Page 50 of Goody Magic Academy: Year Three

Rage and desperation surged through me. With a guttural cry, I lunged at her, but she was faster. She thrust the Dragon Nexus forward, and an invisible force slammed into me, sending me crashing to the floor. My body convulsed as waves of agony washed over me. It felt as if every cell in my body was on fire, burning from the inside out. My muscles spasmed, my back arching uncontrollably off the cold stone floor. A scream tore from my throat, raw and primal.

Inside me, my dragon thrashed just as wildly, its shrieks of pain echoing throughout my mind. I could almost feel its teeth gnashing, its claws tearing at the confines of my human form, desperate to escape the torment.

Through the haze of pain, I became aware of cruel, mocking laughter. The Bloodborne Brotherhood were clearly enjoying the spectacle, their demonic faces twisted with sadistic glee. The sound of their mirth mixed with my cries of agony created a hellish cacophony.

“Stop it, you bitch!” Jaxon’s voice cut through the noise, raw with fury and desperation.

The high priestess turned her cold gaze onto him, her lips curling into a sneer. “I’ve grown tired of you, Jaxon,” she said, her voice disdainful and contemptuous. “It’s time for you to pay for betraying me.”

As she spoke, the pain intensified. My vision blurred, dark spots dancing at the edges. I could taste blood in my mouth from where I had bitten my tongue during one of my convulsions. The acrid scent of ozone filled the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood and the musty odor of the old church.

Through it all, one thought kept pulsing in my mind, as steady and insistent as a heartbeat: We had lost. We had lost everything.

The high priestess’ voice boomed through the church, reverberating off the desecrated walls. “I command you to shift,Peyton. Reveal your dragon to me.” Her eyes blazed with an unholy light, her fingers curled around the Dragon Nexus like talons.

As the last word left her lips, I felt something descend upon me like a veil made of fire and iron. It burned through my skin, searing its way into my very core. It felt as if molten lava was being injected directly into my veins, flowing through my body and setting every nerve ending ablaze.

My dragon, usually such a source of strength and power, cried out in agony within me, its pain mingling with my own. I could feel it thrashing against the cage of my human form, desperate to both escape and resist this forced transformation.

I tried to fight back against the high priestess’ command, but it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with my bare hands. Futile. Impossible.

The shift began, and it was nothing like the smooth transformation I had become accustomed to. This was violent, wrenching, agonizing, as if someone was ripping me apart at the seams. My bones creaked and popped, elongating and reshaping themselves. I could hear the sickening sounds of my skeleton rearranging, each crack and snap sending a fresh wave of nausea through me.

My muscles stretched and twisted like taffy being pulled beyond its limits. I writhed on the floor, my back arching at an impossible angle as my spine elongated, sending the vertebrae pushing against my skin. A scream tore from my throat, quickly morphing into an inhuman roar as my vocal cords changed.

Hot scales erupted all over my skin, bursting through like thousands of tiny knives. Each one felt like a separate wound, the sensation of my soft human skin being replaced by my dragon’s tough hide excruciating in its intensity. The air filled with the scent of blood and the burnt, ozone-like smell that I had come to recognize as the unique odor of my dragon form.

My face contorted, bones shifting and reforming. My jaw extended, teeth lengthening into razor-sharp fangs. The taste of copper flooded my mouth as my gums bled from the rapid change. My eyes transformed, making my vision alternately blur and sharpen before the world appeared in the hyper-focused clarity of my dragon sight.

Through it all, I felt as if invisible hands were molding me, pulling and shaping my body into its dragon form. But these weren’t the gentle hands of a sculptor—they were cruel and unforgiving, caring nothing for the agony they caused as they yanked and twisted.

As the transformation neared its completion, my wings burst from my back in a spray of blood and torn flesh, unfurling and stretching to their full span in the confines of the church.

I lay there, panting heavily, steam rising from my newly formed dragon body. The cold stone floor beneath me snapped and cracked from the heat radiating off my scales. Every breath sent jolts of pain through me, my entire body raw and oversensitive from the forced shift.

I raised my head slowly, my now-reptilian eyes focusing on the high priestess. She stood before me triumphantly, the Dragon Nexus glowing ominously in her hand, and her voice cut through the air, dripping with false sweetness. “Please release him, Balthazar,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving me.

The demon’s lips curled into a cruel smirk. With a casual flick of his wrist, he shoved Jaxon forward. The sound of Jaxon’s body crumpling and hitting the stone floor echoed through the church, a dull thud that reverberated through my very bones.

“Let’s see how strong true love is, shall we?” Balthazar sneered, his red eyes glowing with malicious anticipation.

The high priestess sauntered toward Jaxon, her steps slow and deliberate. She looked down at him, her face a mask of cold contemplation. “Such a handsome boy,” she mused, her voicesoft but menacing. “I wonder if your true love will feel the same about you when you’re all scarred and burned.”

The words hit me like physical blows.

No No No No

The mantra repeated in my mind, a desperate denial of what I knew was coming next. I tried to roar in protest, but only a strangled whimper came out.

She turned to me, her eyes dancing with sadistic glee. “Slave,” she spat, making it clear how she thought of me now, “slash him with your claws and then burn him. But do not kill him.”

Horror washed over and tears welled up in my dragon eyes, hissing when they spilled onto my overheated scales. My heart felt like it was being torn apart under the weight of her cruel command.

Jaxon’s eyes met mine, his gaze steady despite the fear I could smell emanating from him. He was panting, whether from pain or anticipation of what was to come, I couldn’t tell. “It’s okay, Peyton,” he said, his voice hoarse but unwavering. “I love you.”

His words, meant to comfort, only intensified my anguish. I continued to fight against the high priestess’ command with every fiber of my being, willing my talons to stay planted against the floor, straining against the invisible force that sought to control me.

But it was futile. It felt as if icy tendrils had wrapped around my very soul, twisting my body against my will like a puppeteer. My muscles moved of their own accord, my arm raising with claws extended toward Jaxon.

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