Streets of Ravetham

As Kaelen stirred from his place on the jet, his mind still foggy, the first thing he noticed was Seraphis. She stood near the bed, her body nearly exposed, save for the natural, biological scales that clung to her in patches. The armor-like scales offered minimal protection, covering her shoulders and limbs but doing little to shield her modesty. Kaelen’s heart raced at the sight—she was draped in the remnants of her draconic transformation, wild and untamed.

Flustered, Kaelen quickly rose to his feet, yanking the cover from his bed in a hasty attempt to shield her. He threw the blanket over Seraphis, hoping to give her some semblance of decency, but she snarled in protest. With a quick, forceful motion, she threw the cover aside as though it offended her very nature. Her red eyes, sharp and primal, met his with a fierce intensity that sent a chill down his spine.

Without a word, Kaelen turned and left the room, his mind racing. He could hear Seraphis stalking behind him, her steps almost predatory. Then, in a low, guttural tone, she spoke, her voice raw and demanding.

“I want meat. Give me meat.”

Her words were more a command than a request. Glancing back, Kaelen saw the hunger in her eyes, the way her gaze darted around the room like a hunter looking for prey. Though she had taken on a humanoid form, Seraphis was far from normal. Her instincts were still deeply rooted in her dragon heritage.

As they entered the kitchen, the scent of roasting meat filled the air. Maids moved gracefully around the space, preparing dishes and setting the table. The contrast between their polished, refined movements and Seraphis' untamed presence was almost jarring. Valerian sat at the head of the dining table, a goblet of blood in his hand. The dark crimson liquid shimmered as he took a slow, deliberate sip, his eyes never leaving his son.

Seraphis, meanwhile, ignored all decorum. The moment a platter of meat was placed on the table, she pounced on it, tearing into the food with savage brutality. Her claws ripped into the rare steaks, blood dripping down her chin as she devoured the meal like a beast unleashed.

Kaelen, still trying to piece together the events that had led him here, turned to his father, desperation in his voice. "What happened to me? Why do I have this emblem on my chest? And... who is that?" He gestured toward Seraphis, who was gnawing on a bone, utterly indifferent to their conversation.

Valerian set down his goblet with an elegant precision, a faint smile curving at his lips. “You two are now and forever bonded,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “She is the result of your pact with Zagoth’s sister.”

The words hit Kaelen like a hammer. The memories of the ritual came flooding back—the terrifying presence of Zagoth, the revelation that his sister needed a true name to fully awaken. And then he remembered Seraphis speaking her name when he had first regained consciousness. It all began to make sense now.

As Kaelen processed this, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw Zeke’s name flashing on the screen. He answered, trying to steady his voice.

"Are you clocking in today, or was that kid on the news telling the truth about beating you up?" Zeke’s voice came through, direct as always.

Kaelen’s jaw clenched as he recalled Vex boasting to the cops about their encounter. He took a deep breath. “I might have to quit, Zeke. My life is insane right now, and I don’t know if I can keep up with work.”

There was a brief silence before Zeke’s irritated grunt came over the line. “No need to quit, just take however long you need. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Surprised by the offer, Kaelen responded, “Thanks, boss. I appreciate it.” He hung up, the weight of the situation still heavy on his shoulders. He needed advice, so he immediately dialed Loren’s number.

She answered almost immediately. “How can I help you?” Her voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension that Kaelen could sense.

Without thinking, he blurted out, “I made a pact with a dragon, and now she’s refusing to wear clothes. The maids are trying, but nothing’s working. What should I do?”

The line went silent for what felt like an eternity. Loren’s response, when it finally came, was blunt. “You’ve got two choices: do nothing or force her to comply.”

Kaelen grimaced. “Can’t you handle it when we get back?”

This time, Loren’s pause was longer and more deliberate. Her voice, barely audible, whispered back, “No.” She hung up before Kaelen could say another word.

For a moment, Kaelen simply stared at his phone, the reality of the situation sinking in. He realized that he had been relying on Loren far too much. This was something he would have to handle on his own.

Steeling himself, Kaelen turned back to Seraphis, who had finished her meal and was now staring at him expectantly. “You need to wear clothes,” he said, his voice firm.

To his surprise, Seraphis didn’t resist. “I will,” she growled. “But you must put them on me.”

Kaelen hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. The maids soon arrived with a frilled dress, deep purple silk with lace trim, something straight out of a wealthy aristocrat’s wardrobe. The material shimmered in the low light, giving it a regal, yet outdated feel.

Kaelen had never dressed anyone before, especially not someone like Seraphis, but he set to the task. He fumbled at first, awkwardly helping her into the dress, adjusting the fabric around her shoulders and waist. The contrast between her wild, untamed form and the elegant attire was striking. When it came time to help her with the undergarments, he suppressed a wave of embarrassment. Seraphis remained still, watching him with unblinking eyes as he worked.

Once fully dressed, Seraphis looked transformed. The frilled dress clung to her body, the dark purple fabric flowing elegantly around her. Her feral nature was still evident in her sharp claws and wild, pink hair, but now she looked more like a spoiled aristocrat than a savage beast. Her bare feet, however, remained a problem—none of the shoes they had could fit her clawed toes.

Valerian, watching the transformation unfold, gave a dismissive wave. “No one will care about her feet,” he said with a chuckle. “They’ll be too busy trying to figure out what she is.”

His expression grew more serious, though, as he turned to Kaelen. “Never speak her true name out loud again. From now on, call her Sera. And, for your efforts, Zagoth rewarded you with ten million dollars.”

The weight of those words hit Kaelen like a freight train. Ten million dollars. He glanced at Seraphis—no, Sera—and realized that his life had taken a turn he could have never anticipated.