Page 11 of Chains of Nightshade

"Could I... could I really learn?"

"Of course." I move closer, letting my magic brush against her consciousness. "You just need someone to show you the way."

The awe in her eyes is almost pathetic, yet oddly satisfying. Such a simple creature, so easily manipulated by a few pretty tricks. Still, there's something about her earnest response that makes me pause, if only for a moment.

I watch her face carefully as she stares at my magic display. Such innocent wonder, such desperate hope. It's almost too easy.

"I... I want to believe you."

Perfect. I keep my expression neutral, masking the satisfaction coursing through me. Humans are such simple creatures, so eager to grasp at any promise of salvation. And this one? She's practically begging to be used.

"Believe me, Vera. I can free you from this life."

I extend my hand toward her, my claws gleaming in the ethereal light of the dreamscape. My scales shimmer as I move, a calculated display of otherworldly power.

"But you have to trust me. You must be willing to take that first step toward your own strength."

The magic swirls between us, casting shadows across her pale face. Her eyes follow every movement, transfixed by the display. I can practically taste her desperation, her yearning for something – anything – better than her current existence. Centuries of imprisonment has dried out my sympathy. She's a means to an end, and I'll use her as I see fit.

The dreamscape pulses around us, my power threading through the very fabric of this shared space. Her life forceflutters like a trapped bird, weak yet persistent. Yes, there's something different about this human. Something I can use.

I reach out, my fingers grazing her shoulder. The contact sends a jolt through my entire being. How long has it been since I've touched another living creature? The sensation is... unsettling.

"Stand up straight," I command, using my touch to guide her posture. "A slave cowers. You are not a slave in here."

She straightens her spine, though her eyes remain downcast. Another spark shoots through me as I lift her chin with my finger.

"Look at me when I speak to you. Fear is a choice, Vera. Choose differently."

Her eyes meet mine, uncertain but holding. Good. The first step.

"I..." She starts to look away.

"No. Keep your eyes on mine. The dark elves want you to look down, to feel small. Is that what you want?"

"No."

"Then don't give them what they want." The dreamscape ripples around us as I circle her. The magic here feels different – more tangible than it should be. I can actually feel the warmth of her skin, smell the soap she uses to scrub the floors. Strange.

"Magic flows in your veins," I tell her, though I'm not entirely sure why I can sense her so clearly. "I can teach you to harness it. To stand tall. To fight back."

The connection between us hums with energy. It's been so long since anyone has even approached my prison. The dark elves sealed me away and forgot me, left me to rot in the darkness. Yet this fragile human somehow found her way to my consciousness.

I become all too aware of how close Vera is to my snake skin. I sense her pulse quicken, can smell her fear. The dreamscapeallows a certain intimacy, but it's different from physical touch. Hollow. Incomplete.

My tongue flicks out, tasting the air around her. Even here, in this shared consciousness, I catch hints of her scent - soap, sweat, and something else. Something uniquely her, like rich spices.

"Your hand," I command, extending my own. "Give it to me."

She hesitates, but reaches out. Her fingers brush against mine, and the contact sends electricity through my scales. Her skin is impossibly soft, delicate like flower petals. I want to know if she's this soft in the physical realm. This warm. This alive.

My grip tightens around her fingers. Such fragile bones beneath such delicate skin. I could crush them without effort, yet I find myself being gentle, careful. The urge to taste her overwhelms me. To drag my tongue across her pulse point, to feel her heartbeat against my lips.

"You're trembling," I observe, drawing her closer. My free hand traces up her arm, feeling goosebumps rise in its wake. "Are you afraid?"

"No," she whispers, though her heart races.

Her fingers brush against my hand again, more deliberately this time. "Okay... I'll try."

---