The freezing stone of the maintenance tunnel was a far better companion than the gilded prison of the Obsidian Suite.
Draven lay wrapped in a thick, rough wool blanket, deep inside the cold, narrow passage that snaked beneath the Citadel. He was injured not by the Vampire guards, but by the sheer, draining force of using his concentrated thermal power against General Seraph's silvered armor. The General was dead, but the attack had cost Draven his only effective disguise and left him fighting the exhaustion that always followed a large exertion of Dragon strength.
He was built for brute-force conflict, for turning armies to ash, not for hiding in the dark. His large, heavily built body ached for the freedom of flight, and the constant stillness was torture.
He knew Damon was searching. Damon's speed and calculating mind made him the perfect predator. Draven knew he had only a few days before Damon concluded that 'Kael' was a dead end and began hunting the tunnels with magical tracking.
Draven heard the soft, familiar click of the wardrobe panel opening. Isolde was there.
He slid forward silently, his body scraping against the stone. He could smell the lingering perfume of the Obsidian Suite and the metallic, crisp scent of her fear.
Isolde was peering into the dark opening, her face pale in the dim light filtering from her room. She held a small, dark object in her hand.
"Draven," she whispered, the sound tight with terror and urgency. "You cannot stay here. Damon will find you. He is furious."
"I am aware of my circumstances, princess," Draven replied, his voice a low, rough rasp. "Your signal was received. Seraph is ash. What is the next target? The Queen's chamber?"
Isolde shook her head quickly, her eyes wide. "No. The plan has changed. I am not the only one who found you useful. You have been recruited."
She reached her hand into the opening, holding out a small, tightly wrapped packet. It was heavy, and it smelled strangely of mint and earth.
"Take this first," she ordered. "It is Iron-Leaf Rue. It is a Witch counter-agent. You must keep it on you. If Damon or any other powerful Vampire tries to lock eyes with you, it will disrupt their power to manipulate or command you. It is the only thing that will protect you from their mental games."
Draven took the packet, the raw, earthy scent a strange comfort in the cold tunnel air. He felt the weight of the dark herb in his palm. It was the defensive weapon his brute strength and speed could never provide. It confirmed that Isolde had access to secrets beyond the Vampire court's knowledge.
"And the price for this gift?" Draven asked, suspicion narrowing his eyes.
"Nyx," Isolde breathed the name, making it sound like a curse. "She knows you are here. She knows I resisted Damon's probe. She believes I am her asset to use against her brother. This is her demand."
Isolde reached into the tunnel again, this time with a small, rolled-up parchment.
"She wants you to breach the armory sub-levels beneath the old training yards. She believes Damon is hoarding ancient artifacts there. Specifically, the Scepter of Night."
Draven took the parchment and unfurled it slowly. It was a crude, but detailed map of the armory's access points.
"She wants me to be her thief," Draven stated, his voice a low growl of pure offense. His hands, massive and powerful, clenched around the parchment. "I did not come here to be a servant to the enemy's ambitious sister. I came here for vengeance."
"This is not about vengeance, Draven, it is about survival," Isolde insisted, her voice gaining a desperate strength. "Vampires are faster and more calculating than us. Damon's speed is his weapon, and his mind is sharper than any blade. You cannot win against him by thinking only with brute force. You need strategy. Nyx is the strategy."
"I do not serve Vampires," Draven repeated, the heat of his Dragon blood rising in protest.
"You don't serve her, you use her!" Isolde countered, leaning into the tunnel opening, her face inches from his. "She offers us a kvey... the key to the fastest escape route out of the Citadel, out of Noctis entirely. We get the freedom to rebuild your army, Draven.
She gets the crown. The world is better with Nyx in control than Damon."
Draven looked at the map, then back at Isolde. Her eyes, normally so cautious, were now burning with the raw fire of calculation and self-preservation. She was right. His initial, direct assassination plan had failed to kill Damon and had only resulted in him being trapped. He needed to change his tactics from simple brute force to political manipulation.
"The Scepter of Night," Draven murmured, his mind already calculating the thermal resistance of the armory walls. "Why does she need it?"
"It is a symbol of absolute power," Isolde explained. "With it, she can force the Queen to abdicate, seizing control before Damon returns from his wild goose chase. She is using the chaos you created to stage a coup. And we are her useful tools."
Draven slowly nodded. The logic was cold, sharp, and undeniable. It grated against his honor, but it was the only path out.
"Fine," Draven conceded, his voice heavy with reluctant decision. "Tell her I will breach the armory. I will take the Scepter. But I will do it my way. And when the time comes for the exchange, she will give me the key first. If she betrays us, I will burn her Citadel to the ground before I leave."
"I will tell her," Isolde confirmed. "But there is something else you must know. The armory is deep. It is guarded by Vampires of high strength..signaling their ability to manipulate. You must keep the Iron-Leaf Rue close."
"I will. And you," Draven paused, his gaze fixing on hers. "You survived Damon's probe. The raw force of a Pureblood in a rage. How?"
Isolde touched the side of her temple. "My mind fought back. I think... I think the tonic the Queen gave me awakened something. I don't control it, but when Damon attacked my mind, I instinctively built a wall."
Draven's expression softened into
something profound and dangerous. "The Witch lineage is stirring. It is a terrible gift, Isolde. It means you are stronger than any of them, but also that you are the most dangerous prize in this Citadel."
He reached out, his warm, strong hand briefly covering hers where she held the herb. "Be careful, Isolde. If they realize what you are, Nyx will simply trade you to the Dragon Kingdom for the Scepter. You are now the highest target of all."
With that, Draven retracted his hand. The light from the room vanished as Isolde softly closed the wardrobe panel. The passage was dark, cold, and utterly silent.