Page 10 of Hex and the Dragon
"I know," Leo said, though Ivy heard the doubt in his voice. "I know that. But knowing something and feeling it are two different things."
The call ended, leaving them in heavy silence. Tilly had fallen asleep against her father's shoulder, exhausted by her visions and the effort of trying to explain impossible things to adults who struggled to understand.
"We should go," Griff said quietly. "Let you two get back to your research."
"Be careful," Ivy said as they prepared to leave. "If Tilly has any more visions..."
"We'll call immediately," Mara promised. "And you two should be careful as well. That thing is getting stronger, and you're both showing signs of being more affected than you want to admit."
After they left, Ivy and Dorian sat in silence for several minutes, the weight of the situation settling over them like a heavy blanket. Forty-seven people lost to dreams, and the number was only going to grow.
"Coffee?" Dorian asked eventually, his voice carefully neutral.
"Please," Ivy said gratefully. "I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."
Dorian disappeared into the library's small kitchenette, returning with two steaming mugs and the kind of determined expression that suggested he was preparing for battle. "So," he said, settling back into his chair and positioning his mug within easy reach. "What do we actually know about this thing?"
Ivy opened the Chronicle again, noting how the text had changed once more. Now the pages contained detailed psychological profiles of every resident in Mistwhisper Falls,complete with their deepest fears, strongest desires, and the specific dreams the fragment was using to seduce them.
"It's methodical," she said, scanning the entries with growing alarm. "Look at this—it's not just offering people generic perfect lives. It's crafting individual fantasies based on their personal trauma and desires."
She pointed to an entry about Mrs. Patterson, whose husband had died in a car accident five years ago. The Chronicle's notes detailed exactly how it was showing her dreams where the accident never happened, where she and her husband grew old together in perfect happiness.
"And here," she continued, finding the entry for the Morrison twins. "It's giving them dreams where their parents never divorced, where their family stayed together and moved somewhere exciting instead of this small town they feel trapped in."
Dorian leaned closer to read over her shoulder, his breath warm against her neck as he studied the pages. "It's not just rewriting their present," he observed. "It's rewriting their entire personal histories. Changing the past so their pain never existed."
"Which explains why the dreams feel more real than reality," Ivy said, hyper-aware of his proximity and the way his amber eyes reflected the Chronicle's inner light. "If you could live in a world where your worst experiences never happened..."
"You'd choose that world every time," Dorian finished. "Even if some part of you knew it was false."
They worked through the night, sharing coffee and quiet conversation as they documented the Chronicle's influence patterns. Their research sessions grew more intimate as the hours passed—hands brushing when they reached for the same page, shoulders touching as they leaned over particularly densepassages, lingering glances when they thought the other wasn't looking.
"Your translation skills are remarkable," Ivy said as Dorian decoded a particularly complex passage about reality-warping theory. "Most people need years of study to read ancient draconic this fluently."
"Dragon magic is instinctive," he explained, his fingers tracing the flowing script with unconscious grace. "We don't learn languages so much as remember them. Like genetic memory passed down through bloodlines."
"That's fascinating," Ivy said, genuinely intrigued. "I've always wondered how shifter magic differs from trained supernatural abilities."
"It's more... emotional," Dorian said thoughtfully. "Human magic tends to be precise, controlled, based on learned techniques. Dragon magic responds to feeling as much as intention."
As if to demonstrate his point, golden sparks danced around his fingertips as he spoke, drawn out by the warmth in his voice and the comfort he felt in sharing this part of himself with her.
"Beautiful," Ivy whispered, mesmerized by the way the light played across his features.
Their eyes met and held, the air between them crackling with more than magical energy. For a moment, the Chronicle's influence faded into background noise, replaced by genuine attraction and growing understanding.
Then the shadows in the corner of the room began to move.
Ivy gasped, her attention snapping toward the darkness that was shifting and writhing like smoke given substance. The shadows had eyes—dozens of them, blinking and watching with ancient intelligence.
"Dorian," she said quietly, not daring to look away from the manifestation.
"I see it," he replied, golden fire flaring around his hands as his protective instincts activated.
The shadow-figure spoke with a voice like rustling pages and distant thunder:
Such dedication to your research. Such delightful progress toward understanding. Soon you will be ready for the next lesson, dear readers. Soon you will see that resistance serves no purpose when perfection awaits.
