Page 55 of Taken

“Focus on the subject,” Creed instructs, voice flat with professional detachment. Like I’m not sitting here with ancient magic searing through my veins.

Across the chamber, a young dragon kneels, eyes glazed and unfocused. Test subject. Guinea pig. Some junior recruit who pissed off the wrong superior.

“I can’t just—” I start, but Creed cuts me off.

“You can. The connection is there. We’ve confirmed it.” His patience wears thin, the scales beneath his skin shimmer briefly before he controls himself. “Stop resisting.”

The Shard pulses against my skin, eager. Hungry. It wants the connection as much as they do. Magic recognizing magic across the void between us.

I close my eyes, letting the crystal’s heat spread up my arm. The sensation isn’t exactly painful—more like remembering a limb that fell asleep. Pins and needles of power prickling through nerves long dormant.

Focus, Lila. Find the path of least resistance.

The young dragon’s energy signature comes into focus—a swirling vortex of amber and gold, beautiful in its ferocity. So young. So unaware of what’s happening to him.

I’m sorry.

I extend my awareness through the Shard, letting its ancient power wind around the dragon’s essence like crimson threads. His body stiffens as the connection snaps into place.

“Command him,” Creed urges, leaning forward.

I hesitate, stomach churning. This is wrong. This violation of another being’s will. But if I don’t comply, they’ll just find a way to force me. And I don’t have much fight in me now.

“Stand,” I whisper, the word carrying weight beyond its single syllable.

The dragon rises smoothly to his feet, movements mechanical. His eyes remain unfocused, pupils dilated unnaturally wide.

“Excellent.” Emerson makes notes on her tablet, clinical satisfaction radiating from her. “Now something more complex. Make him shift, but only partially.”

My fingers tighten around the Shard, bile rising in my throat.

“Shift,” I command quietly. “Right arm only.”

The effect is immediate. Scales erupt from the young dragon’s skin, rippling from shoulder to fingertips in a wave of amber. The transformation stops precisely where I directed: human form on the left, dragon on the right. His face remains blank, unaware of the violation happening to his own body.

“Perfect control,” Emerson murmurs, although her excitement is unmistakable. “The legends were accurate.”

I say nothing, focusing on maintaining the tenuous connection while silently probing deeper. While they watch me manipulate the dragon, I follow the crystal’s energy back to its source, tracing pathways they don’t realize exist.

The Shard sings with memories—hundreds of years of history imprinted in it. Fragments flash through my mind: a massive chamber deep beneath the earth, walls inscribed with ancient dragon language; a crystal heart pulsing with living fire; a violent struggle, magic against magic; the crystal shattering, a single piece broken away.

There—a specific memory burns brighter than the others. A vault filled with artifacts, familiar somehow, though I’ve never seen it. A chamber sealed with magic.

The place where the Heartstone rests.

The connection slips as my concentration wavers, and the young dragon staggers, blinking in confusion as awareness returns to his eyes.

“What happened?” he asks, voice ragged. He stares in horror at his half-shifted arm.

“Session complete,” Creed announces before the dragon can process what’s happened. He gestures to the guards. “Return him to his unit. Memory suppression protocol.”

The guards drag the disoriented dragon away. He’ll remember nothing of this, just wake with strange nightmares and a sense of violation he can’t explain.

Just like me, after every extraction.

“Well done,” Creed says, approaching as I slump in exhaustion. “Your connection to the Shard is remarkable. Even after your… incident.”

I don’t respond, focused on keeping my breathing steady as the magic recedes. The aftershocks shake through my body; muscles spasming, nerves firing randomly, heart racing too fast. Side effects they don’t care about.

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