Page 3 of Too Dangerous To Die

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RHAEGAR

The first thing I feel ispain.

It is not the slow, creeping agony of old wounds or the numbing weight of stone sleep. It is something deeper, something raw—a fire igniting in a long-dead body, a forgotten hunger stirring awake.

I was not meant to wake.

Still, I breathe.

The air is overflowing with the stench ofblood and magic, two things that should not mix but now coil around me like a summoning. My body shifts, half-solid, half-formed, caught between the realms of flesh and stone. I feel the heavypulse of the bond—new,fragile, and yet alreadyanchoreddeep within me.

My eyes snap open.

A girl lies before me, her bodyslumped against the ruins, dark hair fanned out over shattered stone. Blood trickles from the cut on her palm, sinking into the ancient runes beneath her. My runes.

The bond flares, a deep pull in my chest—a hollow, aching need that I have not felt in centuries.

She has awakened me. Her magic is familiar… something that I should loathe with every part of my being.

But now, she is mine.

I inhale sharply, testing the limits of my form. My limbs are unsteady, the weight of my existence shifting as the curse fights against its breaking.The stone still clings to me, reluctant to let me go.My left arm remains frozen, rough and cracked, while the right burns with raw flesh, veinsglowing ember-redbeneath obsidian skin. My wings tremble, half-formed—more shadow than substance.

Imperfect.

Incomplete.

The realization sends a ripple of fury through me. I was a warlord once, a force thatkings alike feared. And now?

Now, I amhalf a man. Half a monster.

I bare my teeth,a low growl vibrating deep in my chest.

A body lies sprawled beside her—adark elf, lifeless, his throat crushed beneath my claws.I do not remember killing him. The instinct must have taken over, the violence as natural as breath. His kind have always hunted mine, though I do not remember why.

I should not care.

My gaze drags back toher.

The bond coils tighter.

I kneel beside her, studying her face.Too pale.Her heartbeat is slow, faltering—dangerously weak.She is dying.

And I do not know why thatbothers me.

I reach for her without thinking. The moment my fingers brush her skin,I feel her magic surge through me—even tainted, even weakened,it is intoxicating.Power licks up my arm, sharp and bright, sinking deep into my bones.

I inhale sharply, and I feel truly alive.

A curse and a blessing, bound together in the frail body of a dying Purna.

The temptation totake morelingers at the deepest recesses of my mind.

If I consume her fully, I could be whole again.

The thought sends a shudder through me. It should not be so easy to entertain. And yet,the hunger is already there, stretching its talons through my ribs, whispering its cruel truths.

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