The air was thick with heat and dust as Lucien, Serenith, and Veyra made their way deeper into the mine. The only light came from the glowing embers embedded in the rock and the occasional flicker of shadow magic swirling around Lucien's hand.
Veyra, newly liberated from her armor and far more vocal than usual, chattered as she walked. Her oversized helmet now slung casually under one arm.
"So I was thinking," she said, voice muffled only slightly by her respirator, "if we reinforced the central shaft with that obsidian-glass blend from the Black Ridge, we could expand the ore line without risking another cave-in."
Lucien gave a nod of polite interest but was clearly distracted. His eyes kept flicking sideways toward Serenith, who walked slightly ahead of them, her wings folded tightly to her back and her expression as unreadable as ever.
She was trying her best to ignore him.
Lucien grinned.
"You've been staring at me for twenty minutes," Serenith snapped without turning.
Lucien blinked innocently. "Have I?"
"Yes," she said dryly, "and I'm not flattered."
"Oh please," he said, grinning. "You like it."
She rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle her halo didn't fall off. "I tolerate you."
"Admit it." He slinked up beside her. "You like me."
"I don't hate you."
"You like me," he repeated, his tone sing-song and smug. "You don't just tolerate me. You like me like me."
Serenith rolled her eyes and resumed walking. "Grow up. You sound like a schoolboy with a crush."
"I am a schoolboy with a crush," he said cheerfully, trailing after her. "An devilishly handsome schoolboy with an empire, impeccable style, and outstanding stamina."
"I'll give you two out of three," she muttered.
"Oh come on," he said, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. "I'm really trying here."
Serenith sighed. "I might like you better if you kept your pants on in public for one full day."
Lucien gasped. "Impossible. You ask the sun not to shine?"
She smirked despite herself, floating a little faster to get ahead.
He sidled closer, matching her stride. "Look, I know I joke, but I'm serious about this. Yes, I want to get you in bed. No point lying about that."
"Seriously—" She groaned.
"But," he interrupted, "you mean more to me than that. You, Veyra, the whole team. You're not just assets. You're my partners. My equals. My weird, terrifying family."
Serenith glanced back at Veyra, who grinned sheepishly and waved.
Lucien grabbed Veyra into a spontaneous side hug, catching her off guard. "See? She gets it."
"Oh. Um. Thank you?" Veyra blinked through her goggles, her tiny frame stiffening at first, then relaxing into the contact.
"I trust you both," Lucien said softly. "And trust doesn't come easy for me."
Serenith sighed, her gaze softening. "You've got a funny way of showing it."
He shot her a grin. "My best way of expressing trust is still in bed, but I'm open to alternatives."
She snorted. "You better be. I don't think the dragon's going to want to discuss diplomacy under the sheets."
"I have to agree with Lady Serenith," Veyra muttered as they reached a narrowing tunnel. "This next part is where the screaming usually starts."
The three of them stepped up to a jagged crack in the mine wall, a strange unnatural gap lined with crystallized soot and seared stone. From within, the sound of deep, rhythmic breathing echoed out. A sound that vibrated through their bones and stirred some primal fear in their hearts.
Lucien took a steadying breath and adjusted his jacket. "Let's make a good first impression, shall we?"
They stepped into the darkness, shadowed rock enveloping them. The tunnel twisted and dropped, spiraling downward in uneven steps. With each pace, the air grew warmer, then hot, until sweat clung to their skin and their lungs felt heavy.
As they rounded the final bend, they found themselves in a massive underground chamber, glittering like a palace made of fire and gold. A deep pit stretched across the floor, filled to the brim with treasure.
Gold coins, enchanted armor, arcane tomes, obsidian sculptures, and jeweled goblets.
And on top of it all, curled lazily in the center, lay a dragon.
It was a behemoth of shadow and scale, at dozens of feet long, with jagged horns, smoldering wings, and a body that shimmered like smoke turned solid. Its black scales pulsed with veins of crimson light, and every breath it took caused ripples in the treasure mound.
Lucien opened his mouth. Veyra screamed before he could.
"That's... That's an Elder Shadow Dragon!"
Lucien raised a brow. "You sure?"
Veyra trembled. "Absolutely. Look at the markings, the horns, the gold. He's probably thousands of years old. They say these things don't just hoard treasure. They hoard souls. Ancient, manipulative, immortal... oh gods, we're all gonna die."
Serenith stepped beside Lucien. "You still want to try diplomacy?"
Lucien cracked his neck, steeled himself, and strode forward toward the hoard.
Serenith hovered close behind, whispering, "You have a plan, right?"
"Absolutely," Lucien said confidently.
"Which is?"
"Overwhelming charisma."
Serenith blinked. "Right... so no plan then."
Lucien cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, voice echoing.
"OH GREAT AND MIGHTY DRAGON! I AM LUCIDIUS, DARK LORD OF THESE ASHEN LANDS! I COME NOT TO STEAL, BUT TO BARGAIN!"
The dragon didn't move.
Lucien straightened his collar, adjusted his shirt and added, louder.
"I COME TO OFFER A PROPOSAL OF MUTUAL—"
The dragon's eyes snapped open.
Pupils like glowing pits of ember zeroed in on him.
Lucien froze.
There was a deep, low growl.
FWOOM
Without even lifting its head, it snorted a sharp blast of flame that shot across the chamber, engulfing Lucien completely and incinerating every last stitch of his clothing in an instant. His boots melted. His belt disintegrated and his cape was now ashes in the wind.
Lucien, stark naked, stood smoking at the edge of the hoard.
"Oh, good," Serenith said dryly. "And his pants are off again."
Lucien coughed a puff of smoke. "Right. Round one goes to the dragon."
He turned and walked, very gingerly, back toward the others.
Veyra was shaking. "We're going to die. We're going to actually die. This is it. I knew it. I should've stayed in bed this morning."
Lucien waved a hand as he neared. "Relax. I just need to change my approach."
"To what? Lube and compliments?!" Serenith chuckled.
Lucien stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea, actually..."
"You idiot!" Serenith snorted, then doubled over laughing. "But, gods, that was the worst introduction I've ever seen!"
Lucien grinned. "I like to make a strong impression."
"You made a crispy impression," she said, covering her mouth.
He cracked his knuckles, took a deep breath, and summoned a fresh set of clothes from swirling ash magic. A new cloak snapped across his shoulders, the fabric adorned with burning sigils of his house crest. His signature black-leather vest shimmered into place, tighter than ever. His gloves hissed with magic.
Lucien looked back at the pit where the dragon had not moved.
Still watching.
But now, fully awake.
One giant crimson iris focused on Lucien.
"Right," Lucien said, summoning his patented smirk. "Time to turn up the charm."