The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch
Chapter 38: The Ancient Dragons

Chapter 38: The Ancient Dragons

The palace was silent at this hour.

Morgana moved through the shadows like a ghost, keeping to the edges of the corridors, avoiding the torchlight and the night watch.

She’d memorized their routes by now, knew which hallways were safe, which staircases to avoid.

The far tower was on the opposite side of the palace grounds, past the gardens, beyond the training yards.

It loomed against the night sky, tall and ancient and dark, its stones weathered by centuries.

Morgana stopped at the edge of the courtyard, staring up at it.

There were guards at the main entrance. Two of them, armored and armed, standing perfectly still.

She couldn’t go that way.

But Garrick had mentioned something once, an old servants’ passage that led beneath the tower. A remnant from when the tower had been used for storage, before it became a sanctuary for the ancient ones.

Morgana circled the perimeter, searching.

And there....half-hidden behind a tangle of ivy, was a narrow door, old and rusted.

She pulled at the handle.

It didn’t budge.

She pulled harder, gritting her teeth, and finally, finally it gave way with a groan.

The passage beyond was dark and narrow, the air thick with dust and the smell of damp stone.

Morgana hesitated for only a moment.

Then she stepped inside.

The passage wound downward, deeper into the earth, before rising again in a steep, spiraling staircase.

Morgana climbed, her breath coming in short gasps, her legs burning.

The staircase seemed to go on forever.

But finally, it ended at another door, this one heavy and iron-bound.

She pushed it open.

And stepped into the tower.

The space was enormous.

The ceiling soared overhead, disappearing into shadow. Massive stone pillars supported the structure, and the walls were lined with ancient carvings, dragons in flight, dragons at war, dragons curled around mountains.

But it was what stood in the center of the chamber that stole her breath.

Three dragons.

They were massive.

Larger than anything Morgana had ever imagined. Each one was easily the size of a house, their bodies coiled and restrained by thick iron chains that were bolted into the stone floor and walls.

Their scales gleamed in the faint moonlight that streamed through the high, narrow windows, one dragon was deep crimson, its hide scarred and weathered; another was pale silver, its wings torn and patched with old wounds; and the third....

The third was gold.

Molten, burning gold, like the sun itself had been forged into flesh and scale.

It was the largest of the three, and it lay coiled in the center, its massive head resting on its claws.

All three of them were furious.

The crimson dragon thrashed against its chains, snarling and snapping at the air. The silver one paced, its claws scraping against the stone, its wings beating uselessly.

And the golden one...

It was still.

But its eyes were open.

Burning.

Watching.

Morgana took a step back, her heart hammering.

What am I doing here?

I should leave.

I should...

The golden dragon’s head lifted.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

And it looked directly at her.

Morgana froze.

The dragon’s eyes were molten gold...ancient, knowing, intelligent.

It stared at her for a long moment.

And then it inhaled.

A long, deep breath, as if it were scenting the air.

The other two dragons fell silent.

The crimson one stopped thrashing.

The silver one stopped pacing.

They both turned toward her.

And stared.

Morgana’s pulse spiked.

Run.

You need to run.

But her feet wouldn’t move.

The golden dragon shifted, its massive body uncoiling, and took a step toward her.

The chains rattled.

Morgana’s breath hitched.

It’s going to kill me.

But the dragon didn’t attack.

It just... moved closer.

One step.

Then another.

Until it was standing directly in front of her, its massive head lowering until it was level with hers.

Morgana couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

The dragon’s nostrils flared, and it inhaled again....deeply, deliberately.

Then it made a sound.

Low.

Rumbling.

Almost like a... purr?

Morgana’s eyes widened.

Slowly....so slowly, she raised a trembling hand.

Don’t.

Don’t touch it.

It will kill you.

But something inside her, something deep and primal and undeniable, needed to.

Her fingers brushed the dragon’s snout.

The scales were warm. Impossibly warm, like touching the surface of the sun.

The dragon closed its eyes.

And leaned into her touch.

Morgana’s breath came out in a shaky exhale.

Behind the golden dragon, the other two had stopped moving entirely.

They were watching her.

Silent.

Still.

Reverent.

"What are you?" Morgana whispered.

The golden dragon rumbled again, a sound that vibrated through her entire body.

And then....

Footsteps.

Morgana’s head snapped toward the sound.

Someone was coming.

She yanked her hand back and spun around.

A figure stood in the doorway....tall, dark-haired, his expression frozen in shock.

Thorne.

"What in the gods’ names are you doing?" he said, his voice low and sharp.

Morgana’s throat closed.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Thorne stepped into the chamber, his dark eyes flicking from her to the dragons and back again.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?" he demanded. "These are ancient ones. Warriors from the old wars. They’ve been feral for centuries. They’ve killed...."

He stopped.

Because the golden dragon had turned its massive head toward him.

And growled.

Not a purr.

A growl.

Low. Threatening. Protective.

Thorne froze.

His gaze snapped back to Morgana, and for the first time, she saw something in his eyes that looked almost like fear.

"Step away from her," he said quietly. "Slowly."

"I...I don’t think it wants me to," Morgana whispered.

"It doesn’t want..." Thorne stopped himself, his jaw tightening. "Morgana. Step. Away."

The golden dragon’s growl deepened.

And then the crimson one joined in.

Then the silver.

All three of them, growling, their eyes fixed on Thorne.

He raised his hands slowly. "I’m not going to hurt her."

The dragons didn’t move.

Thorne’s gaze locked onto Morgana’s. "What did you do?"