Dragon System

Chapter 3 C – Shadows Before Dawn

The fire was almost out. Only a dull orange glow flickered from the embers, shadows crawling across the walls like restless spirits. The night was long, and silence pressed down on them, heavy and suffocating.

Desmond sat with his back against the cold stone, listening. Dogs still barked in the distance. Somewhere, a drunk shouted.

The city was alive, even while he and the three women were trapped in this fragile circle of mistrust. The system’s voice pulsed again in his skull:

[Time Remaining: 3 hours, 52 minutes.]

[Trust Progress: 22%. Requirement not met.]

A shiver crept down his spine. He couldn’t let this slip away. He looked at them one by one: Lysandra sharpening a splinter of wood as if it were a blade.

Selene perched like a queen even on broken stone, Mira hugging her knees to her chest with soft eyes that held both fear and longing.

He drew a steadying breath. “We can’t just sit in silence until dawn.”

Lysandra’s gaze snapped to him first, sharp as a dagger. “Talk wastes strength,” she muttered.

“Or builds it,” Desmond countered quietly. “Strength isn’t only fists and blades. Sometimes it’s trust.”

Her lips curved into a cold smirk. “Trust is a blade between the ribs if you give it to the wrong person.”

He tilted his head. “You speak like someone who’s learned that the hard way.”

Her eyes flashed, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she leaned closer, voice lower. “My father trusted the wrong ally. He was poisoned in his sleep. The general who taught me never to bow… killed like a dog.”

Desmond’s chest tightened. He hadn’t expected her to share that much. “You want revenge,” he said softly.

“Not want,” she corrected. “Need. It’s the only thing that keeps me breathing.” Her gaze pinned him. “If you get in the way of that, I’ll cut you down myself.”

Her thoughts hissed: “…but if he can survive, if he can become more, maybe I could use him. Maybe I could… rely on him.”

Desmond met her glare without flinching. “Then let me prove I can be more than in your way.”

The system chimed: [Trust Progress: +7%. Current total: 29%.]

Lysandra turned her face away, but her hand stilled on the wooden shard. She hadn’t dismissed him this time.

Selene laughed softly from her stone perch, the sound like brittle glass. “So the soldier’s daughter bares her scars. How touching. Should I weep now, or wait until dawn?”

Desmond sighed. “You mock because you’re afraid to show anything real.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Afraid?”

“Yes. You sit here, arrogant, untouchable. But pride is just armor.” He shifted closer. “What are you hiding under it?”

Her silence stretched long enough that he thought she’d refuse. Then, in a low hiss: “My mother. She was forced to wed a man beneath her, my father.

A merchant, not a noble. She withered for it, day by day, until she died. And every noble still whispers about the shame of her fall.”

Her jaw tightened. “I will never be her. I will never settle for less than I deserve.”

Desmond swallowed. “And you think I’m less.”

Her laugh was bitter. “You are less.” But her thoughts betrayed her: “…yet something in him resists breaking. He doesn’t beg. He doesn’t crawl. That terrifies me more than being with him.”

He leaned in. “Then prove me wrong. Watch me rise. If I stay the same, hate me. But if I grow stronger… will you still call me less?”

Her lips parted, words caught in her throat. She turned away sharply, but the system’s voice rang in his skull:

[Trust Progress: +6%. Current total: 35%.]

The quiet stretched after Selene withdrew. Mira’s soft gaze met his, hesitant but steady. “You… you’re different,” she whispered. “When you speak to them, it’s like you see through their walls.”

Desmond gave a faint smile. “Maybe because I’ve lived behind walls too.”

She tilted her head. “What kind of walls?”

He hesitated. The truth pressed heavy. “I never knew my parents. I grew up with nothing, no name, no one. When people saw me, they saw a fool. Weird. Worthless.” His voice cracked. “And I believed them. Until tonight.”

Mira’s eyes glistened. She reached out, fingertips brushing his hand. “You’re not worthless.”

Warmth surged through him at the contact. He could feel her trembling, but she didn’t pull away.

Her thoughts echoed with raw honesty: “…if he protects me, maybe I can give him something no one else ever gave, belief.”

The system chimed again: [Trust Progress: +10%. Current total: 45%.]

The embers hissed as they died, plunging the room into near-darkness. Outside, the first faint gray touched the horizon.

The system’s warning pulsed louder, colder: [Time Remaining: 2 hours, 11 minutes.  Trust Requirement Not Yet Met.]

Desmond clenched his fists. They were opening up to him, one by one, but dawn would test if these fragile threads of trust were enough to bind them together… or let everything shatter.

And outside, boots crunched against cobblestones. Guards, drawing nearer. The long night was almost over.