Fated to the Dragon I Deceived

Eileen's POV

The marble floor was bone-cold, the kind of cold that seeped through my heavy servant's dress and burrowed straight into my marrow. But five years had accustomed me to this bone-deep cold, ever since my father sold me to the Thorne family at fourteen. I dragged the wet cloth across the intricate patterns carved into the tiles, watching rose-scented water pool in the grooves. Again. This was the third time this week I'd scrubbed this same damn spot because Vespera had knocked over her perfume—again—and she didn't give a shit that this rug cost more than my entire year's wages.

My hands moved mechanically, muscle memory taking over while my mind drifted. The room around me screamed wealth in that particular way only old money could manage: the vanity overflowing with jewelry she never wore, oil paintings of stern-faced Thorne ancestors—supposedly the Emperor's direct knights back when the Thorne family actually mattered.

Now? The Thornes were bottom-tier nobility, like drowning rats clinging desperately to driftwood.

I sat back on my heels, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. Through the window, I could see the overgrown gardens, the crumbling east wing we couldn't afford to repair, the family crest above the gate with its paint peeling off. No wonder Lady Thorne puts all her hopes on Vespera, I thought bitterly. Too bad the girl's only talent is making everyone around her miserable.

The thought triggered a cascade of memories I'd rather forget—Vespera's greatest hits, if you could call systematic cruelty a performance.

Breakfast table, two months ago. Vespera's perfectly manicured hand sweeping Celia's bread onto the floor. "The bastard daughter of a commoner doesn't deserve to eat at the same table as me." Celia's face going white, Lady Thorne's approving nod, my own cowardly silence.

The garden, last week. The sound of tearing fabric as Vespera ripped apart the dress Celia had spent weeks sewing by hand. "You think you can wear this trash outside? You're embarrassing the Thorne name!" Celia's tears, Vespera's laugh, my fists clenched in my apron.

The cellar, three days ago. The heavy door slamming shut, Celia's panicked screams echoing off stone walls. "Maybe a night down there will teach you some manners, sister." The word dripping with venom, the key turning in the lock, disgust churning in my stomach.

I scrubbed harder, as if I could wash away my own complicity. If she didn't have her noble status, someone would've already—

A violent coughing fit suddenly surged from deep in my throat, interrupting my thoughts.

I covered my mouth, my body curling into a shrimp-like shape from the coughing. When it finally stopped, my palm was dotted with specks of blood.

Damn it.

I wiped away the blood with my sleeve, taking a deep breath, trying to steady my breathing. That familiar dull pain in my chest started again, like something was slowly rotting inside my lungs.

All thanks to Vespera.

That afternoon three months ago flashed through my mind—Vespera standing at her alchemy table, holding a vial of purple-smoking potion, her eyes gleaming with a manic light.

"Eileen, come here." She commanded, her tone carrying that arrogance that brooked no refusal.

I walked over, a sense of foreboding in my heart.

"Drink it." She shoved the potion into my hands.

"Miss Thorne, what is this?"

"A potion that can awaken magical talent." Vespera's voice was filled with desperate longing. "I bought the formula from the black market, but I need to confirm whether it's effective, whether it's... safe."

I stared at the vial, the purple liquid churning inside the glass bottle, emanating a pungent odor.

"If you refuse," Vespera sneered, "the consequences will be beyond your imagination."

My hands trembled. I knew she was serious.

I drank the potion.

The moment it slid down my throat, I felt my insides burning. I collapsed to my knees, violent coughing tearing at my lungs, blood pouring from my mouth. Vespera just stood there, coldly observing, recording something in her notebook.

"Looks like this formula doesn't work." She finally concluded, her tone like she was evaluating a failed cooking experiment. "Clean up the floor and get out."

Since then, my body never recovered. Every coughing fit brought up blood, my chest constantly ached dully, as if something was slowly devouring my life.

And Vespera? She continued searching for the next formula, the next possibility that might grant her magical talent. A noble lady destined never to become a mage, desperately trying to change her fate, willing to gamble with other people's lives.

I coughed a few more times before finally suppressing the discomfort in my chest.

When I stood up, I noticed the dressing table drawer wasn't completely closed, revealing a thin gap.

Strange... Vespera usually guards this drawer closely. Why did she forget to lock it today?

I hesitated. As a servant, I shouldn't touch my mistress's private belongings. But that gap seemed to mock my professional ethics—if Lady Thorne found the drawer unlocked, I'd be the one in trouble.

I stood up, walked to the vanity, and reached out to close the drawer properly.

But the moment my fingers touched the handle—

A beam of silver light burst from the gap, stabbing my eyes with pain.

I gasped, instinctively wanting to pull back, but something stronger overwhelmed the fear. What is this...

My hand seemed to move on its own, pulling the drawer open.

In the drawer lay a silver crystal the size of a thumbnail, its surface rippling with dragon-shaped patterns of light, as if alive. The crystal emanated a heart-stopping powerful magic, each pulse distorting the air, making my heart beat in rhythm with it.

This can't be... this kind of power...

I reached out, my fingertips trembling as they approached the crystal's surface. Reason screamed at me to stop, but my hand had already touched it.

Instantly—

The world vanished.

My consciousness was sucked into a boundless silver void, nothing around me but endless silver light flowing like liquid starlight. I floated in this void, unable to feel my body, unable to feel gravity, unable to feel anything.

Then I saw Him.

Deep in the void, a massive Silver Dragon slumbered.

Oh God.

His body coiled and spiraled, each scale reflecting starlight like a mirror, wings folded at his sides, yet even folded they were large enough to blot out the sky. Storm winds brewed with each breath, every inhale making the void tremble.

I held my breath, not daring to make a sound, not even daring to think too loudly.

Then—

The dragon opened his eyes.

Those eyes were more brilliant than any gem, burning with eternal flames in their depths. Just being swept by that gaze, I felt my soul burning.

The dragon stared at me.

I stared at the dragon.

Time seemed to freeze. My thoughts went blank, leaving only primal, instinctive fear. Not the fear of Vespera's tantrums, not the fear of Lady Thorne's punishment. This was fear in the face of absolute power, an ant gazing up at a mountain, a mortal looking directly at a god.

The dragon didn't speak, but I felt an ancient, vast consciousness examining me—examining my soul, my past, my fears, my desires. It felt like being stripped of all pretense, all secrets laid bare.

Then, something flickered in the dragon's pupils.

Just as I thought I'd be crushed by this terrible force, reduced to dust in the void—

"Eileen! Eileen! Where are you!"

Lady Thorne's shrill voice came from downstairs, like an echo from another world.

I jolted awake to find myself still kneeling before the vanity, fingers pressed against that silver crystal. My hands were shaking, cold sweat soaking my back, heart pounding like it would burst from my chest.

I jerked my hand back in terror, and the crystal's light instantly dimmed.

Was that... a dream? A hallucination?

But my fingertips still held the crystal's warmth, those golden dragon eyes still gazing at me in my mind, leaving a burning afterimage. Something deep in my soul trembled, as if branded by some invisible mark.

"Eileen! Where are you hiding, you wretched girl!"

I hastily closed the drawer, my fingers slipping twice before securing the latch. I fled the room, stumbling, nearly hitting the doorframe.

Downstairs, Lady Thorne was still screaming something, but I couldn't hear a word. My mind held only those eyes, those golden, burning, all-seeing eyes.

The days after became blurred and chaotic. I only remember Vespera growing increasingly anxious, increasingly volatile, as if afraid of something.

Until that day.

Heavy hoofbeats thundered outside the manor, deafening, seeming to shake the windows. I froze, cloth dripping in my hand. Through the glass, I saw them: a squadron of knights in silver armor, horses' breath misting in the cold morning air, the Silver Sanctum's symbol blazing on their breastplates like a brand.

My heart stopped.

What are they doing here?

Lady Thorne's scream tore through the manor, shrill and terrified. "What are you doing?! This is Thorne territory!"

I dropped the cloth and bolted into the hallway, nearly tripping. Below, the grand entrance had descended into chaos. Knights were flooding through the doors, armor gleaming like ice in the morning light, spears held at ready.

The lead knight's voice cut through the commotion, cold and merciless. "By order of the Silver Sanctum, all members of House Thorne and their servants are to be taken to Sanctum Square immediately. You will face judgment."

Servants? The word hit me like a physical blow. They're taking everyone?

I watched numbly as they dragged Vespera from her bedroom. Her rose-purple dress—worth more than five years of my wages—trailed on the floor, collecting dust and debris. Her usually carefully arranged hair hung in wild tangles. She was screaming, clawing at the knights' gauntlets, her voice breaking. "You've made a mistake! I didn't do anything! Let me go!"

Lady Thorne lunged forward, trying to reach her daughter. A knight's spear shaft caught her across the temple. She crumpled like a puppet with cut strings.

What the hell is happening?