"I forbid it."
The voice wasn't just a sound; it was a vibration that shook my very soul.
"Do you hear me? I am your King, and I forbid you to die!"
I tried to answer, but my lungs felt like they were filled with crushed glass. I was lying in the cold ash of a ruined palace, staring up at a sky that had turned a poisonous shade of purple. The air smelled of iron, smoke, and a magic so ancient it made my skin crawl.
The man holding me was a giant. He was draped in armor made of black dragon scales, now cracked and slick with my blood. On his head sat a crown of jagged bone, but it was his eyes that burned into my memory—they were glowing gold, like twin suns trapped in a storm.
"I will find you," he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine. His tears were scalding hot on my face. "I will tear through every world. I will burn the stars to ash. No matter what face you wear, I am coming for you."
"Valerius..." I choked out, the name tasting like ancient history on my tongue.
"You owe me a life!" he roared at the sky, his voice cracking the stone walls around us. "And I always collect my debts!"
Then, the world shattered.
I bolted upright in bed, gasping for air as if I were still drowning in smoke.
I wasn't in a palace. I was in my tiny, fourth-floor studio apartment. The only thing "burning" was the smell of car exhaust coming through the vent from the street below.
"Just a dream," I whispered, clutching my chest. My heart was thundering so hard I thought it would crack a rib. "It's just that dream again. Calm down, Ava."
I checked my phone. 3:33 AM. The exact same time as last night. And the night before.
I lived a boring life. I was Ava, a twenty-three-year-old with a dead-end job at a cafe, a pile of student loans, and a sink full of dirty dishes. I didn't know any kings. I definitely didn't know how to die for one.
I got out of bed, my feet hitting the cold floorboards. I needed water to wash away the taste of iron. But as I walked into the kitchen, I stopped dead.
The window was wide open. I knew for a fact I had locked it before bed.
I looked down. Lying on the floor was a single, black scale. It was the size of a coin, shimmering with a dark, oily light. I picked it up, and my breath hitched.
It was warm. It felt like it had a heartbeat.
Suddenly, the air in the kitchen turned hot. The smell of the city vanished, replaced by the scent of woodsmoke and expensive cedarwood.
Scritch. Scritch.
Someone was on my fire escape.
I grabbed a heavy frying pan from the stove, my hands shaking. "I have a gun!" I yelled at the window. I was lying, but I was desperate.
The window didn't just open. It melted.
The glass turned into liquid and dripped onto the floor like hot wax. A massive hand, covered in a black metal glove, gripped the frame. A man stepped into my kitchen, his head nearly hitting the ceiling fan.
He was the man from my dream.
He was covered in ash and blood, looking like a god of war who had just walked through a furnace. His golden eyes locked onto mine, and the world seemed to tilt.
"Ava," he rasped. His voice made the water in my glass ripple.
I backed away until I hit the fridge. "Who are you? Stay back!"
He didn't stay back. He took a heavy step toward me, his boots cracking the linoleum. He reached out and touched my neck, right over a small birthmark I'd had since I was a baby.
The mark began to glow bright red. It burned like a hot iron.
"You're late," he whispered, leaning down until his lips were inches from mine.
"I've come to collect what's mine."
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