But this was not the friendly dragon Ella had once tamed in the world of the fae. This dragon towered over her like a mountain. Its gray-green scales glistened in the bright sun like the armor of a medieval knight, polished by a caring warrior. Heat poured from the dragon's mouth, and tongues of flame shot out with each breath.
The dragon's head was raised high above her, and she had to tilt her head back to get a better look. For some reason, Ella wanted to understand the expression on its face—as if a dragon’s face could express anything other than rage. But its actions spoke for themselves—he breathed down on her from above, and she was scorched by heat like from a fiery furnace.
He did not want to kill his prey immediately. Ella realized the dragon could have done so simply by breathing fire. But he breathed heat. He wanted to torture her—literally roast her before killing her. He didn’t need to eat such small prey as this girl, tiny compared to him. A human body would not satisfy the dragon; it would be like a spoonful of raw—or rather, already roasted—meat for his enormous body. In general, Ella remembered from books that dragons fed on monsters like themselves—ones humans could not even imagine. Creatures of darkness were their food, and she had not yet seen what they looked like in the world of the fae.
Ella did not know what she could do in such a situation.
And then she simply turned her back on the dragon.
It was madness.
The fae, a faceless crowd watching from behind the arena fence as she appeared on stage and saw how the dragon reacted to its toy—Ella—did not seem at all disturbed by the strange behavior of the dragon’s victim. Apparently, they had seen far stranger things. There were no cheers, no moans of horror, no exclamations. The crowd was silent, as if attending the funeral of someone they didn’t know and had stumbled upon by accident.
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There was a monstrous sigh as the dragon drew in air to scorch its victim. And then, with a hiss and a whistle, like the roar of a furnace, a stream of fire and heat descended on Ella.
She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest and inhaled the last particles of clean air surrounding her. It was her final breath—before the pain, before the end, before turning to ash.
Then something unusual began to happen. No—the dragon’s fire did not burn her. A cocoon of some kind of force formed around her, surrounding and enveloping her like a warm blanket.
Ella stood with her back to the dragon, closing her eyes and immersing herself in the calm and protection.
At that moment, she thought that if she was destined to die now, then so be it—there was no other choice. But if she could survive and come out of this trial alive, then she still had something to hope for and live for.
Ella also realized that she did not remember how she had ended up in a world of magic and dragons. Something vague flashed in her memory—the image of a powerful fae man and a Fire Heart with the Sign of the Salamander in its center. Then it all vanished.
All that remained was reality. But something strange was happening inside her and behind her.
She no longer felt the heat of the dragon’s fire. The heat gradually faded, replaced by a cocoon of warmth and calm. Ella felt a protective force enveloping her, like living armor.
Rank 1 — Chosen Bride: Salamander Heart Protection activated.
Her ears caught the whispers of the spectators in the arena, which she had not noticed before. Her eyes suddenly perceived the faint glimmer of every grain of sand in the arena.
Ella turned around, afraid of breaking her protective cocoon, and her eyes met those of a tall, dark-haired fae man standing in the middle of the arena—between her and the dragon.
(To be continued…)
Every choice shapes destiny… and the arena never forgets.??
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