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The Dragon Chronicles	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 55728 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make money from this.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
I think I’m far from the only one to find last week completely appalling. When I heard about the massacre in Orlando, I was so angry and sad. No words can describe the agony so many families are going through right now. And for what? For some rich white men that are hard for their rifles?
On a more personal plan, last week sucked health wise. I was in a hospital for five days and when I got home, I had to deal with side effects from trying to adjust to a new medication that isn’t working yet. Thus, the delay in posting this chapter.
One of the few good things, though, is my new beta. Please give it up for Randombitsofstars!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This girl has worked for every one of those exclamation points and I think you’ll see it this chapter. It is probably my best one yet in this story, thanks to her. Please let us know what you think!
As always, review replies will be answered on my tumblr: theladymiya dot tumblr dot com.
Enjoy!
Chapter 9
By the time McGonagall had finished showing Hermione the mere minimum she needed to know to keep the school functioning, Hermione had a headache. And then, she hadn’t even gone through with what would undoubtedly be the hardest mission of the day; the meeting with the Prefects and her new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
The students would hardly be as understanding as the teachers had been, but she couldn’t have them turn against her.
Flitwick had informed her that all the Prefects had gathered in the staff room, and just a few minutes after four, Hermione once again found herself taking a deep breath outside the door.
Murmurs were heard behind the heavy wood, but as soon as she opened it, time repeated itself and everyone turned silent as she stepped into the room.
As Hermione stood in the doorway, the tension was broken by a shriek, and a mass of red hair filled Hermione’s vision as it tackled her.
“Ginny,” Hermione said softly, embracing her friend.
“What are you doing here?” Ginny asked, withdrawing slightly but still holding onto Hermione’s arms.
“I’m the new Headmistress,” Hermione said.
“That’s impossible!”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed at the incredulous sound of Malfoy’s voice. Apparently, Voldemort had failed to inform Malfoy about the identity of his new employer. Well, she didn’t mind taking him down a few notches.
She had managed to wake up next to the Dark Lord himself, bargain with him over breakfast, and watch him feed her predecessor to his dragons. One schoolyard bully was hardly intimidating after that.
Hermione let go of Ginny and crossed her arms, staring down at Draco Malfoy.
“Do you have something to say, Mr Malfoy?” she asked coldly.
Malfoy sneered at her. “No one in their right mind would make a Mudblood Headmistress.”
Hermione smiled, caressing her new wedding ring with her thumb. “I’ll pass on the sentiment to my husband. I’m sure he will come running to you for more information on his state of mind.”
Malfoy’s face drained of colour, confirming Hermione’s suspicion that Malfoy had been informed of their marriage but had forgotten about it. She supposed Malfoy had thought Voldemort kept her locked away in a dungeon cell or something.
“I ... I just...,” Malfoy stuttered, looking around, desperate for help from one of his peers.
They all looked at anything but Malfoy, not wanting to be associated with him if Voldemort was indeed coming for him.
“Anyone else that wishes to express their opinion on my new position?”
No one said anything. Only Ginny looked at her, seemingly unable to decide if she was happy Hermione was there or worried about the circumstances.
“I gathered you here to let you know about the changes I will implement. For starters, I have changed the rules back to how they were before Dumbledore died,” she said, and many of the students seemed to relax. “It will once again be forbidden to practice the Dark Arts, even though you will be reading about it in theory. Students will no longer be physically punished, and the Carrows have been fired.”
Several students cheered at that, a few hugging each other. It broke Hermione’s heart to have to say what she said next.
“The Dark Lord will join us for dinner tonight, and it would be unwise to voice any objections at that time.”
The cheerful faces from just a few seconds ago had vanished and the Prefects were now staring at her as if she had just killed their favourite puppy in front of them.
“You will have to warn your fellow students. Make sure they are on their best behaviour. Any questions?” Hermione asked.
A short, freckled fifth year, Ravenclaw raised her hand. “What do we call you now?”
Hermione was taken aback at first, but then she realised that she hadn’t even introduced herself properly.
“Oh, sorry, I’m Professor Granger, or Headmistress Granger, if you prefer.”
“The Dark Lord let you keep your Mud— er, Muggle-born name?” a sixth year Slytherin asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “We both agreed that Mrs. You-Know-Who would be quite silly.”
Some of the Gryffindors gave a nervous chuckle.
When no one else raised any questions, she dismissed them. Everyone left, except Ginny and Malfoy.
Hermione crossed her arms again, scowling at Malfoy. Next to her, Ginny did the same.
“What?” she demanded.
Malfoy looked like he was about to cry. “Please, please, Professor Granger, don’t tell the Dark Lord what I said earlier. I wasn’t thinking. Please.”
Hermione was surprised at his sincerity, but the plea actually fitted her plans quite nicely. “Very well, I won’t. But do know that it was I who requested you to become the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The Dark Lord doesn’t care one way or the other.”
Malfoy looked at her, clearly shocked. “You want me to be a teacher?”
Ginny also made a noise of surprise, but thankfully didn’t comment.
“The Dark Lord didn’t tell you?” Hermione asked, surprised, purposely using the same name for Voldemort as the Death Eaters.
Malfoy shook his head. “He only told my father that I had to pack my things and be here at four o’clock.”
“I see. The reason I requested you is because I know you don’t want to be a Death Eater.”
Malfoy paled even more. “Of course I do.”
Hermione snorted, sharing a look with Ginny, who was following the conversation with great interest.
“Oh please, we both know what happened at your manor this spring.”
Malfoy was starting to visibly sweat, his forehead glistening with moisture. “That was just a temporary— I was surprised. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be a Death Eater, I just—”
“I don’t care,” Hermione interrupted his ramblings with a wave of her hand. “In fact, it’s in my interest that you stay a Death Eater, because that’s the only reason the Dark Lord agreed you could be a teacher. I will provide you with a curriculum, and you will do your very best to be an exemplary teacher. You will treat every student equally. No nepotism. If you do what I say, I’ll make sure to keep you out of the war. How does that sound?”
She could see a flash of relief fly through his eyes and silently scoffed. Malfoy had always been too much of a coward to actually fight a fair fight. At least this way, he would still be useful and not just sit on his pureblood arse in the manor, hiding.
“I can do that,” Malfoy said. “But the term has already started, how will I be able to teach on Monday?”
“I will give you the curriculum Professor Lupin created when he held the position. I will need to add some Dark Arts into it, but in the meantime, you’ll go from there.”
If Malfoy wanted to say anything demeaning about Professor Lupin, he had the good sense not to voice his thoughts aloud.
“For now, go to Professor McGonagall’s office. She’ll take you to your quarters and explain everything else to you,” she said, dismissing him.
Malfoy nodded and quickly left the room.
“Coward,” Ginny muttered after him.
Hermione just shook her head, turning her attention to Ginny instead.
“How are you?” she asked, her voice full of concern.
“I’m fine,” Ginny said dismissively, despite having a visible bruise on her collarbone. “But how are you doing? Where are Ron and Harry?”
“Ron and Harry are fine last I saw them. I broke them out and they’re free,” Hermione said, happy that she could ease some of Ginny’s worries. “I’m okay, but things are complicated.”
“Tell me about it. I nearly had a heart attack when I read the Daily Prophet a few months ago. And then you show up on the back of a dragon and break Harry out? And he had been here the whole time?” Ginny shook her head. “Absolutely bonkers. Why did you come back?”
“I was a liability to Harry, because of my marriage,” Hermione said, sticking to the half-true version. No one but Harry and Ron could know that she was really here to find a new way to kill Voldemort. “So we decided that I should help the students instead. Protect you.”
“But who will protect you?” Ginny asked, grasping Hermione’s arm.
“I have picked up a thing or two to keep me safe,” Hermione said with a smile. “Don’t worry about me. Go and talk to the others in Gryffindor instead. I’m sure some would like nothing more than to pull a prank tonight. But they can’t. You-Know-Who has agreed that students won’t be physically punished, but I doubt he thinks the rule applies to himself, if someone provokes him.”
“Is it true what they say,” Ginny asked, lowering her voice. “That he looks human again?”
Hermione nodded, suddenly realising how difficult this must be for Ginny. She had been manipulated by Tom Riddle when she was just eleven years old. Seeing the exact face of him again must bring back a lot of unpleasant memories.
But Hermione was reminded that Ginny had the true heart of a Gryffindor when, instead of complaining, she just straightened her back and squeezed Hermione’s arm.
“I’ll make sure they stay at their best behaviour,” Ginny promised.
“Thank you,” Hermione said, hugging her friend one more time.
The rest of the afternoon disappeared just as fast as the day had, and before Hermione knew it, it was time to take her place in the Great Hall.
Sitting in the Headmaster’s chair at the head table felt wrong. Everyone would be able to scrutinise her every move - they would see who she talked to and what she ate. She didn’t like having the attention of hundreds of students on her.
Somehow, rising out of her chair to speak, Hermione managed to stumble over a few words about how she was hoping the students would learn a lot, but it was hardly a speech that was worth remembering.
As they started to eat, the student were uncharacteristically quiet. They kept glancing up at her and Voldemort, who was sitting conspicuously at her right. Even the teachers were quieter than usual. The only sound came from on her left, where McGonagall and Flitwick were discussing an article from some Transfiguration magazine. Hermione was glad to hear someone talking, but did not have the energy to join in.
The meal was almost over when Voldemort suddenly rose, his chair scraping loudly behind him. The hall fell into an unnatural hush at the sound.
“I have some things to take care of, dear, don’t wait up for me,” he said, loudly enough for the rest of the teachers, and probably some of the students to hear.
“Okay, I won’t,” Hermione answered sarcastically.
Apparently wanting to humiliate her some more, he leant in to give her a soft kiss on her lips. Then he was gone, seemingly having Disapparated.
Of course, even the first years knew that you couldn’t Apparate within Hogwarts.
He had used something else, but Hermione couldn’t for the life of her figure out what sort of spell. As someone who prided herself on her intelligence, her ignorance irked her almost as much as the kiss.
The noise in the Great Hall increased the moment Voldemort left. She could feel all eyes were on her once again. Why did he have to kiss her like that? Wasn’t the ring enough to stake his territory?
Apparently not. Instead, the man delighted in humiliating her in front of the entire school.
As soon as the other teachers began to take their leave, Hermione left as well, not wanting to speak with anyone. She had to contact Kara again, and try to talk with Harry and Ron. She had figured out a way she could use Kara to communicate directly with the boys, and if Voldemort was going to be away for the rest of the night, she should take the opportunity to try it.
Going straight to her quarters, she sank down in the blue plush sofa and closed her eyes.
Hermione! Kara exclaimed happily when she called out for him.
Hi Kara, Hermione replied cheerfully. Just being mentally close with Kara comforted her more than she had thought was possible. She was more relaxed than she had felt all day. Just a few words with her dragon was already easing tension she hadn’t known she was holding in her shoulders. What have you been doing?
We are hiding in a cave. The boys argue a lot. Wants to save you, worries about you.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course they were. Can I use your eyes, ears and mouth to talk to them?
How? Kara asked.
I’ll show you, if you let me?
Kara agreed.
Hermione focused on her dragon, recalling the feeling of his slick scales and fiery heat. Slowly, a vision was starting to form in front of her. It did not have the same colours as she was used to. Instead, everything had a bluish filter.
She was looking into the inside of a cave, and to her surprise, she saw a rainbow of colours, shaped as two humans huddled close to a fire, which was the only thing that looked similar to her normal sight. She could see the heat of Ron and Harry, more intensely yellow at the centre of the body, while the excrements were redder. Kara has heat vision, Hermione realised, and just as she was about to get used to it, Kara blinked - she was seeing in the colours she normally saw, only now, every living creature was highlighted by a soft glow.
Ron, glowing as red as his hair, was leaning back against the cave’s wall while Harry, glasses perched on his nose, was a more yellowish in hue. Harry was using a long stick to poke into the fire. Next to him lay a plastic bag from a Muggle grocery store.
As she focused, sounds started to come through as though from the bottom of a well. Hazy and indistinct, as though Hermione’s head was filled with water. After a moment of struggling to focus, Hermione could hear them clearly.
“—feel useless,” Harry was muttering.
“It’s just been one day,” Ron encouraged him. “Hermione always says we have to plan things more. Now, we have time for it.”
“But she is risking her life, and I’m just—”
“You are gathering your strength,” Hermione said, through Kara.
Her voice sounded very different coming from Kara’s mouth, much darker and with lots of hissing sounds.
Both boys jumped and stared at the dragon.
“Hermione?” Harry asked, sounding doubtful and a little scared.
“Yes. I told you I’d stay in contact,” Hermione reminded them with a trace of a grin. The effect was probably a little menacing through Kara, with his bared teeth, but it seemed the boys got the message well enough.
“How are you doing?” Ron asked, finally calming down enough to settle back into his original position. “Did You-Know-Who fall for it?”
“Yes. Snape’s dead and I’m the new Headmistress,” she confirmed, her voice still distorted through Kara. “It will take some time for me to get information, so don’t come running here trying to save me. It’s not like I’m alone. Professor McGonagall is here. And Ginny.”
Harry’s face lit up at the sound of his girlfriend’s name. “How is Ginny?”
“Good. Worried about you,” she answered truthfully. “She would want you to take care and be careful. You lost a lot of strength being imprisoned. Both of you did. Make sure to eat a lot and practice your magic and physical strength.”
Both Ron and Harry grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“We were thinking about trying to contact people from the Order,” Harry said, turning serious again.
She thought about it. “That’s probably a good idea. You should tell them that Voldemort has bonded with two dragons and is even more dangerous and powerful. Perhaps Remus knows something about the Dragon Chronicles. Or Hagrid.”
“Charlie probably does,” Ron said, looking happy at the prospect of seeing his brother.
Hermione nodded, thoughtful. “Yes. If he’s still in Romania, it would be a good place for you to hide. Even Kara would be able to blend in there. Just make sure no wizard captures him.”
Like they could, Kara muttered.
Just want you to be safe, Hermione told him.
“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Harry promised.
“I have to go now,” Hermione said. “I still have a lot to learn about being the Headmistress.”
They said their goodbyes and Hermione withdrew from Kara’s mind, coming back to her own body.
She opened her eyes, feeling the relaxing atmosphere drain from shoulders, leaving exhaustion in its wake. She was even more wrung out than earlier, and that was saying something.
“Who were you talking to?”
Hermione froze in fear when she saw Voldemort sitting on the sofa next to her. His arm was lying on the back of the sofa, his wand pointing at her menacingly.
“Kara,” Hermione said, which she supposed technically was true.
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “No. If you were only talking to your dragon, you wouldn’t have to possess him. I recognise the signs, Hermione. You were talking with someone through him. I’m guessing Potter.”
“I was just making sure he is okay,” she said.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked in a low voice. “I knew you were still planning to help Potter the moment you came here. But I think I will make that a little harder.”
Before she had time to draw her own wand, he disarmed her, her wand flying from her lap into his hand. She started to rise to retrieve it physically, but Voldemort pushed her back down, his free hand on her chest, waving his wand again. Her hands flew up over her head and she could feel the magical restraints bind her to the sofa. They were invisible and it felt like the air was pressing down against her wrists, making them almost impossible to move.
Her first instinct was to kick him, but then she remembered her mission. She was here to be a Headmistress. Whatever Voldemort was planning to do to her, it wouldn’t directly hurt Harry and Ron.
No, the best thing was probably just to take her punishment, and live to fight another day. If she upset him more, he could very well kill her, and then all their plans would be ruined.
However, when Voldemort conjured up a knife, her heart caught in her throat and she started to question the wisdom of her decision. It was a small silver knife, and when he moved on top of her, she could see the runes etched into the blade. She recognised the one for blood immediately and couldn’t help but to flinch, trying to squirm as far away from him as possible.
The magical restraints were immovable. They wouldn’t budge a centimeter.
He smiled down at her, clearly amused by her fruitless struggle. Then he slowly cut open her robe, his fingers tracing the skin of her chest as it became visible. He cut all the way down to her navel before pushing the ruined fabric aside, revealing her bra. He didn’t bother cutting that, instead he just slashed his wand, banishing it.
For a few seconds, he stared down at her chest, and despite the danger she was in, Hermione felt a gush of heat travel down her body.
“Are you going to ogle me all day or did you actually have something planned?” Hermione said, trying to sound tougher than she felt and, more importantly, reminding herself that she was in for some sort of punishment. And not of the sexual variety!
He gave her a knowing smile, as if he knew that her heart under his hand beat more in arousal than in fear. “I can do both,” he said softly and, without another warning, he slashed a shallow cut over her left breast.
Hermione winced at the pain and watched as Voldemort pressed his hand against the cut, smearing the blood over her breast and chest. Red tendrils ran faster than should be possible down towards the column of her throat.
That was when she realised what he was doing, but she didn’t have time to try and persuade him to stop.
He spoke a command and a hot pulse of magic was trusted right into the open wound.
The spell travelled through her blood, making her moan in pain. Her blood felt as if it was boiling inside her. Shallow blood vessels burst, making it hard to breathe as it ran from her nose. She gagged on the blood as some tickled down her throat. She struggled against the bindings, trying to push him off her, but he held her down, his hand still pressed against the open cut.
On the other side of the magical bond, Hermione could feel Kara panicking. He called out to her but she was in too much pain to answer. Instead she saw flashes before her eyes. Kara, throwing himself from the cave, flying over water, screaming in pain. There was only one thought in his head: her.
She screamed too. She couldn’t take it anymore. He did plan to kill her. She was drowning in her own blood and if she didn’t get air soon, she would—
The pain subsided. Instead of a blood, she could feel air in her lungs and she gulped it down greedily before forcing her attention back to Voldemort.
“You can’t kill him,” she gasped, pleading.
“I won’t,” Voldemort said softly. “When he arrives, I will merely capture him. He will stay here as leverage, my dear.”
She let out a sigh of relief and allowed herself to close her eyes. Unconsciousness was so close and she wanted to escape into it now that she knew Kara would live. She didn’t know what she would have done if Voldemort attempted to murder Kara.
“How far away is he?” Voldemort asked, once again forcing her attention back to him.
“I’m not sure,” Hermione said, blinking up at him. “He is on his way, though. I can feel it.”
“Nevertheless, I think we can speed things up a bit,” his lips curled into a vicious smile as he pressed his wand against her throat.
Hermione closed her eyes, knowing what was to come.
“Crucio.”
xxx
When the dragon finally reached Hogwarts, Voldemort was already waiting for him - with Elva and Tolv at his side. Before Kara managed to reach him to avenge his mistress’ suffering, but he flew right into the magical net Voldemort had conjured and concealed. The great beast fell to the ground, ensnared.
The dragon tried to spit a stream of fire at him, but Voldemort kept a strong protective shield around himself as he walked up to the enraged beast.
“Your mistress is still alive,” Voldemort told the animal coldly. “For her continued well-being, I suggest you cooperate.”
Elva and Tolv were circling the confrontation in the air, ready to strike if their master commanded it.
Granger’s dragon clearly understood him, because he stopped breathing fire with an agitated snap of his jaws.
“I’ll take you to a chamber under the ground, in which you will stay there as long as I say so. In the meantime, you will teach my dragons what they want to know.”
The big black dragon growled at the blatant command.
He is asking about his girl, Elva informed him.
“My wife is resting. She has had a very long and taxing day,” Voldemort purred, curling his lips in a sneer. “She will come and see you when I deem it appropriate.”
The black dragon tightened up once more, as though to harm the wizard, but then relented, sinking back into the confines of the magical net. It seemed the beast was resigned to its fate, if only at the expense of keeping Hermione safe.
He ordered Elva and Tolv to carry the other dragon down to the Chamber of Secrets. Once there, he chained the animal to the wall, a giant shackle resting around his neck.
The dragon growled at him, but Voldemort just scoffed, not interested in making conversation.
“Goodnight,” Voldemort called to Elva and Tolv. They were circling, creeping closer to the bigger dragon.
It was nice that his dragons received a new toy to play with.
He went up to the Headmistress Chamber’s and found Granger struggling to rise from the sofa, her hard breathing telling him that she had made several tries.
The girl was still shivering from the lingering effects of the curse, her bare chest covered in dried blood.
“Kara,” she muttered when he came closer. “I need to see him.”
She tried to rise again, but her muscles were still cramping from the curses and she fell back down with a whimper.
“You are not going anywhere tonight,” Voldemort told her. “Except to the bath.”
He easily picked her up and carried her trembling body to the bathroom. Voldemort wasn’t done tormenting her for the night - but at least the next part would be less... painful.
He removed the rest of her clothes with a wave of his wand and placed her into the empty tub.
She was staring at him with big, fearful eyes, and tried to cover her nakedness with trembling limbs.
He ignored her motions and started to fill the tub with warm water. When it was almost full, he poured a potion into the stream that would help her body recover from the Cruciatus Curse. He did want her up and working by tomorrow.
The dried blood came off in flakes, turning the water pink. Ignoring him and the potion, Granger turned her attention to that instead, starting to scrub off the rest of the red specks.
Voldemort sat down at the edge of the tub, looking at her, his expression thoughtful.
She appeared just as he remembered, small and soft. Her breasts were just underneath the surface, her pink nipples softening in the warm water. He remembered what they had looked like on their wedding night. How they had bounced as she got on top of him, the beautiful globes of flesh shaking as she rode him hard.
He had never experienced anyone on top of him before, much preferring to be the partner in absolute control. His previous partners had seemed partial to this as well, unwilling to challenge him. It had surprised him that she would dare such a bold move, but it had given him a pleasing angle into her body. Of course, he could have changed their position at any moment but the change of pace had been … enjoyable.
He wondered how long it would take for her to give in to him. Because she would. The potion he had given her was more than just a lust potion. Among other things, it had had a drop of his blood in it, making his very being like an addictive drug, tailored just for her. She would fight the sensation, but Voldemort knew succumbing would be inevitable.
Voldemort planned to exploit that. In was in his nature to take, after all.
“Do you have to sit there?” Granger finally asked, glaring at him from her position in the tub.
“You are my wife and you are in pain. Of course I have to help you,” Voldemort said softly.
She continued to glare at him. “It would have been more helpful if you hadn’t tortured me in the first place.”
“You know you deserved it,” he said calmly. “Now, turn around and let me wash your hair.”
“I don’t want you to,” she hissed, moving away incrementally.
He sighed dramatically and with a flash of his wand, he had removed his robe and trousers. Slowly, he put his feet in the water. He then pulled her towards him, turning her back against his legs.
“You still act as if you have a choice,” he mused, starting to rinse her hair with water from his wand.
Granger sat stiffly as he massaged shampoo into her hair. It was easier said than done, considering she had so much of it, but he made sure not to get his fingers tangled in her thick locks.
He didn’t say anything else, but let his fingers speak for him. Soft promises of comfort if she just gave in to her needs.
Alas, she was headstrong, and the only thing she did was pull up her legs and lean against her knees, curling in on herself. But he was patient. The longer she resisted, the sweeter it would be when she gave in. Just like a drug.
He washed the shampoo from her hair and helped her out from the tub, wrapping a towel around her supple body. He admired her a moment before getting to work on her hair.
“I do like your hair,” Voldemort murmured as he dried it with magic.
Hermione scoffed.
“I do,” he assured her. “It makes you beautiful, unique.”
She was silent for a moment.
“Why would you say that?” she finally asked, her voice unsure.
“A husband can’t find his wife beautiful?”
“Yes, but can the Dark Lord find a Mudblood beautiful?” she countered.
“He can,” he said softly. “When she has such fascinating hair.”
Her hair dry, Hermione turned around, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you are trying to accomplish, but I’m not in the mood. I was tired before, and then you tortured me and now I’m exhausted.”
She took a few steps towards the door, but stumbled.
He easily caught her and hoisted her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style over to the bed.
“I hate you,” she yawned, but didn’t try to wriggle out of his arms, clearly too tired to protest.
“I know you do, dear.”
He put her in bed and pulled the covers over her. She was asleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.
He looked at her motionless form for another moment. She would turn to him. Before, she had just been the means of capturing Potter, but now, after mastering the Dragon Chronicles, she was so much more.
She was the most powerful witch alive.
He was the most powerful wizard alive.
She might not even realise it herself yet, but he could feel her power. When they were finally working together, there would be nothing in their way.
They would become unstoppable, unconquerable.
They could achieve anything.
Even conquer death itself.
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The Dragon Chronicles