Under Her Skin

Anne couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted inside her, something she couldn't control. The stranger's words echoed in her mind as she made her way back toward the house, her steps light but quick. "You're more dangerous than you realize." His voice played over and over like a haunting melody.

Dangerous. The word stirred something deep within her, but Anne pushed it down. She wasn't dangerous. She was just... different. But that difference, her mother's constant warnings, the way people looked at her like she was a wild animal caged too long—it was all too much. And now, this stranger. He had said something about knowing her, knowing what she was, but how could he? Nobody knew. Not really.

The fire inside her simmered, just beneath the surface, threatening to burn everything away. Anne couldn't help herself; her hand brushed against the side of her neck, where a faint but unmistakable warmth pulsed. She had no idea what was happening to her, no idea what she was becoming. Every day, it felt like the ground beneath her feet grew less solid. But what terrified her more than anything was the sudden pull of curiosity.

She wanted to know what he meant. She wanted to understand how he knew.

As she neared the house, the weight of her mother's expectations pressed heavily on her chest. Bela would know something was wrong. She would feel the shift, the disturbance in the air, and Anne's secret would be out. The thought of it made her skin crawl, and she turned back to look at the edge of the forest, as though the stranger might still be lurking there, waiting for her to come back.

But when she stepped inside, the familiar scent of her mother's perfume—a sharp, herbal fragrance—washed over her, and for a brief moment, the fear subsided. This was her home, her cage. This was where she belonged. Or at least, where her mother had told her she did.

"Anne."

She froze, every muscle in her body stiffening as the voice of Bela sliced through the silence. Her mother stood at the end of the long hallway, her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes narrowed, scanning Anne from head to toe as if she were some kind of threat.

Anne didn't speak right away. The tension in the room thickened. Bela always had that way of making Anne feel smaller, like she didn't have the right to be in the same space. She hated it, and yet, in some twisted way, it made her feel safe. In control.

"Where did you go?" Bela's tone was casual, but Anne knew better than to believe it.

"I needed air," Anne said, repeating the same excuse she'd given before. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. Not fully.

Bela's gaze sharpened. She stepped forward, her eyes scanning Anne's face as if looking for something. "Don't lie to me. I know when you're hiding something. What did you feel out there? What happened?"

Anne swallowed hard. There was no escaping this. Bela was too keen, too aware of everything. And maybe, just maybe, if Anne told her the truth, she'd understand. Or maybe her mother would just lock her away forever.

"I felt... something," Anne said slowly. "Something... strange."

Bela was silent for a long moment, her eyes fixed on Anne. It was as though she was weighing the situation, deciding how much to reveal. Finally, she spoke, her voice lower than before, filled with a caution Anne had never heard.

"You don't know what you felt," Bela said quietly, a strange sadness in her eyes. "But you will. And when you do, you'll understand why I keep you hidden."

Anne opened her mouth to argue, but her mother held up a hand, silencing her. "You don't know the truth yet. But you will soon enough."

There was something about the way she said it—so final, so ominous—that made Anne feel a knot tighten in her stomach. She was used to her mother's overbearing protectiveness, but this was different. This wasn't just about keeping her safe. It was about something more. Something hidden.

Anne wanted to scream. To demand the truth. To force her mother to tell her what she was.

But the fire inside her, the dragon blood, twisted and churned in her veins, a reminder of how dangerous she truly was.

For a moment, she considered the possibility that her mother's warnings weren't just about the world outside. They were about Anne herself.