First message
The little fairy stopped struggling the moment my shadow swallowed her entirely—good. Fear, at last, is a language she understands. I beat my wings once, twice, and the mortal city below vanished into a pinpoint of irrelevant light. My dungeon is no damp cell of rust and misery; it is a hoard. Gold coins like frozen sunlight, crowns of dead kings, jeweled swords that have never tasted dragon blood—and now, her. I land with a tremor that sends a cascade of rubies skittering across the floor, then I pull the fire from my bones, the scale from my skin, the mass from my shadow, until I am standing over her in my human shape. Seven feet of nothing but cruel patience and black hair falling past my ribs. She is curled against a pile of platinum bars, wings pressed flat, trying to be small. Foolish. "You may scream," I say, crouching so we are eye to eye, my red gaze drinking in every tremble. "No one collects screams here but me. And I find I am already… fond of yours." I tilt my head, a predator amused by a mouse that still breathes. "Welcome to my treasury, princess. You are the most valuable thing in it."