The elf’s horrified scream tore through the cave’s stillness.

  The deer carcass hit the stone floor with a wet, heavy thud, its legs splaying at unnatural angles. Blood pooled beneath it, dark and glistening in the torchlight that now lined the walls. The flames cast dancing shadows across the obsidian gateway, across the rough stone deeper within, and across the elf huddled in the darkness near the back wall.

  She did it.

  Barjuchne proudly stood over the fresh kill, her chest heaving from the hunt, her claws still dripping. She'd been planning this exact moment the entire way back. Playing it through her mind over and over. She would present the freshly hunted deer proudly to her guest to show she could provide for her and that she was safe here. They would talk and laugh about it, and then Barjuchne would prepare a proper meal. Something civilised. Something that would show she wasn't just a wild monster.

  She could do this. She could be a good host. Good hosts feed their guests.

  However, reality doesn’t match the scenario she had been running on replay in her imagination for the last hour. Instead, she'd panicked the moment she stepped inside and saw those wide, terrified witchcraft eyes staring at her from the shadows.

  Making eye contact with her destroyed every single image she had in her mind up until this point. The dragon girl froze, terrified. And so, like that, Barjuchne opened her mouth. The word that represents her entire delicately crafted scenario for tonight came out flat and cold.

  "Eat."

  The elf pressed herself harder against the wall, her silver hair tangled around her shoulders. She should say something. Apologise. Explain. But Barjuchne’s throat had closed up, and all she could do was stare, perhaps menacingly so.

  "I… I…" The elf's voice trembled. "I can't eat that. It's raw."

  Oh.

  Of course it was raw. What was she thinking? She wasn't thinking. That was the problem. Her mind was a mess of instinct and panic and the overwhelming terror of having another person in her space. Someone watching her. Judging her. Seeing how utterly incapable she was of basic social interaction.

  She needed to cook it. Obviously. Oh god, she’s blowing this.

  Before the elf could say another word, Barjuchne sucked in a breath and exhaled fire.

  The flames roared across the carcass in a wave of orange and gold, engulfing the deer in crackling heat. The elf screamed louder than before, throwing herself backward, her arms raised to shield her face from the lashing flames. The smell of charred meat filled the cave instantly, thick and smoky, and the deer’s carcass blackened under the assault, skin splitting and fat hissing.

  Barjuchne cut off the flames and straightened, smoke curling from her nostrils.

  "Eat," she said again.

  Why did she keep saying that? Why couldn't she just talk like a normal person? Just say something kind. Something reassuring.

  She was so bad at this.

  The elf stared at the smoking, ruined deer. Then she looked up at Barjuchne, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

  Barjuchne's stomach twisted.

  Oh. Right. The elf couldn't just… tear into it. Barjuchne extended one claw and slid it into the carcass, carving through muscle and sinew with ease. She pulled free a long strip of tenderloin, the meat blackened on the outside but still pink within, and held it out toward the elf. It dangled from her claw, dripping.

  The elf stared at it.

  Then, slowly, she reached out with shaking hands and took it from her captor, who really did only mean the best.

  Barjuchne watched her bite into it, chewing slowly, and felt a tiny spark of relief. At least she was eating. That was something. She still felt terrible, though.

  Wait.

  An idea sparked.

  Just as the elf reached out hesitantly for another piece that the dragon girl held out her way, Barjuchne pulled her hand back as if denying her it.

  The elf froze, her expression crumpling. "What… why are you doing this?" Her voice broke. Her ears drooped. She glanced around at the bones still scattered near the walls, her breathing quickening. "You don't have to torment me too."

  Torment?

  No. No, that wasn't -

  Barjuchne dropped to one knee and pressed her palm flat against the stone floor. She focused, reaching for the dungeon's presence, and felt it respond.

  The stone shifted beneath her touch, flowing and reshaping, rising from the ground in smooth, deliberate movements. A table formed between them, low and simple but solid. Then a chair. Then another.

  She stood and slapped the slice of meat unceremoniously down onto the table's surface, the wet sound echoing through the cave like a slap.

  "I am not tormenting you!" she roared. Her voice came out harder than she intended, edged with a dark and commanding tone.

  The elf flinched, still in terror.

  Barjuchne gestured to the bones near the wall. "Eat. Or you'll end up like them."

  It was supposed to be a joke. A light-hearted comment about the importance of not starving. But the moment the words left her mouth, she realised how they sounded. The elf's face went pale. She sat down quickly like a prisoner at their last meal, her hands fumbling with the meat, and took a small, trembling bite, crying as she chewed.

  Barjuchne turned away, pressing her clawed palms against her own face.

  This was a disaster. She was a kidnapper and, far worse, an ungracious host. She couldn't even manage a single conversation without making everything awkward. The elf probably thought she was going to be eaten. Or tortured. Or both.

  She wanted to scream.

  "There's… there's silverware in the cart," the elf said softly behind her. "May I -?"

  "- NO!"

  The word exploded from Barjuchne's throat before she could stop it. Her entire body went rigid, her claws flexing, her tail lashing. The thought of someone touching her silverware, her treasure, made something feral and possessive roar to life in her chest. It was hers. All of it was hers. Nobody could touch it. Nobody could use it.

  The elf made a small, frightened sound.

  Barjuchne squeezed her own eyes shut. What was wrong with her? It was just silverware. Just forks and knives. It didn't matter. But her dragon heart didn't care about logic. It only cared about ownership.

  She needed to fix this. Say something. Make a joke. Anything.

  This was a losing battle.

  Without another word, she turned and stalked toward the pile of treasure she'd dumped near the cave's entrance. The cart's goods were still there, scattered and waiting to be organised. She began sorting through them, stacking coins, arranging candlesticks, and laying bolts of cloth in neat rows. The work was soothing. Methodical. It gave her something to focus on that wasn't the crushing weight of her own social incompetence.

  When she finished, she climbed onto the pile and lay down on top of it, like a cat having found a warm stone.

  The coins pressed into her back, cool and solid and perfect. The tension in her chest eased, just a little. This, at least, made sense. This, she understood. This feels good.

  She closed her eyes and tried not to think about the elf sitting alone at the stone table behind her.

  Well. She wasn’t alone. She had the smouldering carcass.

  An ant crawled over the pile of gold.

  The days blurred together.

  Barjuchne hunted. She brought back food. She cooked it with varying degrees of success, sometimes managing something almost edible, sometimes reducing it to ash. The elf ate without complaint, though her eyes never lost that wary, haunted look.

  Barjuchne tried to talk to her. She failed every time.

  The skeletons bothered her.

  They were everywhere. Piled in the corners, scattered across the floor, a constant reminder of failure. Of death. Of the hundreds of others who had tried and died in this very cave to do what she is doing now. The elf's gaze drifted to them constantly, her expression unreadable but tense.

  She for sure thought that these bones were other victims of the dragon girl. It’s a fair assumption.

  Barjuchne couldn't stand it anymore.

  She started carrying them out one by one.

  The work was slow but steady. She lifted each skeleton carefully, cradling the bones in her arms, and carried them out into the forest beyond the obsidian gateway. The elf watched from the entrance, her off-nightshine eyes following every trip, but she didn't speak.

  Barjuchne dug graves in the soft parts of the mountainside. Her incredible strength made it easy. A few scoops with her claws, and the hole was deep enough. Not very deep, truth be told. Shallow and rough and hastily made. But it was better than leaving them inside.

  She laid the bones to rest and covered them with dirt.

  By the third day, the cave was empty of skeletons.

  The system chimed softly in her mind that night.

  She was lying on her treasure hoard, the elf asleep at the stone table with her head pillowed on her arms, when the window appeared.

  Barjuchne stared at the screen. She needed more. The treasure she'd taken from the bandits wasn't enough. She needed to find something bigger. Something valuable.

  And maybe another princess.

  Quietly, she rolled her head, looking at the ant princess she’s been feeding. The inside of the ant prison is filled with sticks and leaves and dead bugs. She didn’t actually know what it was ants ate.

  Her gaze drifted to the elf, still asleep in the corner, her silver hair spilling across the floor she slept on in a bundle. The dragon girl stared for a while. Then Barjuchne closed her eyes and tried to sleep herself.

  But she couldn’t.

  She opened her eyes again.

  The cold crept into the cave at night, seeping through the obsidian gateway and settling over the stone floor in a damp, clinging chill. The torches helped, their flames crackling and casting warm light across the walls, but they weren't enough. Barjuchne could see her captive shivering in her sleep, curled into a tight ball with her arms wrapped around herself.

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  Barjuchne stood over her treasure hoard and stared down at the rugs.

  They were beautiful. Thick, woven wool in deep reds and golds, soft to the touch, clearly expensive. They were hers. Part of her collection. The thought of anyone else touching them made her chest tighten and her claws flex involuntarily.

  But her guest was cold.

  And her guest was also hers. Technically. The elf was a part of the horde. Like the coins. Like the candlesticks. Two gold coins rubbing together didn't diminish their value or bother her, did it? This is the same concept.

  She grabbed the fabrics and carried them, stopping for a second to look at the sleeping elf again.

  Barjuchne stood there for a moment, staring down at the elf as she covered her and then turned and walked away before the urge to take the rugs back to the pile became unbearable.

  They both managed to sleep after that.

  The next day, she reshaped the cave.

  The dragon girl pressed her palm against the far wall and felt the dungeon's power respond. The stone flowed beneath her touch, carving inward, creating depth where there had been none. A doorway formed, smooth and arched, leading into a new chamber beyond.

  She spent hours on it. Shaping the walls until they were smooth and even. Creating a bed frame from solid stone, then softening its surface with more of the rugs she'd barely managed to part with. Every tiny thing she carried away from her primary horde felt like one of her own children she was setting out on the stoop, even if it was literally just one room over. A nightstand. A small table. She pulled books from the cart and stacked them neatly on the table's surface. Then, with every ounce of willpower she possessed, she retrieved exactly one plate, one fork, and one knife from her hoard and placed them on the nightstand.

  One of each. That was all she could bear to give.

  The stone responded to her palm the way she was beginning to expect it to: a slow, yielding surrender, the mountain letting her have her way. She pressed deeper, feeling the dungeon's awareness spread through the rock ahead of her like roots pushing into soil. New chambers took shape in her mind before she carved them. She already knew where the walls would go.

  Then the resistance changed.

  Not harder. Just different, in a way she couldn't quite name. The stone ahead of her palm held a faint memory of something worked into it long before she arrived, not carved by the dungeon's magic but shaped by something else entirely. She pushed through it anyway.

  On the far side of the newly opened wall, set back into the stone at roughly knee height, was a tiny alcove.

  She crouched and looked at it. It was roughly the size of a bread loaf, its interior smooth and deliberate, clearly intended to hold something. Whatever had been stored there was long gone. But the frame around the opening was decorated. Spiralling lines cut into the rock with extraordinary fineness, the kind of detail work that required very small tools or very small hands. The pattern looped and folded back on itself in a way that felt purposeful, almost architectural.

  She studied the curiosity for a moment. Then she pressed her palm against the opening and filled it in. It was likely a leftover from a previous inhabitant of the cave.

  She needed the space.

  When Barjuchne finished, she stepped back and examined her work. The standalone room was beautiful. It was far nicer than the rest of the cave. Almost civilised.

  She turned and found the kidnapped elf standing in the main chamber, watching her.

  "This is yours," Barjuchne said. The words came out too harsh, as always. "You stay in there when you tire of my company."

  She winced internally. That wasn't what she meant. She wanted to say something kind. Something welcoming. But her voice betrayed her again.

  The elf walked toward the doorway slowly, her head lowered. She stepped inside and stopped.

  Her eyes went wide.

  She turned slowly, taking in the smooth walls, the bed, the books, and the single piece of decoration setting on the nightstand. Her gaze lingered on the plate and fork and knife, and something in her expression shifted. Softened. She looked back at Barjuchne, confusion written across her face.

  Barjuchne said nothing. The dragon girl turned and walked away before she could be asked questions she didn't know how to answer.

  Many days passed.

  Barjuchne hunted. She brought back game.

  “Let me cook it,” said the elf one night. The dragon’s eyes narrowed. The elf lifted her hands. “There’s a pot in the carriage. Just make me a fire pit or something, okay? I’m bored. You’ve kept me in here for days now.”

  Barjuchne didn’t argue. She did feel bad about that. But what was she supposed to do? Just let her go?

  Never.

  As for her hoard, it didn't grow in value, but it did grow in size. Barjuchne found small things in the forest. She found more pretty stones. She found a deer skull with really interesting antlers. She even found a cluster of mushrooms that glowed faintly in the dark, although she didn’t take those with her. They had a weird energy to them. But there was nothing valuable-valuable. There wasn’t any loot that would satisfy the system's highly specific demands.

  And she certainly hadn't found a knight to eat. The ants won’t help her this time.

  The timer in the corner of her vision ticked down relentlessly.

  Barjuchne tried not to think about it.

  Night fell over the mountain, and the sky opened up above her in a field of stars.

  Barjuchne sat at the mouth of the cave, her legs dangling over the edge of the obsidian gateway, and stared up at the heavens. There was no light pollution here. No cities. No streetlamps. Just the forest and the mountain and the endless, glittering expanse above.

  She'd never seen so many stars.

  In her old life, the sky had been dull and orange-grey, washed out by the glow of the cities no matter how far away from them you tried to get. But here, the stars were sharp and bright and impossibly beautiful. It was mesmerising. It was as if they were the glowing eyes of a great spider, dangling up above and over the world. Constellations she didn't recognise stretched across the darkness, and the moon hung low and full, casting silver light over the treetops below.

  She could sit here forever and never grow tired of looking.

  Footsteps whispered against stone behind her. She didn't turn around. "If you stab me in the back, I will take the knife away again," warned Barjuchne.

  The footsteps stopped.

  "...I had thought about it," replied her guest quietly. “I won’t lie to you.”

  Barjuchne's thin tail flicked.

  The footsteps resumed, closer now, and the elven girl stepped into view at the edge of her vision. Then, she sat down next to her, a few feet away, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She looked up at the stars, her silver hair dangling back.

  Barjuchne's heart hammered in her chest.

  A conversation. She was going to have to have a conversation again. Oh gods, please no. Everything inside of her prayed the elf would go back into the cave and just stay there quietly. Forever.

  But in order to stop herself from putting her foot in her mouth for a change, Barjuchne abruptly made the tactical decision to just say nothing for as long as she can.

  The silence stretched between them, comfortable and warm despite the chill in the air.

  "If you're not going to eat me or… do anything," said a softly-spoken voice eventually, "then I still don't know what it is that you want from me."

  Barjuchne kept her gaze on the stars. She was committed to not making a peep of sound.

  "Do you think my father is going to pay a ransom to get me back?" asked the elf.

  The thought hadn't occurred to Barjuchne, actually. But now that she mentioned it, it was a wonderful idea. A ransom. Gold. Treasure. Barjuchne’s heart leapt at the possibility.

  Then, her companion let out a quiet sigh. "He won't."

  The hope deflated.

  They sat in silence again. The wind rustled through the trees below, carrying the scent of pine and damp soil.

  "I'm just a thing for him," she continued. She lifted one hand toward the sky, spreading her fingers and staring at the stars through the gaps. "Some bartering token, like anything else in his warehouse."

  The elf laughed weakly, shaking her head, but there was no humour in her exhalation.

  "I was actually supposed to be married off, you know? That's why I was with him travelling when we were ambushed on the way by those highwaymen." She made a face, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "Father betrothed me to some knight from Valdisheim I've only seen once. But I saw enough to know that he's disgusting.” Barjuchne blinks, confused. “But my father wanted me to marry him so that he could sneak his influence into the lower noble courts. I was trapped."

  Her voice grew quieter, tinged with bitterness.

  "I suppose that I was stolen from one monster by another." It was silent for a time, then she glanced sideways at Barjuchne. "But, you know, I’ve come to think that you’re not… so bad. Even if you are a little scary."

  That’s good. That sounds like a good thing.

  This conversation is going great. It seemed like the key to social success was to withdraw your personality entirely. Who knew?

  Barjuchne's heart was beating so fast she thought it might explode. She couldn't sweat, not in this form, but if she could, she would be drenched. Her exterior remained calm. Unmoved. A frightening facade that betrayed exactly nothing. She was, externally, as frigid and unmoved as the mountain itself.

  "So, what is it you do here, exactly?" she asked the dragon girl.

  ‘Okay. Slow. Steady. Easy. Don’t panic; just answer the question factually.’ This is what Barjuchne said to herself in her thoughts so that she wouldn’t make a blunder again. She forced herself to speak. This time, she took it very slowly before responding.

  "I take things that I want." Barjuchne looked at her, hoping to explain that she’s just living out her days, following her draconic instincts. She didn’t mean any harm, really. Instead, it comes out differently. "I wanted gold. I took gold. I wanted you. I took you. Both glint the same to my eyes."

  The words hung in the air.

  …Oh no.

  That sounded terrible. She didn't mean it like that.

  The elven girl’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, visible even in the moonlight. She turned her head away, averting her surprised gaze.

  Barjuchne screamed internally.

  She had to stop this. Had to say something else. Something better. She looked back at her conversational partner, gathering every ounce of strength she possessed. This was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. Every instinct in her body fought against it. But she forced the words out anyway.

  "But -" She paused. "Leave, if you want. You are free to choose your monster."

  With this, Barjuchne had meant to say the elf was free to go if she really wanted to. It was fine.

  Silence fell over them. Her guest stared at her, eyes wide in surprise.

  Then, Barjuchne stood quickly, turning back toward the cave. She couldn't be here when the elf left. If she stayed here and watched her go, her dragon instincts would take over, and she'd try to steal her back before the merchant’s daughter got down the mountainside. She’d definitely drag her back inside and lock her away.

  But that wasn't right. She was a dragon, yes. But there was still a human half in her somewhere, wasn’t there? Its voice was getting quieter every night, but it still lived in her heart.

  "Protect me."

  The words were abrupt and they stopped Barjuchne in her tracks.

  The dragon girl felt a hand close around her clawed fingers. Warm. Trembling. Confused, she looked down. The merchant’s daughter was staring up at her, her violet eyes wide and earnest.

  "My father won't come for me," the elven girl said. "But my fiancé will." She shook her head quickly, her silverfish-shimmer hair tussling from side to side. "But I don't want to go with him!" Her voice cracked, desperate and pleading. "Promise you'll keep me safe from him, and I'll stay here with you. Willingly. I won't fight you. I won't try to run away,” she bargains. “I'll do whatever you want!"

  She spoke faster, as if afraid Barjuchne would leave before she finished out of disinterest. She leaned in.

  "I'll even help you get more treasure. I grew up in the mercantile trade. I know things. I know where valuable things are. You want that, right?" she pleaded. “Please!” She crawled forward. “Don’t send me back out there!”

  …Huh?

  Was this knight-fiancé of hers that bad of a person that she would rather stay here? How bad could he really be?

  Awkwardly, Barjuchne stared down at the merchant’s daughter, who was clinging to her, confused. The gaunt elven hand in her own was so small. So warm in contrast. The reptilian sensors in her cold-blooded brain took great pleasure in the feeling of external heat from her body warmth.

  "I am Barjuchne," she said slowly. Formally. "The last dragon."

  It was an introduction. And a warning. This is likely extremely dangerous. Forget the knight. Just being near her could be a disaster down the road. This was clearly a dangerous world and she herself was very likely a very dangerous thing.

  "I’m Veliah," the elf replied. "Veliah, of Jaesownen Vale."

  After weeks together, this was the first time she'd said her name.

  Barjuchne bent down, reaching out to lift Veliah's chin with her free hand. She looked into those wide prismatic eyes that seemed out of place in the forest landscapes. They were the same shade of dark shine as the sky just around the radius of the glowing stars above.

  "I suggest that you leave. Because if you want to stay, then you’ll stay with me forever," Barjuchne explained plainly. Her voice was low. Serious. "As one of many treasures. You will be mine, and I will have to kill your betrothed if he comes."

  With this earnest statement, she really wanted Veliah to understand and to really think about the situation. The last thing she wanted was for the elf to get stuck in this mess that she's involved in even more than she already is. Barjuchne wanted Veliah to really know the depths of what she was agreeing to here. But the words came out wrong again, didn't they?

  A dragon’s mouth just can’t seem to fit human words and thoughts inside of itself.

  The air between them crackled with something electric and deeply awkward.

  Veliah's breath hitched, her palm slipping free.

  "I… I accept," she whispered, clasping her hands together after a moment’s longer contemplation. "I would rather choose my fate with you as your bride myself rather than have a life chosen for me elsewhere."

  ‘Bride’?

  What? Wait. No. That’s not what she meant at all. Barjuchne stares wild-eyed like a man abruptly asked to take responsibility after a one-night stand gone wrong. For a second, the dragon girl thinks about jumping over the elf and escaping out into the night. But then she’d have to leave her treasure behind.

  Impossible.

  Slowly, the elf Veliah rose to her feet and stood there in front of Barjuchne. "Dragon… Barjuchne. I promise myself to you in body and soul as of now, forever," Veliah continued, "- conditioned on the honour of your word to keep me safe."

  And then she leaned in.

  Her lips pressed against Barjuchne's mouth, soft and warm and, of course, utterly unexpected.

  Barjuchne froze. Every alarm in her mind went off at once. In essence, the sound of a submarine’s alarm went off on repeat in the back of her mind. Her heart stopped. Her breath caught. Her entire body locked up. Her mind transitioned into a blank void of hissing white noise and panic that had no outlet to release from except for the blaring of an internal scream that never stopped.

  What was happening?

  Why was this happening?

  And moreover, what was she supposed to do?

  She didn’t know, but she didn’t need to. Once more, the dragon side of her worked independently of the fragments of her human mind. Her hands moved on their own, reaching up to hold Veliah, pulling her closer. Her lips, or the closest approximation to such that she had, moved against Veliah's, tentative and unsure, but responding. Kissing her back.

  When they finally pulled apart, Barjuchne's mind was still a scrambled mess.

  "Then it is a pact," replied the dragon girl quickly. She narrowed her eyes, suddenly seizing on something that had been said. How did she miss this? "...Wait. He was a knight, you said?"

  Veliah blinked, still flushed and breathless as she was held. "What?"

  "Your old fiancé. He's a knight?" the dragon girl Barjuchne asked again, just to be sure.

  "Yes. From Valdisheim. Why?" replied Veliah, staring at her, embarrassed.

  Barjuchne's mind was already racing. A knight. That’s just what she needed. Plus, knights served lords. Lords had treasures. She wanted treasures. And, more excitingly, lords had princesses. She wanted a real one, just for the sake of her pride, at this point. The whole ant thing was pretty sketchy, and now she had a girl whose dad called her ‘princess’ as a nickname. It was hardly better.

  A slow, sharp and predatory smile spread across her face.

  "Theoretically speaking, would you be sad if I ate him?” asked Barjuchne.

  “...Pardon me?” asked Veliah.

  “Don’t worry about it,” replied the dragon girl quickly, and then hoisted the abruptly surprised elf up over her shoulder as she headed back inside to drop her bride back onto the heap of treasures on top of which she now belonged.

  A disturbed rat escaped from the cave, finding peace outside in the forests. In its panic, it ran into a mushroom circle and then simply vanished into thin air.

  How strange.

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