"He sees potential where the Matriarchy only sees a threat." Tiffany’s words echoed in Zaeryn’s mind.
Her voice became hypnotic, drawing him in. And then it was like, it was no longer her speaking. He knew her a bit, so he could tell when she wasn’t being fully herself.
"But that’s not what matters right now. What matters is that he knows what you truly want. Power. Respect. Freedom." She leaned closer, her hand remaining on his cheek. "And he can help you gain it."
A profound shiver, colder than any winter, traced its way down Zaeryn’s spine. The word echoed in the sudden silence of his mind, locking all the terrifying pieces into place.
Her master, she said? That didn’t sound right did it?
’System,’ he thought, his mind racing, ’run a diagnostic on her. Now.’
Immediately, the system flared to life in his mind with a jolt. The warnings were stark, written in flashing crimson text.
[UNIDENTIFIED ENERGY SIGNATURE DETECTED]
[ANALYZING... SOURCE: PROFESSOR TIFFANY]
[SIGNATURE PROFILE: CORRUPTED VITAE. MALIGNANT AURA DETECTED. INDICATION OF HOST MIND COMPROMISE.]
[RECOMMENDATION: DO NOT INITIATE BOND. AVOID ALL PHYSICAL CONTACT. MAINTAIN EXTREME CAUTION.]
’Mind compromise? You mean she’s being mind-controlled?’Zaeryn now looked at Tiffany in a new light. This whole time he had been speaking with Tiffany? His eyes widened and he swallowed a mouthful of saliva.
[HIGH PROBABILITY. DETECTING TRACES OF A DORMANT CONSCIOUSNESS AND AN OVERRIDING, DOMINANT WILL.]
Ice. That’s what he’d felt from her touch. Not just cold, but the dead, predatory chill of this ’Malignant Aura’. She wasn’t just touching him; she was probing him, attempting to taint him with corrupted energy.
He reacted on pure instinct. Zaeryn slapped her hand away from his face, his body moving before his mind had fully processed the command as he took a sharp step back.
"Alright, who are you?" he demanded, his voice dropping, all traces of the playful student gone. "Because you are not Professor Tiffany."
A look of genuine surprise crossed Tiffany’s face, or rather, the face of the thing wearing her. It let out a low chuckle, a sound that was far too deep and resonant to be hers.
"Impressive," the voice said, though her lips barely moved. "You are more perceptive than I anticipated."
Her body stiffened, her head tilting at an unnatural angle. The warmth in her voice drained away, replaced by a cold, ancient resonance that seemed to echo from the depths of a cavern. Her eyes flickered, the familiar hazel darkening to a smoldering, reptilian gold.
"I am Pyralis," the voice boomed from her mouth. "And you, little anomaly, have my undivided attention."
Zaeryn backed away another step, his mind reeling. The name meant nothing to him, but the sheer power radiating from her was suffocating.
’System, who is Pyralis?’
[ANALYZING... CROSS-REFERENCING DIVINE ARCHIVES...]
[RESULT: Pyralis is a common title for the entity known in your world as the Dragon Lord]
Zaeryn felt his stomach drop at that reveal, ’The Dragon Lord? I’m standing in front of the Dragon Lord right now?’
[NEGATIVE. THE PRIMARY CONSCIOUSNESS IS ABSENT. THIS IS TIFFANY, BUT SHE HAS BEEN BREACHED. WHAT SPEAKS THROUGH HER IS NO LONGER HER OWN WILL—IT IS AN EXTENSION, A DIRECT CHANNEL. YOU ARE ADDRESSING A FRAGMENT OF THE DRAGON LORD HIMSELF.]
[IT IS STRONGLY ADVISED THAT YOU LEAVE THIS LOCATION IMMEDIATELY.]
’Yeah, that’s the plan,’ Zaeryn thought, his survival instincts screaming. He was about to turn and bolt, but Tiffany moved with impossible speed, appearing in front of the door in a blur, blocking his only exit.
"The Matriarchy holds you back," the entity whispered through her lips, the deep voice a grotesque mismatch with the professor’s beautiful form. "They fear your potential. But you do not have to be their pet."
The golden eyes of the entity bored into him, offering a chilling temptation. "Join me," the voice of Pyralis commanded, "and I will give you the power to shatter your gilded cage and claim the world you deserve."
Zaeryn stared at the golden-eyed puppet, the Dragon Lord’s offer hanging in the air like poison. Honestly, in his limited time that he had ever thought of his encounter with the dragon king, he never expected to be offered an opportunity like this.
For a fraction of a second, he considered it—a world where he wasn’t weak, wasn’t a second-class citizen. But then, he thought about Ysmeine, Aeris, and all the people in his life, and then the idea of doing such a thing felt so disgusting to him in a strong way.
"It’s a tempting offer," Zaeryn admitted, a defiant smirk slowly returning to his face. "But I’m not interested in a throne given to me by a monster who curses men and wants control of the world. So, I decline."
The last vestiges of Tiffany’s face vanished, replaced by a mask of cold, draconic fury. The entity’s voice boomed from her lips, filled with absolute power.
"A pity. Then your choice is death. I’d advise against screaming, die with dignity. Otherwise what’s the point of acting tough when you’re not really strong?"
Tiffany’s hand shot out, not to touch him, but with a sharp, dismissive gesture. An invisible force, like a battering ram, slammed into Zaeryn’s chest, lifting him off his feet.
He flew across the room, his back crashing into the bookshelf with enough force to splinter the wood and send books flying. He crumpled to the floor, pain exploding in his ribs, the air knocked from his lungs.
He gasped, pushing himself up, his mind racing. He quickly asssed himself for any injuries.
He looked towards the exit, thinking of making a run for it, but then Tiffany was standing there, so that was not an option.
His only choice at survival was to fight back now using his own vitae. But his strongest offensive ability, the Vitae Weaving he’d copied from Daphne, was still nascent and unreliable. He couldn’t risk it failing now and knocking him unconscious.
If he were to fall unconscious now due to Vitae exertion, he would make it too easy for the dragon lord to take his life.
That left him with one option: the raw, foundational strength that flowed through him from his bond with Ysmeine.
Looking around for something, anything, Zaeryn’s sight was set on a desk.
He leaped towards it and with a roar of effort, be grabbed the heavy, minimalist desk. The metal groaned under his grip as he lifted it with sheer, brute force. He spun, hurling the entire desk through the air toward Tiffany like a missile.