I woke up to an argument.

  Of course I did.

  I groaned and tried to burrow under the blankets, but Ruth was having none of it.

  “You need to do something. Ward is accusing Ivan of giving him nightmares.”

  “Did he?” I lifted my head just enough to squint at her.

  “Stella says no.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Besides, we have to be awake to fix it.”

  “What if,” I said slowly, “he were, hypothetically, the brother of the King of Halloween and currently without a hoard?”

  She threw her hands up. “They are both being pig-headed and loud!”

  Jerod’s head floated down between us with a yawn.

  “What is going on?”

  I screamed.

  Not internally.

  Actually screamed.

  Then crab-walked backward across the floor.

  “Fuck!”

  “I didn’t want to climb down,” he said mildly, rolling his eyes. “This was easier.”

  “You can remove your head?!” I demanded.

  Apparently I had yelled that louder than intended, because the argument from the other end of the bunker cut off mid-snarl.

  “Jerod!” Ward barked. “Quit scaring my Alpha!”

  “Wasn’t on purpose,” Jerod sighed.

  I watched, frozen, as his head floated upward and settled back onto his neck.

  It clicked into place.

  The blood vanished.

  All that remained was the thin red scar circling his throat.

  I stared at him.

  I needed new friends.

  “I did not give him nightmares,” Ivan crossed his arms and glared at me. “Tell your packmate that.”

  I very badly wanted to use my alpha power on him.

  ‘Claim him and make him understand,’ Dragoon suggested with a shrug.

  I sighed and rubbed my head.

  “Everyone!” I barked.

  The room stilled.

  “Ruth — breakfast. Ward — coffee. Jerod — help them. Ivan, meet me at the top of the hatch. I’ll explain hoard to you while you do push-ups.”

  “And what makes you think—” Ivan began.

  I rose to my feet and fixed him with the same look I used on recruits who thought they were clever.

  “Up there. Now.”

  He moved.

  Fast.

  Jerod finished climbing down from the top bunk, staring at the ladder like it had personally betrayed him.

  “Did you just go full drill sergeant on my accountant?”

  I turned slowly and glared at him.

  “He woke me before coffee.”

  “I tried to warn him!” Ward called from the shelves.

  I froze.

  The shelves.

  Empty where it mattered.

  Fuck. No coffee in my stores.

  ‘Chaos… I hate to ask,’ I rubbed my forehead. ‘Can chaos magic make coffee? And maybe a percolator?’

  ‘Never tried.’

  ‘Is there a way to access it or—’ I sighed.

  ‘No rules. Just feel it,’ he said.

  Ugh.

  “Ward, stop looking,” I sighed as I headed for the hatch ladder. “I don’t have any. Just find something hot for everyone to drink or we’re having water.”

  “There’s powdered milk,” he chuckled.

  I flipped him off and climbed.

  I focused on the movement — rung, pull, step — and how I felt after yesterday.

  My mind didn’t feel fragile anymore.

  It was strange not to feel like I was going to fly apart at the slightest push.

  It was also strange how protective I felt of Jerod.

  I’d analyze that later.

  I reached the top of the hatch and hauled myself out.

  Having a younger body was great for climbing and other physically demanding nonsense.

  Ivan was pacing in tight lines across the clearing, still glaring at me while he did it.

  “Do you want to listen to my explanation of hoard,” I asked evenly, “or would you prefer morning calisthenics?”

  I searched my memories, hoping sheer force of habit might manifest coffee through nostalgia alone.

  He snarled and started stretching.

  I sighed and reclaimed the rock I’d sat on the night before.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  As he warmed up, I imagined the warm weight of a coffee mug in my hands.

  Steam curling upward.

  The rich aroma filling my nose.

  Dark brown. Almost black.

  Strong enough to qualify as a controlled substance.

  Now bring your hands up like you’re holding it, Chaos said quietly.

  I lifted them, fingers curling as if around a battered camp mug.

  I imagined the weight settling into my palms.

  Heat against my skin.

  The faint roughness of ceramic.

  Then the magic moved.

  Wild. Unruly.

  But not violent.

  It flowed through me like a current I’d finally stopped fighting. I let it mingle with the memory — the smell, the bitterness, the ritual of mornings that had kept me sane for years.

  Something coalesced between my hands.

  Air thickened.

  Shadows shimmered.

  Then—

  Weight.

  Real.

  Solid.

  Steam rose between my fingers.

  I stared down at the mug that absolutely had not existed five seconds ago.

  No panic.

  Calm.

  Yes, it still unnerved me.

  But it didn’t feel like drowning anymore.

  It felt like using a muscle I’d avoided.

  I lifted it and took a careful sip.

  Perfect.

  Strong enough to strip paint.

  Exactly how I liked it.

  Yesterday, that would have terrified me.

  Today?

  It just tasted like coffee.

  Ivan was watching me as he started push-ups.

  “You didn’t freak out. Yesterday you did.”

  “Things happened last night,” I shrugged, taking another long drink. “Jerod grounded me. I grounded him. Emergency triage fear feeding helped.”

  “He can’t always control his magic,” Ivan said.

  “He needs an anchor,” I replied evenly. “And until you get your head out of your ass, I’m it. So now he’s got better control.”

  The push-ups slowed—but didn’t stop.

  “Hoard helps with control?” he asked, glancing up at me.

  I finished the coffee in one long gulp. Dragon perks were great for hot beverages. I set the mug aside and started stretching.

  “From what I can tell,” I said, dropping into push-ups beside him, “dragons don’t regulate internally the way humans do. We’re external regulators. Bond-based. If we’re suppressed, it screws with the whole system.”

  “How would you even know that?”

  “My dad suppressed my nature when I was a baby so my uncle wouldn’t find out.” I kept my pace steady. “I aged like a human. Looked forty-five until I woke up in Attwater’s lab. Taro injected me with shadow venom a week before that—triggered the dragon fully. But my whole life I had to stay in control, or I felt like I was a hair’s breadth from coming undone.”

  Ivan went quiet.

  “You lean on numbers to keep from falling apart,” I said.

  I hit twenty push-ups. Ten more, then I’d switch.

  “Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “They keep my mind quiet.”

  “This is how I used to keep mine quiet,” I said, pushing up to my feet and starting jumping jacks. “Back when I went by Jonathan Hale.”

  I kept my breathing even.

  “Later—what you saw in the bunker. The dated clothes. Alphabetized storage. That was Carl staying in control.”

  “And now?” Ivan glanced at me.

  “Now I’m learning to let people in.” I kept the rhythm steady. “Making people hoard isn’t easy for me. I spent a long time shutting everyone out to keep them safe.”

  Ivan switched to running in place. “Jerod and I were raised in foster care. Separately.”

  His gaze stayed fixed ahead.

  “I learned if I used numbers, they kept me longer.”

  I fell into a jog beside him, matching his pace.

  Silence.

  That was what he needed.

  “I guess that led to accounting,” he chuckled softly. “And probably OCD.”

  He glanced at me. “Love your system down there, by the way.”

  I groaned. “It’s embarrassing. But it’s part of me.”

  “I organize my clothes by date too,” he admitted quietly.

  Then he hesitated.

  “What if I hoard someone… and they leave?”

  Show him, Chaos whispered.

  Dragoon rumbled low in my mind.

  “I won’t,” I said, meeting Ivan’s gaze. “I give you my word as Alpha.”

  His eyes searched my face. Measuring. Weighing.

  Then—slowly—he nodded.

  I swallowed.

  “Ivan,” I said, steady now. “I claim you as hoard.”

  The bond snapped into place.

  This time, it was relief.

  Clean.

  Balanced.

  Right.

  Thank God. I wasn’t sure I could survive another bond like Jerod’s.

  Ivan staggered.

  I moved without thinking, catching his arm before he hit the ground.

  He stared at me, eyes wide. “Why is my dragon urging me to claim you?”

  I snorted despite myself. “That’s… kind of their thing.”

  His brow furrowed deeper. “Then why does he want me to shift and do it?”

  That made me pause.

  “…That’s new,” I muttered.

  Chaos laughed.

  Fuck.

  “He’s adamant,” Ivan said slowly. “Both of us. Shifted.”

  My chest tightened.

  I couldn’t survive another bond like Jerod’s.

  Not the flood.

  Not the fracture.

  Not again.

  He needs this, Dragoon sent, the vibration settling deep in my bones.

  “All right,” I said, licking my lips as I stepped back.

  The world tilted as I shifted.

  My spine lengthened, bones unfolding with a familiar ache as shadow poured off me like smoke. Talons bit into the earth. Darkness coiled along my scales. The air dimmed where my wings blocked the sky.

  I rose above Ivan’s human form.

  The ground beneath us hummed in recognition.

  Then he shifted.

  I was suddenly grateful for the size of the clearing.

  Ivan’s dragon surged upward in a rush of power that made my wings flare instinctively. He dwarfed me—massive and broad-chested, built for endurance rather than speed. His scales were polished onyx, flawless and deep.

  But beneath them—

  Chaos moved.

  Not mine.

  Natural. Ancient. Rippling under the surface like a storm trapped beneath glass.

  Bright blue magic spiraled through him—cold, vivid, awake.

  The power of dream, Chaos murmured.

  His eyes burned spectral blue, unfocused and infinite, as if he were looking through me instead of at me.

  When he exhaled, sparks of blue and violet snapped from his nostrils, scattering across the clearing like broken stars.

  He studied himself. Flexed once. Snorted.

  This isn’t the right form.

  The thought didn’t sound.

  It pressed.

  Authority without effort.

  My legs folded beneath me before I could stop them. Shadows cinched tight around my body as instinct forced me lower, closer to the earth.

  His form shimmered again.

  The dragon dissolved into silhouette—then condensed.

  Hardening. Sharpening.

  When the light settled, a tall figure stood where the beast had been.

  Black armor covered him head to toe, matte and lightless, as though the metal drank illumination. The plates were old—not rusted, but worn. Shaped by centuries of battle and duty rather than vanity.

  A tattered cloak spilled from his shoulders, edges whispering like dead leaves in a night wind.

  Green fire burned in the hollow sockets of his helmet.

  Not wild flame.

  Controlled.

  Watchful.

  Ancient.

  The Black Knight of Halloween stood before me.

  I didn’t know how I knew.

  I just did.

  My chest tightened.

  I pressed fully to the ground.

  A low whimper tore from my throat before I could stop it.

  Then he spoke.

  The voice held power and order—but the echoing, hollow quality made me press lower to the earth.

  “Daniel, I claim you as hoard.”

  The words rolled through me.

  Bond.

  Not consuming.

  Not drowning.

  Structuring.

  We bowed.

  Boundaries slid into place.

  Not chains.

  Scaffolding.

  He stepped toward me, and I trembled.

  “You are a key anchor of the realm,” he said, laying a gauntleted hand between my eyes. “Halloween is born of Chaos and Shadow. All our power flows from them. The boundaries I place upon you will help you grow.”

  I was shaking.

  “What do you want from me?” The words came from my dragon.

  “The pain you carry,” he said calmly. “You have borne it alone long enough. As hoard, it must be shared. Let your power turn it into shadow for us.”

  “I’ve carried it so long,” I whispered.

  “Then you have carried it long enough to release it,” he replied, stroking my muzzle.

  I leaned into the touch despite myself.

  “Shadow Lord,” he continued, “you will collapse and be consumed by corrupted shadow if you do not.”

  Daniel. It’s time to let go, Chaos said gently.

  I broke.

  I collapsed fully to the ground as fiery tears streamed down my scales.

  “Take it.”

  His hand sank into my mind.

  Memories rose—

  Pain.

  Anger.

  Fear.

  Rage.

  They did not vanish.

  They diffused.

  Edges blunted.

  Weight redistributed.

  Manageable.

  Below us, something crashed.

  “Daniel!” Jerod’s voice carried up from the bunker.

  The bond flared—sharp with alarm.

  Boots pounded on metal rungs.

  I was dimly aware of the hatch slamming open.

  “Don’t interfere,” the Black Knight said calmly, not looking away from me.

  Jerod froze at the edge of the clearing.

  He saw the Knight.

  Saw me bowed beneath him.

  For one dangerous second, power surged in his aura—

  Then he understood.

  He dropped to one knee beside me instead.

  His hand pressed against my flank.

  Anchoring.

  The Black Knight moved through my fractured mind with deliberate precision—pruning, not tearing. Like shaping a tree meant to grow straight.

  Tears poured down my scales.

  “I’m not special enough for this,” I whispered—my last defense.

  “The King is the face of Halloween,” the Black Knight said. “He leads and tends our people. I enforce boundary and consequence. But shadows are the beating heart of the realm.”

  His voice remained steady.

  “Shadows shelter us from harm. They conceal us until we recover—until we are ready to wield corrective fear… or fear for joy.”

  “You are as necessary as we are,” Jerod murmured. “Even if you dwell in shadow.”

  “Rest now,” the Black Knight commanded softly.

  I whimpered. “I don’t want to be broken…”

  “You are not broken,” he said. “The pain will be lighter. Easier to carry.”

  The world faded.

  My body slipped into the Shadow Realm.

  Everything drained to grayscale.

  And for the first time in years—

  I slept without bracing for impact.

  Chaos: Wait… she decided to leave for a competition on that note?!

  Order: I believe it’s called a cliffhanger.

  Chaos: She is evil.

  Order: She read a great many writing books and internalized them.

  Chaos: And she wonders why her retention is at eighty to one hundred percent?

  Order: Strategy disguised as chaos.

  Chaos: Think we can get a comment to pep her up for competition… or the book?

  Order: Unlikely. She attracts lurkers. Much like herself.

  Chaos: Can we dare them to prove us wrong?

  Order: I doubt reverse psychology works on readers who specialize in silent observation.