Page 36 of Darkbirch Academy

“So… you’re spying on students?” I raise an eyebrow.

“I prefer to think of it as collecting information,” he replies.

I frown. “But how does that reconcile with your story that you were forcibly bound to this place decades ago?”

“I came here with innocent intentions, believe it or not.”

I almost snort at the word “innocent.”

“After centuries in shadows, even dragons desire a change of scenery,” he continues, and his voice turns bitter. “I suppressed my magic to blend in, to walk among humans and clearbloods without attracting attention. But I underestimated Heathborne’s detection abilities.” He gestures vaguely at his chest, where I know the binding runes lie hidden beneath his clothing. “One moment of carelessness, and I found myself... recruited.”

“That’s a strong risk you took for some probably useless knowledge collection,” I say, studying his face carefully.

He tilts his head, and moonlight catches the sharp angles of his profile. “Knowledge is never useless, Salem. Even the most mundane details can become critical with time.”

I search his face for signs of deception. After years of training to detect lies, I’ve become adept at spotting the subtle tells—a flicker of an eyelid, a slight tension around the mouth, a momentary shift in breathing. But Dayn’s faceremains frustratingly unreadable. Either he’s a phenomenal liar, or he’s telling the truth.

“You expect me to believe you were outsmarted by clearbloods?” I ask, skepticism evident in my tone. If there’s anything I’ve learned about Dayn, it’s that he’s sharp. He misses nothing—or close to.

“No,” he says, resuming our path toward the center of the greenhouse. “I expect you to understand that even the most powerful beings have blind spots. Mine was underestimating how far clearblood magic had evolved.”

I consider this as we navigate around a cluster of plants whose leaves follow our movement like predatory eyes. Something still doesn’t ring true to me about his story, but I let it go for now. It looks like we’ve finally arrived.

“There,” Dayn whispers, pointing ahead.

The greenhouse opens to a circular chamber at its center, where the full moon shines directly through a domed ceiling. There, in perfectly arranged concentric circles, grow the moonfire lilies—their petals translucent and glowing with internal blue-white light. They pulse gently, like heartbeats, synchronized to some rhythm I can’t quite detect.

“Beautiful,” I whisper, despite myself.

“And deadly,” Dayn adds, approaching the nearest bloom. “Touch them with bare skin, and they’ll burn to the bone.”

I pull out a pair of thin gloves that I keep in my pocket and slip them on. “I’m prepared.”

Dayn produces a small crystal vial. “Three drops from the center of each bloom. No more, no less. The stability of the entire binding depends on precise measurements.”

I nod and carefully approach the nearest lily. Its glow intensifies as I near it, as if responding to my presence. I tiltthe bloom and press gently at its base. A droplet of luminescent liquid forms at the center, hanging for a moment before falling into the vial. It’s mesmerizing—light made liquid, captured in glass.

“Two more,” I murmur, moving to the next bloom.

That’s when we hear it—a male voice carrying through the humid air.

“...third time this week something’s triggered the perimeter alarm. I want a full sweep of the greenhouse.”

Dayn moves faster than my eye can track. One moment he’s beside the lilies, the next his hand clamps over my mouth as he pulls me behind a massive leaf of some elephant-ear plant. The leaf is easily six feet across, providing momentary concealment.

His body curves around mine, sheltering me from view. I feel his chest against my back, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist, his presence once again intensely close. His lips brush my ear as he whispers, “Not a sound.”

The beam of a flashlight sweeps across the greenhouse, cutting through the mystical glow of the nocturnal plants. From our hiding place, I see Mazrov moving methodically down the path we just traversed.

My heart pounds so loudly I’m certain he’ll hear it. Dayn’s hand remains firmly over my mouth, his other arm like an iron band around my middle. With each second, the heat from his body intensifies, as if his dragon nature surges closer to the surface in response to danger.

Mazrov pauses near the chamber entrance, his flashlight beam playing over the moonfire lilies. “Someone’s been here recently,” he says to an unseen companion. “The lilies are agitated.”

I feel Dayn tense behind me. His grip tightens fractionally, and I realize he’s preparing to fight if necessary. The thought should be comforting—he’s certainly lethal enough to handle a guard—but something in me recoils at the idea of him revealing his true nature here. If he’s exposed, my cover might be compromised as well.

After what feels like an eternity, Mazrov turns away. “Secure the perimeter and check back in fifteen minutes. I want hourly patrols for the rest of the night.”

The flashlight beam retreats, and footsteps fade into the distance. Still, Dayn doesn’t release me immediately. He waits, listening with senses far keener than mine, before slowly removing his hand from my mouth.

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