap between natural formation and deliberate construction. The dark stone is streaked with obsidian veins that catch the sunlight with eerie reflections, mirroring the scales of the creature carrying me. Multiple openings dot the rock face, some massive enough to accommodate full dragon forms, others smaller and more discreet. From the largest opening, I glimpse movement—other dragons, coming and going from what must be their equivalent of a grand entrance.

"Home," Kairyx announces unnecessarily, his wings adjusting our trajectory toward the largest opening. "Your new home, little omega."

The words hit like a physical blow. This isn't a temporary inconvenience. This isn't something I can wait out or endure until opportunity presents itself. This monster intends to keep me, to make me his in truth as well as Conquest law.

Desperate, I renew my struggles, twisting against his iron grip with strength born of pure terror. "Let me go! I'll never be yours! I'll fight you every second of every day!"

His arms hold me with insulting ease, my thrashing as ineffective as a child's tantrum against his inhuman strength. "You humans always imagine resistance as something noble," he says, voice calm despite the wind rushing past us. "But it's merely biological imperative preparing your body for claiming. The struggle heightens both alpha aggression and omega receptivity."

"That's disgusting," I spit, even as my treacherous body responds to his words with another unwelcome rush of warmth.

"That's nature," he counters, then adds with terrible certainty: "You'll understand soon enough."

We're approaching the mountain now, close enough that I can see details I missed from a distance. The massive opening we're heading for isn't just a cave—it's an architectural marvel, its entrance carved with intricate designs that look like stylized flames or perhaps dragon scales. The symmetry is too perfect to be natural, the proportions too aesthetically pleasing to be accidental.

Inside the cavernous space, several smaller dragons—though "smaller" is entirely relative, as each still dwarfs any human—scramble to attention as we approach. Their scales gleam in various dark hues—midnight blue, forest green, deep bronze—marking them as different bloodlines or perhaps ranks beneath Kairyx's obsidian black.

He backwings to slow our approach, powerful muscles bunching beneath me as his wings create controlled resistance against our forward momentum. Then we're through the entrance, and he lands with surprising grace for something so massive, absorbing the impact with bent knees before setting me on my feet.

My legs nearly buckle beneath me, unprepared to support my weight after the flight. Blood rushes back into limbs I hadn't realized were numb with cold and fear. I stagger, off-balance and disoriented by the sudden transition from flight to ground.

Before I can recover, Kairyx passes me to waiting servants like a package being handed off for processing. Human servants, I realize with a jolt—all of them betas based on their scent, all wearing expressions of careful neutrality that reveal nothing of their thoughts at their commander's return with a clearly unwilling omega.

"Take her to the prepared quarters," Kairyx orders, already turning away, his attention shifting to a dragon in dark gray scales who approaches with a tablet-like device. "Have her bathed and dressed appropriately. I'll inspect her after the territorial council report."

Inspect her. Like I'm livestock. Like I'm a possession to be examined for quality.

"Yes, Commander," responds the eldest of the servants, a woman perhaps in her fifties with steel-gray hair pulled into a severe bun. Her eyes flick to me briefly, assessing but not unkind, before returning to Kairyx. "Should we begin suppressant purging protocols immediately?"

The question sends ice through my veins. Suppressant purging. They're going to flush the chemicals from my system, trigger my heat cycle deliberately. Make me vulnerable to claiming in the most fundamental way possible.

Kairyx glances back at me, eyes hardening as they take in my obvious horror. "Yes," he decides, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth that's somehow more frightening than any snarl could be. "Begin immediately. I want her system clear within three days."

Three days. Three days until my biology fully reawakens, until the omega nature I've suppressed for a decade comesroaring back with a vengeance. Until my body betrays me completely.

"I'll fight you," I promise, voice low and fierce despite the servants' hands already guiding me toward an arched doorway leading deeper into the mountain. "I'll never submit willingly."

"You all say that," he replies, already turning away, dismissing me as a problem already solved. "And you all surrender in the end."

The servants lead me through imposing carved passageways, their dimensions clearly designed for draconic rather than human proportions. Everything feels too large, too grand, too alien—from the high ceilings that could accommodate full dragon height to the elaborate carvings that adorn walls and support columns. I force myself to note potential escape routes with desperate attention, memorizing turns and junctions, even as logic tells me they're useless without wings. Where would I go? How would I get down from a mountain accessible only by flight?

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