I sit on the edge of the infirmary bed, the thin, sterile sheet crinkling beneath me as I stare at the floor. It's cold here—too cold for a place meant for healing. Every breath feels like I'm breathing in ice, like it's gnawing at my skin from the inside out. My body aches. Every muscle, every bone, feels wrong, like I've been ripped apart and sewn back together by someone with no idea what they're doing. I can still feel the ghost of her hands on me—the torturer's—her voice echoing in my head like a twisted lullaby.
But I don't have time to dwell on that. I don't have time to sit here, trapped in this bed, waiting for the next nightmare to consume me. Seraphina. The thought of her name snaps me out of my haze. She's still out there, still in that cold, hard cell.
My fingers twitch, itching to move, to do something—anything—but it's like my body is weighed down by lead. I glance at the door of the infirmary. It's slightly ajar, the faint sound of voices drifting in from the hallway. One of the guards assigned to "watch" me is posted outside, but he's probably just as relaxed as the other times. They think I'm too broken to try anything. They think I'm too weak to run.
They're wrong.
I push myself off the bed slowly, testing my legs as they tremble beneath me. Pain shoots through my limbs, sharp and unrelenting, but I grit my teeth and shove it down. I can't afford to show weakness, not now. I have to get out of here. I have to get to my mother—the Lyric. She'll know what to do. She's the queen, the most powerful person in the entire dragon community, and no one will stand in her way when she finds out what's happened.
Seraphina's face flashes in my mind—her bright eyes, her smile, the way she always tried to stay strong even when things were bad. Even when they hurt her. My stomach twists at the memory, bile rising in my throat, but I swallow it down. I won't let them win. I won't let them destroy her.
I take a deep breath and force my feet to move, one step at a time, toward the door. Every step feels like agony, but I keep going. There's a window of opportunity, and I have to take it. If I wait too long, if I hesitate, it's over.
I peek through the crack in the door, just enough to see the guard leaning lazily against the wall. He's bored, completely uninterested in the idea that I might be planning something. After all, who would expect a battered, broken prince to try and escape in the dead of night?
I reach out and push the door open just a fraction more, making sure not to make a sound. The hinges groan ever so slightly, but the guard doesn't notice. He's too busy staring off into space, probably counting down the minutes until his shift ends. Perfect.
My heart pounds in my chest as I slip through the door, my breath coming in shallow, quiet gasps. Every muscle is screaming at me to stop, to turn back, to crawl back into bed and pretend like everything will be okay. But I know better. I know that if I don't act now, Seraphina will suffer. And I can't let that happen.
I inch my way down the hallway, sticking to the shadows, moving as quietly as I can. The academy is massive, its stone walls stretching high above me, casting long, dark shadows that I use to my advantage. My footsteps are light, almost soundless, but every creak of the floor beneath me sends a spike of panic racing through my veins. I have to stay calm. I have to stay focused.
I've snuck around this place enough times to know the layout, but this time feels different. This time, I'm not sneaking out for some harmless prank or to avoid a lecture. This time, my life—and hers—depends on it.
I pass through the first corridor without issue, the silence almost unnerving. The guards have changed their patrols recently, probably thinking I'd be too injured to make any more trouble. I smirk to myself at the thought, but it quickly fades as I round the next corner.
Two guards are standing at the far end of the hallway, their backs turned to me. My heart skips a beat. I wasn't expecting them to be here. I stop dead in my tracks, pressing myself against the cold stone wall. I need to think. There's a side passage to my right, one that leads through a storage area and loops back around to the courtyard. If I'm careful, I can make it through without them noticing.
I swallow hard and inch toward the side passage, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. The guards don't seem to notice anything, too wrapped up in their own conversation to pay attention to a shadow slipping past. As soon as I reach the passage, I break into a quiet jog, my muscles screaming in protest with every step.
The side passage is narrow, lined with old crates and dusty banners from long-forgotten events. It's dark, the only light coming from the sliver of moonlight filtering in through a small window at the end. I move quickly, ignoring the pain, focusing only on the rhythm of my footsteps. In, out. In, out.
I reach the end of the passage and press myself against the wall, peeking around the corner to make sure the coast is clear. The courtyard is just ahead, bathed in pale moonlight. The main gate is there, just within reach. I'm so close.
But then, I hear voices. Footsteps.
Two more guards are stationed at the gate, their silhouettes outlined against the dark sky. My heart sinks. Of course, they'd be here. I should have known the main exit wouldn't be unguarded. I bite my lip, thinking. I can't go back—not now. I don't have time to waste. I have to get to my mother, no matter what.
I scan the area, looking for another route, but there's nothing. No way around them. I'm going to have to make a run for it.
My legs tremble beneath me as I brace myself, every fiber of my being screaming in protest. But I can't stop now. I've come too far.
I take a deep breath and bolt.
The air whips past me as I sprint across the courtyard, my feet pounding against the cobblestones. For a second, I think I've made it. For a second, I think I've outrun them.
Then I hear the shout.
"Hey!"
I freeze, my heart slamming against my ribs as I turn to see both guards rushing toward me, their heavy boots echoing in the stillness of the night. Panic grips me, freezing my limbs in place. I should move. I should run. But I can't. I'm caught like a deer in headlights, completely exposed.
They're on me before I can react, grabbing my arms and yanking me back with a force that sends pain shooting through my already battered body. I let out a choked gasp, struggling to free myself, but it's no use. Their grips are iron, unyielding.
"No! Let go of me!" I thrash against them, but it's like fighting against a brick wall. They drag me back toward the academy, their faces set in stone, completely unaffected by my struggles. "You can't do this! Do you know who I am?!"
My voice cracks, desperation seeping into every word. I have to get to her. I have to get to the Lyric.
"I'm the Lyric's one and only son!" I shout, the words hanging in the cold air like a plea, like a threat. But the guards don't flinch. They don't even blink.
One of them tightens his grip on my arm, his expression unreadable. "Sorry, Prince Dragonir. Orders are orders."
I feel the ground slip away beneath me as they drag me back toward the academy, my heart sinking with every step. I've failed.
But this isn't over.