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The scent of old parchment, dried lavender, and iron gall ink had always been Sim Jaeyun’s sanctuary. To the rest of the kingdom, the Grand Archives of Oakhaven were a tedious mausoleum of dead kings and forgotten treaties. To Jake, it was home. As a junior scribe, his hands were perpetually stained a faint indigo, his back slightly curved from hours spent hunched over heavy vellum under the dim glow of tallow candles. He was a creature of quietude, existing only to observe and record.
He never expected to become part of the history he wrote.
It happened on a night when the moon was swallowed whole by thick, suffocating storm clouds. The air in the archives grew suddenly heavy, pressurized by a terrifying, unseen force. Then came the sound—a low, rhythmic thrumming that vibrated through the stone floor, rattling the glass inkwells on Jake’s desk. It wasn’t an earthquake. It was the sound of colossal wings beating against the atmosphere.
Before Jake could even rise from his stool, the massive stained-glass dome of the ceiling shattered inward.
A cacophony of exploding glass and splintering wood rained down. Through the gaping wound in the roof, a nightmare descended. It was a beast of prehistoric proportions, its scales the color of obsidian laced with veins of molten gold. The sheer wing-span blocked out the sky, and when its massive claws gripped the stone pillars, the entire foundation of the library groaned under its immense weight.
Jake fell backward, his breath catching in his throat. His heart hammered like a trapped bird against his ribs. He couldn't move. He couldn't scream. He could only stare into the creature’s eyes—two glowing pools of liquid amber, burning with an intelligence so ancient it made Jake's soul feel infinitesimally small.
The dragon did not roar. It did not breathe fire to ash the knowledge of mortals. Instead, with a frighteningly precise and deliberate grace, one massive, clawed hand reached down. The tip of a single talon, sharper than any royal broadsword and larger than Jake’s entire torso, gently hooked around the back of Jake's tunic.
With a breathless gasp, Jake was lifted into the air. The world spun into a blur of cold wind, rushing clouds, and the terrifyingly vast expanse of the midnight sky. The pressure of the high altitude made his ears pop, and the biting cold threatened to freeze the tears on his cheeks. He braced himself for the inevitable—to be dropped, to be crushed, to be devoured. He clutched his small, leather-bound personal journal tightly to his chest, closing his eyes as consciousness mercifully slipped away.
When Jake woke up, the air was different. It didn't smell like rain or wind; it smelled of sulfur, dry heat, and something overwhelmingly rich, like heated copper and ancient dust.
He opened his eyes groggily, wincing as he shifted. He wasn't dead. He was lying on a mound of something surprisingly soft, yet when he reached out, his fingers brushed against cold, hard metal. He sat up abruptly, gasping at the sight around him.
He was in a cavern so vast it could have swallowed the entire Oakhaven castle whole. Stalactites hung like frozen spears from a ceiling hidden in deep shadows. But it was what lay on the floor that stole the breath from his lungs. Miles and miles of glittering gold coins, jewel-encrusted chalices, forgotten crowns of lost civilizations, and, strangest of all, towering mountains of books. Thousands of codices, scrolls, and leather-bound texts were stacked haphazardly among the treasures, looking like paper fortresses in a desert of wealth.
Then, a massive shadow shifted at the far end of the cavern.
Jake froze. The dragon was there, coiled tightly around a massive pillar of stone. Its breathing was a low, rumbling seismic wave that vibrated through the gold beneath Jake’s boots. As the beast uncoiled, its long, serpentine neck extended, lowering its massive head until it was mere inches from Jake.
The contrast was terrifying. Jake was a frail, small human in a linen shirt, while a single scale on the dragon’s snout was larger than his face. The heat radiating from the beast's nostrils was suffocating, smelling of old smoke and ozone. Jake squeezed his eyes shut, trembling violently, waiting for the jaws to snap shut.
Instead, a blinding flash of golden light illuminated the cavern, forcing Jake to shield his eyes.
When the light faded, the heavy, thumping sound of the dragon's breath was gone. In its place was the soft, rhythmic sound of human footsteps crunching over gold coins.
"You tremble quite a bit for someone who handles the weight of history every day," a voice murmured.
It was a baritone voice, smooth but laced with a strange, echoing resonance that didn't sound entirely human.
Jake slowly opened his eyes and lowered his hands. Standing before him was a man. Or rather, a being wearing the guise of a man. He was tall, his stature imposing and broad-shouldered, clad in loose, sweeping robes of black and gold that seemed to absorb the dim light of the cave. His hair was as dark as the midnight sky, contrasting sharply with his pale, aristocratic skin. But it was his eyes that betrayed his true nature—they remained the same piercing, molten amber, glowing with a dangerous, draconic intensity.
This was the dragon.
Jake scrambled backward on the pile of coins, his boots sliding. "W-Who... what are you?" his voice cracked, betraying his absolute terror.
The man didn't answer immediately. He walked closer, his movements agonizingly slow, carrying an innate, regal authority that demanded submission. He stopped just a foot away from Jake, looking down at the trembling scribe. The sheer physical presence of the man was overwhelming; he towered over Jake, casting a long, dark shadow over his smaller frame.
"I am Heeseung," the man finally said, his voice dropping to a softer, almost melancholic register. He tilted his head, studying Jake like a rare specimen. "And you are the best scribe the western kingdoms have to offer. Am I correct, Sim Jaeyun?"
Jake swallowed hard, his throat dry. "How do you know my name?"
"I know many things," Heeseung replied, though a fleeting shadow of frustration crossed his handsome features. "Or rather... I used to know them."
Heeseung knelt down on the gold coins, bringing himself closer to Jake's eye level. Up close, Jake could see the faint, shimmering patterns of draconic scales tracing along Heeseung's jawline and high cheekbones. Despite the terrifying aura, there was a profound, exhaustion etched into the lines of the dragon's face.
"I have lived for five thousand years, little scribe," Heeseung murmured, extending a pale hand. His fingers were long, tipped with sharp, black nails that resembled claws. He didn't touch Jake; instead, he pointed toward a stone desk nestled between two massive piles of ancient books. On the desk sat a pristine glass inkwell, a stack of blank vellum, and a beautifully carved golden quill. "I have seen empires rise from the mud and crumble back into dust. I have memorized the names of stars that have long since died."
Heeseung paused, his amber eyes dimming slightly, a look of genuine vulnerability cracking his stoic facade.
"But eternity is a heavy burden. The human mind forgets out of mercy, but a dragon's mind... it decays. Slowly. Cruelly. Lately, I wake up and the faces of my oldest friends are gone. The names of the valleys I burned are blank spaces in my mind. The fog is coming, Jaeyun. And if I do not catch the memories now, they will vanish forever."
Jake listened, his fear slowly being eclipsed by a profound sense of awe and a strange, sudden ache in his chest. As a scribe, there was no tragedy worse than a story lost to time. To hear an immortal being plead for the preservation of his own existence was heartbreaking.
"You... you k- kidnap me... just to write?" Jake whispered, his stutter returning slightly.
"I took you," Heeseung corrected softly, a possessive glint returning to his eyes as he leaned a fraction closer, invading Jake's personal space. The heat radiating from Heeseung’s body was intoxicatingly warm. "Because I need a keeper. Someone whose sole purpose is to hold my past. You will live here. You will want for nothing. The gold is yours to sleep on, the books are yours to read. But your hands belong to me."
Heeseung stood up, extending his hand down toward Jake. It was a command disguised as an invitation.
"Write what I remember, Jaeyun," Heeseung commanded, his voice echoing off the cavern walls, heavy with the weight of millennia. "Before it all turns to ash. Before I forget who I am."
Jake looked at the large, pale hand offered to him, then at the stone desk waiting with blank pages. He was trapped in a mountain, miles away from human civilization, at the mercy of a creature that could incinerate him with a breath. Yet, looking into Heeseung's desperate, burning eyes, Jake felt a strange, terrifying pull.
Slowly, his small, ink-stained hand lifted, and he placed it into the dragon's large, warm palm.
——
The first few days inside the dragon’s lair felt like a blur of a feverish nightmare for Jake. However, slowly, the paralyzing terror began to morph into a strange, intimate, and intoxicating routine.
The cavern never grew cold. The immense heat radiating from Heeseung’s body—in both his draconic and human forms—seeped into every corner of the stone and the mounds of treasure, creating a warm, sheltered microclimate in the heart of a mountain surrounded by perpetual snow. Heeseung had carefully curated a small alcove near the stone desk for Jake. The dragon had dragged plush silk tapestries and velvet cloaks from ancient royal spoils to serve as Jake’s bed, shielding his fragile human skin from the sharp edges of the gold coins.
That morning, Jake woke to a low, seismic rumbling. Opening his eyes, he found Heeseung’s massive dragon form coiled tightly around his sleeping area, acting as a living fortress of midnight-black and molten-gold scales. The beast was already awake. Its colossal amber eyes were fixed entirely on Jake, watching him push past the heavy silks with an intensity that made the hairs on the scribe's arms stand on end.
The sheer contrast always made Jake’s head spin. He was barely as tall as one of Heeseung’s front talons. If the dragon so much as rolled over in his sleep, Jake would be crushed instantly. Yet, the mythical beast remained perfectly still, holding his breath to ensure the ambient smoke wouldn't choke the small, messy-haired human.
"You are awake," a deep voice resonated, vibrating through the gold beneath Jake's feet.
In a sudden, blinding flash of golden light that forced Jake to shield his eyes, the massive dragon form shranked and condensed. Within seconds, it was replaced by the tall, imposing figure of Heeseung in his human guise, clad in sweeping black and gold robes. He walked over, his movements fluid and predator-like. His face was devastatingly handsome, yet his eyes retained that terrifying, ancient draconic glow.
"Prepare yourself, Jaeyun. My mind feels somewhat clear today. We must write before the fog rolls in again."
Jake nodded obediently. He hurried to his wooden stool, smoothing out a fresh sheet of vellum and dipping the nib of his golden quill into the glass inkwell. His hand trembled slightly—not out of fear anymore, but due to the overwhelming presence of Heeseung suddenly stepping up right behind his chair.
"Where shall we begin today, My Lord?" Jake asked softly, his gentle voice cutting through the heavy silence of the cavern.
"The three-hundredth year after the fall of the Elisian Empire," Heeseung murmured.
Before Jake could even write the heading, he felt a warm puff of air against the nape of his neck. Heeseung did not maintain his distance. The immortal being stepped forward until his broad chest pressed flush against the back of Jake’s wooden chair. Moments later, Heeseung leaned his weight forward, draping his large frame over the scribe until his chin rested casually, comfortably, on Jake’s left shoulder.
Jake froze. His heart hammered like a trapped bird against his ribs. Heeseung’s scent—a potent, intoxicating blend of ancient sandalwood, ozone, and ash—instantly filled his senses. The dragon's face was so close that Jake could see the flutter of his long eyelashes and the faint, shimmering patterns of obsidian scales tracing his sharp jawline.
"M-My Lord... you are too close," Jake whispered, a fierce crimson blush spreading rapidly from his neck to the tips of his ears.
"Be silent and write," Heeseung commanded, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a violent shiver down Jake's spine. Yet, there was no malice in his tone. Instead, Heeseung slid one large, pale hand around Jake's waist from behind, anchoring the smaller man securely against the desk. The grip was possessive, a blatant display of dominance, but it felt remarkably protective. "If I do not lean against you, my head feels too heavy with the weight of things I am losing."
Jake swallowed hard, trying desperately to focus on the blank paper despite the overwhelming heat of the immortal body enveloping his own. "Very well... the three-hundredth year of Elisia..."
"The sky was bleeding red from volcanic ash back then," Heeseung dictated, his lips brushing slightly against the fabric of Jake's collar with every word. "I was flying across the Black Valley. I was still young—barely a few centuries old. My scales hadn't hardened into armor yet. It was there that I encountered the last dragon of the Northern Ridge."
Jake’s quill flew across the parchment, the rhythmic scratch-scratch of the metal nib the only anchor keeping him grounded in reality. He found himself utterly captivated, his mind painting vivid pictures of a wilder, reckless Heeseung soaring through a ruined world.
But as Jake wrote, he felt Heeseung’s grip on his waist tighten into a desperate, subconscious cling. The dragon’s breathing became shallower, the temperature of his skin spiking dangerously.
"She was magnificent. Her scales were the color of frosted starlight," Heeseung murmured, his brow furrowing as his temple rubbed against Jake’s cheek. "We fought for three days over territory, tearing mountains into jagged cliffs until we both bled gold into the snow. And when the battle ended, she flew toward the horizon. Her name was... her name was..."
Heeseung went dead silent.
The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Jake held his breath, his quill hovering a fraction of an inch above the paper. A drop of indigo ink pooled at the tip of the nib, threatening to ruin the pristine vellum.
"My Lord?" Jake called out softly, tilting his head slightly to look at the man resting on him. He could feel a terrifying, rigid tension locking up Heeseung’s muscles.
"I... I cannot recall it," Heeseung whispered. The smooth, regal resonance of his voice cracked, replaced by a raw, devastating vulnerability. "I remember the smell of the copper in the snow. I remember the exact trajectory of her wings. But her name... it is gone. It is just a blank wall of fog in my mind, Jaeyun."
Panic, hot and volatile, flared within the ancient beast. Jake gasped as the ambient temperature in the cavern skyrocketed within seconds. A low, dangerous growl rattled deep in Heeseung’s chest, and tiny sparks of golden flame licked at the corners of his lips. The hand around Jake’s waist clenched with enough force to bruise, pinning the human helplessly against the heavy desk.
In a sudden burst of frustration at his own decaying mind, Heeseung raised his other hand—his fingernails instantly lengthening into sharp, black talons—and slammed his fist onto the stone desk. The impact cracked the heavy stone, and a stray ember from his breath drifted dangerously close to the freshly written manuscript.
"No! The paper!" Jake cried out, completely forgetting his own safety.
Driven by a scribe's instinct to protect the written word, Jake dropped his quill. He didn't pull away from the terrifying entity looming over him. Instead, he twisted his torso around as much as Heeseung's iron grip would allow, and threw his smaller, ink-stained hands squarely over Heeseung’s face.
He cupped the dragon's sharp, pale jawline, his thumbs pressing firmly against the shimmering scales on Heeseung’s flushing cheekbones.
"Heeseung, look at me. Breathe," Jake commanded, his voice trembling but remarkably steady.
The sudden shock of cool, mortal flesh against his burning skin jotted Heeseung’s system. The sparks in his mouth died out. The predatory, blinding amber glow in his eyes flickered, focusing entirely on the small, fierce human clinging to his face.
"Look at me," Jake whispered again, his own heart drumming a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He was so incredibly fragile compared to this god, yet he refused to let go. "It is alright if you forget her name. I have written everything else down. The snow, the valleys, the color of her wings—it is all safe here on the paper. It won't disappear because I hold it for you."
Heeseung stared at him, his chest heaving. The sheer contrast between them was dizzying; Heeseung’s large, scarred hands could easily snap Jake's neck, yet he let himself be anchored entirely by the gentle touch of a fragile human boy.
Slowly, the oppressive heat in the cave began to dissipate. The tension in Heeseung’s shoulders melted away, and he let out a long, shuddering sigh, exhaling a harmless wisp of gray smoke. He leaned heavily into Jake’s palms, closing his eyes as if seeking shelter in the touch.
"You are a strange creature, Sim Jaeyun," Heeseung murmured, his voice dropping into an incredibly soft, exhausted register. He reached up, covering Jake’s smaller hands with his own large, dark-nailed ones, pressing them tighter against his cheeks. "Any other human would have pleaded for their life. You pleaded for the parchment."
Jake felt a crimson blush creep back up his neck, suddenly acutely aware of how close they were. Their breath mingled in the warm air. Heeseung’s lips were only inches from his own.
"Books can't defend themselves," Jake muttered softly, trying to look away, but Heeseung wouldn't let him.
Heeseung opened his eyes, the amber depths now soft, warm, and intensely focused on the scribe. He slid his hands down from his face, wrapping them around Jake's wrists, anchoring the human firmly against his chest.
"And who will defend you, little scribe?" Heeseung asked, a dangerous, possessive tilt to his lips. "You belong to a dragon now. Your words, your hands... your safety. I will keep you here, enclosed in gold, until the end of your short, beautiful life."
Jake's breath hitched. The words should have sounded like a threat, a grim reminder of his captivity. But looking at the profound, desperate devotion swirling in Heeseung's eyes, and feeling the protective warmth of the dragon enveloping him, Jake realized with a sudden, terrifying jolt that he didn't want to leave.
"Then let us keep writing," Jake whispered, his voice barely audible. "Before the fog comes back."
Heeseung smiled—a rare, breathtaking sight that made Jake's stomach flip—and gently pressed his forehead against Jake's shoulder once more, guiding the scribe's hand back toward the golden quill.
——
Weeks bled seamlessly into one another, measured not by the rising and setting of the sun—which rarely pierced the depths of the subterranean cavern—but by the steady accumulation of ink on vellum. The mountain of blank pages Jake had arrived with was rapidly dwindling, replaced by a growing stack of heavy, leather-bound volumes that contained the very soul of the ancient world.
And, increasingly, the soul of Lee Heeseung.
The nature of their sessions had shifted. In the beginning, Heeseung had dictated grand, sweeping historical epics: the rise and fall of dynasties, the migration of ancient beasts, the cataclysmic wars fought before mankind even learned to forge iron. But as the days lengthened, the memories Heeseung pulled from the deep recesses of his mind grew intensely personal.
"Year four-hundred of the Solar Era," Heeseung murmured one evening.
The cavern was quiet, illuminated only by the soft, warm glow of several large crystals that hummed with faint draconic magic. Heeseung was in his human form, sitting not on a throne of gold, but on the floor directly beside Jake’s stool. His long legs were drawn up, and his broad back was leaned casually against Jake’s calves, using the smaller man as a physical anchor.
Jake’s fingers danced across the paper. "What happened in that year, Heeseung?"
He had dropped the formal titles a week ago, prompted by the dragon’s low, disapproving growl every time Jake said 'My Lord.'
"I built a palace," Heeseung said, his voice carrying a dreamy, faraway quality. He tilted his head back, resting the crown of his dark head against Jake’s knee. From this angle, Jake could look down and see the relaxed curve of Heeseung’s lips, the sharp line of his throat. "It was made of white marble and glass, perched on a cliff overlooking the sapphire seas of the south. I spent fifty years gathering the materials. I wanted to see if a creature of fire and destruction could create something beautiful, something permanent."
"Did you live there?" Jake asked, dipping his quill into the dark indigo ink.
"For a time," Heeseung whispered. He reached up, his large, pale hand blindly searching until his long fingers wrapped loosely around Jake’s left ankle, tracing the bone beneath the fabric of his trousers. The touch sent a subtle, electric spike of heat straight up Jake’s spine. "But marble cracks. Glass shatters. Humans... humans die, Jaeyun. I invited a mortal poet to stay there once. A young girl with eyes like summer leaves. She wrote verses about my flight. But she grew old in the blink of an eye. She withered, and when she died, the palace felt like a tomb. So, I crushed it beneath my coils and flew away."
Jake’s hand paused for a fraction of a second, his heart squeezing. He looked down at Heeseung, whose amber eyes were staring blankly at the dark ceiling of the cave.
This was the underlying tragedy of Heeseung's existence. To a dragon, a human life was nothing more than a passing season, a brief spark of light that flared and vanished in a matter of moments. Jake knew that to Heeseung, he was just another fleeting season. A temporary keeper of tales who would eventually wither away, leaving the dragon alone in his golden cage once more.
So why does he hold me like I am his entire world? Jake wondered, his gaze lingering on the possessive, heavy grip Heeseung maintained on his ankle.
"Why did you choose me, then?" Jake asked softly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "If mortals only bring you grief, why bring another one into your home?"
Heeseung shifted. In one fluid, shockingly fast movement, the immortal being rose from the floor. Before Jake could react, Heeseung stepped into his space, his large hands gripping the armrests of Jake’s wooden chair, effectively trapping the scribe between his body and the desk.
Heeseung leaned in, his broad chest nearly brushing against Jake’s nose. The scent of ozone and rich, heated copper enveloped Jake instantly, making his breath hitch.
"Because you are different, Sim Jaeyun," Heeseung murmured, his voice dropping into a low, possessive purr that vibrated directly into Jake’s chest. He leaned closer still, until his sharp jawline brushed against Jake’s cheek, his lips hovering mere millimeters from the shell of Jake’s ear. "The others wrote for their kings. They wrote for gold, or out of fear. But you... you look at me and you do not see a weapon. You do not see a monster to be slain or worshipped. You see me. You feel my grief, and your hands bleed ink just to keep me whole."
Heeseung withdrew just enough to look Jake dead in the eye. The molten amber of his pupils was incredibly intense, burning with an emotion so raw and fiercely protective that it left Jake completely breathless.
"I chose you because I knew that if I am destined to forget the world, I want your words to be the last thing I read," Heeseung whispered, his gaze dropping briefly to Jake’s parted lips before snapping back to his eyes. "And because... I cannot bear the thought of anyone else touching your ink-stained hands."
Jake’s heart was beating so violently he was certain Heeseung could hear it. The sheer emotional weight of the dragon's devotion was terrifying, yet it filled Jake with a profound, dizzying warmth. He felt a desperate urge to reach out, to wrap his arms around Heeseung’s neck and pull him closer, to offer whatever comfort his fragile, mortal soul could provide.
But before Jake could find his voice, a sudden, jarring change fractured the atmosphere.
Heeseung froze. The warmth in his amber eyes instantly vanished, replaced by a terrifying, hollow blankness. He stumbled backward, his hands ripping away from the chair. He clutched his temples, his breathing turning ragged and harsh.
"Heeseung?" Jake stood up instantly, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. Panic seized his throat. "What is it? What’s wrong?"
"The... the southern palace," Heeseung rasped, his voice trembling as tiny, volatile sparks of golden fire escaped his lips, singeing the air. He shook his head violently, his sharp talons digging into his own scalp. "The poet... what was the name of the sea? Jaeyun, what was the color of the marble? I... I just said it. I just told you..."
"It’s alright, it’s sapphire! The sea was sapphire, and the marble was white," Jake rushed forward, completely disregarding the danger as Heeseung’s skin began to shimmer with phantom obsidian scales. Jake reached out, grabbing Heeseung’s wrists, trying to pull his hands away from his head. "Look at me, Heeseung! I have it written down! It’s right here!"
"No, it’s slipping," Heeseung groaned, a low, guttural dragon roar echoing from the depths of his chest. He didn't look at Jake; his eyes were wide, staring into a void that Jake couldn't see. "There is a gap. A massive gap in my mind. The entire fifth century... it’s gone, Jaeyun. I can’t remember who wore the crown. I can’t remember the battles. The fog... it’s swallowing the pages."
Heeseung pushed Jake away—not out of malice, but out of a sudden, desperate fear of hurting him. The force of the shove sent Jake stumbling back against the desk, knocking over a stack of fresh vellum.
With a breathless, agonizing cry, Heeseung collapsed to his knees, his human form flickering violently. For a terrifying second, the shadow of a massive, thrashing dragon tail materialized behind him, smashing into a pile of ancient gold coins and sending them raining down across the cavern in a chaotic, deafening clatter.
Jake didn't run away. He watched Heeseung huddle into himself on the cold stone floor, a powerful god brought to his knees by the cruel, invisible erosion of time.
The gap in Heeseung's memory was growing wider. The Dragon’s Fade was accelerating.
Jake swallowed the lump of terror in his throat. He didn't look at the scattered gold or the cracked stone. Instead, he dropped to his knees, crawling through the debris until he reached Heeseung's trembling form. He didn't say a word. He simply wrapped his arms around Heeseung's broad shoulders, burying his face into the dragon’s dark hair, holding on with every ounce of strength his small, mortal body possessed.
Heeseung stiffened at the embrace, but as the cool, steadying warmth of Jake's presence seeped into him, the flickering illusion of scales subsided. Slowly, tentatively, Heeseung reached up, burying his face into the crook of Jake's neck, clinging to the scribe like an anchor in a raging storm.
"Don't sleep tonight," Jake whispered fiercely into Heeseung's hair, his hands gripping the dragon's back. "We have so many missing pages to fill. I will stay up with you. We will write until there is no fog left."
——
The mountain woke with a vengeance. Outside the cavern's hidden mouth, a howling blizzard screeched through the jagged peaks, burying the world beneath sheets of suffocating ice. Even deep within the subterranean depths, the drop in pressure was palpable. The air, usually thick and stiflingly warm from the dragon’s internal furnace, began to sour with a bitter, creeping chill.
Jake sat at his stone desk, his fingers so stiff he could barely grip the golden quill. His breath bloomed into small, pale clouds of vapor before dissipating into the dark. He rubbed his hands together, his skin pale and goosebump-ridden, but he refused to stop working. He was transcribing the fragments of the sixth century that Heeseung had managed to salvage before the sudden drop in temperature had forced the immortal being into a sullen, exhausted silence.
Suddenly, a massive shadow loomed over the desk.
Jake didn't jump. He had grown accustomed to the silent, suffocating presence of Heeseung’s true form. The dragon approached slowly, his colossal obsidian-and-gold scales scraping against the stone floor with a sound like grinding tectonic plates. The beast’s amber eyes, each larger than Jake’s entire torso, glowed with a restless, protective anxiety.
Heeseung let out a low, vibrating rumble that shook the dust from the stalactites. Then, with an agonizingly careful grace, the dragon began to coil himself around Jake’s workspace.
It was an overwhelming display of size difference. The massive serpentine tail, thick as an ancient oak tree, slid across the floor, forming a heavy, impenetrable ring around Jake’s desk and stool. Higher and higher the coils rose, stacking like walls of black armor until Jake was completely enclosed in a small, private sanctuary of flesh and scales.
Nesting behavior. Jake recognized it from the old bestiaries he had read back in Oakhaven. Dragons nested when they felt threatened, or when they were desperately trying to preserve something precious from the cold.
The heat radiating from Heeseung’s massive body was immediate and suffocatingly wonderful. The icy draft vanished, replaced by the deep, comforting warmth of a roaring hearth. The dragon lowered his massive head over the edge of the coiled wall, resting his heavy snout on the edge of the stone desk. A soft huff of warm air escaped his nostrils, rustling the papers and completely thawing Jake’s frozen fingers.
"Thank you, Heeseung," Jake whispered, stretching out a hand to gently stroke the smooth, hot scales right beneath the dragon's eye. The beast leaned into the touch, his heavy eyelids fluttering shut in contentment.
A blinding flash of golden light suddenly illuminated the inside of the scaly nest, forcing Jake to blink. When his vision cleared, the massive dragon was gone. Instead, Heeseung stood in his human guise, hovering directly over Jake.
But something was different. The regal, composed aura Heeseung usually maintained was entirely gone, stripped away by the cold and the exhaustion of his fading mind. His dark hair was messy, falling into his eyes, and his sweeping robes were slightly disheveled. His amber eyes burned with a dark, intense hunger that made Jake’s breath hitch.
Without a word, Heeseung stepped forward, invading Jake's space completely. He didn't wait for permission. He reached down, his large hands gripping Jake under the armpits, and effortlessly lifted the smaller man straight off the wooden stool.
Jake gasped, his hands instinctively flying to clutch Heeseung’s broad shoulders for balance as he was hoisted into the air like a child. Heeseung sat down heavily on the plush pile of silk tapestries he had dragged into the center of the nest, pulling Jake down directly into his lap.
"Heeseung—" Jake protested weakly, his face exploding into a furious, burning blush as he found himself straddling the dragon’s muscular thighs, his chest pressed flush against Heeseung's.
"Quiet," Heeseung muttered, his voice a raw, gravelly purr. He wrapped his long, powerful arms tightly around Jake’s waist, burying his face into the crook of Jake's neck. He squeezed so hard that Jake’s ribs ached, anchoring the human to his chest as if he were a piece of stolen treasure he could never let go. "You are freezing. Your hands were shaking. I could hear your heartbeat slowing down from across the cavern."
"I was just cold," Jake whispered, his voice trembling as the intoxicating heat of Heeseung’s body melted away the last of his chills. The proximity was dizzying. He could feel every muscle in Heeseung’s chest, the heavy, rhythmic thud of his draconic heart, and the sheer, overwhelming mass of the man holding him.
"I cannot let you break," Heeseung whispered against Jake’s skin, his lips brushing the sensitive column of Jake’s throat, sending a violent shiver down the scribe's spine. "If you break, my history dies. If you break... I am left alone in the dark."
Jake's heart squeezed with a painful, overwhelming tenderness. He stopped resisting. Slowly, tentatively, he slid his smaller, ink-stained hands up Heeseung’s neck, burying his fingers into the soft, dark strands of the dragon’s hair. He leaned his weight into Heeseung, letting himself be entirely consumed by the titan’s embrace.
"I’m not going anywhere," Jake murmured softly. "I’m right here."
Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at him. The intensity in the dragon's eyes was suffocating. His gaze dropped to Jake's lips, which were parted slightly in surprise, before snapping back to his eyes. The possessiveness in Heeseung’s gaze had mutated into something deeper, something fiercely, devastatingly romantic.
"Jaeyun," Heeseung breathed, his thumb tracing the sharp line of Jake's jaw, his sharp, dark fingernail grazing the skin with terrifying gentleness. "You are a mortal. A brief, fragile spark. Why do you look at me with such eyes? Why are you not afraid of the fire inside me?"
"Because your fire keeps me warm," Jake answered honestly, his voice barely a whisper.
Heeseung let out a low, ragged sound—halfway between a sigh and a growl. He leaned forward, closing the remaining distance between them, and pressed his lips firmly against Jake's.
The shock of it made Jake’s eyes widen, but within a fraction of a second, he melted. It was their first kiss, and it tasted of old smoke, sweetness, and desperation. Heeseung kissed the way a dragon conquered—dominating, deep, and utterly consuming. His large hand moved to the back of Jake's head, his long fingers tangling in the brown curls, tilting Jake's face up to deepen the kiss.
Jake let out a soft, breathy whine against Heeseung’s lips, his body turning entirely to liquid beneath the onslaught. He clung to Heeseung’s shoulders, his fingers tearing at the fabric of the dark robes as he kissed back with an unexpected fervor, pouring all of his unsaid devotion, his fears, and his growing love into the touch.
When Heeseung finally broke the kiss, his breathing was ragged, his amber eyes glowing with a dangerously dark, heavy heat. Tiny embers flared at the back of his throat as he exhaled a hot breath against Jake’s swollen lips.
"You are mine, Sim Jaeyun," Heeseung growled softly, his hands sliding down to grip Jake’s hips with bruising force, lifting him slightly to press their lower bodies closer together. The stark contrast in their sizes and strength was blindingly clear; Heeseung could dominate him completely, could take whatever he wanted, yet his touch held an undercurrent of reverence. "Every word you write, every breath you take. I will weave you into my memory so deeply that not even eternity can erase you."
Jake clutched Heeseung’s chest, his head spinning from the sudden, intense spike of desire pooling in his abdomen. He looked up at his captor, his god, his dragon, and smiled through his breathless panting.
"Then weave me in, Heeseung," Jake whispered, leaning back in to press his lips against Heeseung's jawline. "Don't leave a single page blank."
——
The blizzard outside eventually died down, leaving behind a heavy, suffocating silence that seemed to press against the mountain. Inside the nest of silk and scales, Jake woke up slowly, wrapped in a warmth so profound it felt like a protective cocoon. Heeseung’s powerful arm was still locked securely around his waist, pinning Jake’s back flush against the dragon’s broad, muscular chest.
For a few quiet moments, Jake simply lay there, listening to the deep, rhythmic thrum of Heeseung’s heartbeat. His body still ached with a sweet, lingering soreness from the night before—a visceral reminder of the intense, consuming passion they had shared beneath the shadow of the dragon's coils. Heeseung had been devastatingly thorough, claiming every inch of Jake’s skin with a fierce, possessive reverence that left no doubt as to who the scribe belonged to.
Jake smiled softly, gently prying Heeseung’s heavy arm off his waist. He slipped out of the bed of silks, shivering slightly as the cooler air of the wider cavern hit his skin. He needed to wash his face, stretch his stiff muscles, and prepare the vellum for another day of writing.
As he walked past the stone desk, he noticed Heeseung shifting behind him. The immortal being rose from the pile of tapestries, his towering silhouette casting a long shadow across the gold-strewn floor.
"Good morning," Jake said softly, turning around with a warm smile. "Did you sleep well—"
The words died in Jake’s throat.
Heeseung was standing entirely still, but his posture was completely rigid. His hands hung loosely at his sides, his broad shoulders tense. But it was his face that made Jake’s blood turn to ice.
The warmth, the fierce devotion, the sharp, calculating intelligence that usually defined Heeseung’s features—all of it was gone. His face was a completely blank, emotionless mask. And his eyes—the vibrant, molten amber pools that had gazed at Jake with such suffocating love just hours prior—were wide, hollow, and utterly empty. They looked like cold, stagnant glass.
"Heeseung?" Jake took a tentative step forward, his heart skipping a beat. "Heeseung, what’s wrong?"
The man didn't answer. He tilted his head, his pupils dilating as he tracked Jake’s movement. There was no recognition in his gaze. He looked at Jake the way a wild predator looks at an unfamiliar, intrusive insect that had crawled into its territory.
A low, primal vibration began to rumble deep within Heeseung’s chest. It wasn't the affectionate, gravelly purr he used to soothe Jake. It was a warning. A territorial, deadly growl that vibrated the very stones beneath Jake's boots.
"Heeseung, it's me. It's Jaeyun," Jake whispered, his voice cracking as a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He held his hands up, palms open, showing he was no threat. "Your scribe. Remember?"
Suddenly, Heeseung gasped, a sharp, agonizing breath that seemed to tear through his lungs. He threw his head back and let out a guttural, deafening roar that shook the entire cavern. The sound was so violent that several ancient glass chalices on the treasure piles shattered into dust.
Before Jake’s eyes, Heeseung’s human form began to fracture. A blinding, volatile explosion of golden light and black smoke erupted from his body. The pressure in the air plummeted instantly, throwing Jake off his feet. He crashed hard onto a pile of gold coins, groaning as the sharp edges of the metal dug into his back.
Through the swirling smoke, the terrifying truth materialized. The dragon had returned, but he was completely out of control.
The colossal obsidian beast thrashed blindly, his massive serpentine tail slamming into the stone pillars. Towering mountains of ancient books were knocked over, centuries of history scattering like dead leaves in a gale. The dragon’s jaw snapped open, and volatile, white-hot embers spilled from his teeth, threatening to ignite everything in sight.
The beast's massive head swung toward the floor, those giant, hollow amber eyes locking onto the small human scrambling through the gold. To the mindless dragon, Jake wasn't his beloved keeper; he was a thief. An intruder in his sanctuary.
With a terrifying hiss, the dragon lunged. A massive, clawed hand—each talon sharper than a royal lance—slammed down directly toward Jake.
"Heeseung, no!" Jake screamed, throwing himself to the side.
The giant talons missed his torso by mere inches, splintering the stone floor where he had been lying a second ago. The shockwave of the impact sent Jake rolling down a hill of gold coins. He scrambled to his feet, gasping for air, his hands bleeding from scraping against the sharp treasure.
He was completely trapped. The dragon was blocking the only exit from the alcove, his massive wings unfurling, blocking out what little light remained in the cave. He was preparing to breathe fire—a torrent of apocalyptic heat that would reduce Jake to ash in a fraction of a second.
Jake looked at the monster looming over him. He could see the white-hot light building at the back of the dragon's throat. He could run. He could hide behind a stone pillar and pray for survival.
But as he looked past the terrifying fire, Jake saw the agony in the beast's hollow eyes. Heeseung wasn't doing this out of malice. He was lost. He was drowning in a blank, terrifying fog, unable to find his way back to reality. The Dragon’s Fade had taken his mind completely.
If I run now, he will burn the books. He will burn himself. He will wake up alone in the ashes, and he will never remember who he killed, Jake realized, a sudden, fierce determination overriding his primal terror.
Instead of fleeing, Jake stood his ground. He took a deep, steadying breath, stepped right into the dragon’s line of sight, and shouted with everything he had.
"Lee Heeseung! Look at me!"
The dragon paused, the fire hovering at the precipice of his jaws. The sheer authority in the small mortal’s voice seemed to strike a chord deep within his ancient, fractured instincts.
Jake didn't hesitate. He rushed forward, running straight toward the giant, terrifying snout of the beast. He scrambled up the shattered stone, ignoring the blistering heat radiating from the dragon's scales, and threw his entire body against the side of the beast's massive jaw.
He wrapped his arms around a single, giant scale, pressing his chest flush against the hot armor.
"I am Sim Jaeyun!" Jake cried out, his tears finally spilling over his cheeks, sizzling as they hit the hot dragon skin. "I am your scribe! You diculik me from the archives because you didn't want to forget! You held me all night! You told me I belong to you! Look at my hands, Heeseung! Look at the ink!"
Jake pulled his right hand away and slammed his ink-stained palm directly onto the smooth, dark skin right beneath the dragon’s massive amber eye.
The contrast was absolute—a tiny, fragile human hand, stained with indigo ink, pressed against a primordial god of destruction.
For a terrifying, agonizing second, the world stood still. The fire at the back of the dragon's throat crackled dangerously.
Then, a sudden, violent shudder ran through the beast’s colossal frame.
The white-hot light in his throat slowly dimmed and died out. The hollow, glassy blankness in his giant amber eyes began to fracture, replaced by a sudden, agonizing wave of recognition. The dragon let out a low, whimpering sound—a noise so heartbreakingly pathetic it didn't seem possible for a creature of his size.
The blinding golden light flashed once more, and the heavy mass of the dragon vanished.
Heeseung collapsed forward in his human form, falling heavily onto his knees. He was trembling violently, his face pale as death, his breathing shallow and panicked. He looked down at his own large, pale hands, his chest heaving as the reality of what he had almost done crashed into his mind.
"Jaeyun..." Heeseung choked out, his voice raw, stripped of all its regal resonance. He looked up at Jake, his amber eyes wide with absolute horror and profound, devastating guilt. "I... I almost... you... I didn't know who you were."
Jake didn't waste a single moment. He dropped to his knees in front of the trembling dragon and threw his arms tightly around Heeseung’s neck, pulling the larger man firmly against his chest.
"It's okay, I'm here. You didn't hurt me," Jake whispered fiercely, burying his face into Heeseung's dark hair, holding him with a strength he didn't know he possessed. "I'm safe. We are safe."
Heeseung let out a ragged, broken sob. He wrapped his powerful arms around Jake’s waist, burying his face into the scribe's shoulder, gripping him so tightly it was almost painful. The all-powerful, immortal dragon was weeping, terrified of his own mind.
"The fog... it was so thick, Jaeyun," Heeseung whispered against Jake’s neck, his entire body shaking. "I woke up and there was nothing. No empires, no stars... no you. I was completely alone in the dark. If I had burned you... if I had killed you..."
"You didn't," Jake interrupted firmly, pulling back just enough to cup Heeseung's face, forcing the dragon to look at him. "Because I will always call you back. Do you hear me? Even if you forget my name, I will keep shouting it until you remember."
Heeseung gazed at him, his heart breaking at the absolute, unconditional devotion in the human's eyes. He leaned into Jake's touch, kissing the ink-stained palms of the boy who had become his only anchor in eternity.
Later that night, while Heeseung slept an exhausted, fitful sleep beside him, Jake sat at the cracked stone desk. He didn't write the history of the world. He didn't write about ancient kings or fallen empires.
Instead, with a fierce, desperate urgency, Jake began to write a new book. He detailed every single thing about their time together—the way Heeseung leaned on his shoulder, the exact shade of his amber eyes when he was happy, the warmth of his lips, and the sound of his laugh.
Jake worked until his fingers bled ink, racing against the terrifying clock of the dragon's decaying mind. He would write a guide. A map through the fog. So that the next time Heeseung woke up lost, Jake would have the words to bring him home.
——
The tranquility that followed the storm of Heeseung’s mind was fragile, like a thin sheet of ice over a roaring, turbulent river. For days, Heeseung stayed exclusively in his human form, rarely leaving Jake’s side. He had become intensely, almost suffocatingly possessive. Whenever Jake sat at the stone desk, Heeseung was there, his large hand resting heavily on Jake’s thigh, or his fingers loosely coiled around Jake's wrist, constantly verifying that his anchor was still real, still breathing, and still his.
Jake didn't mind the possessiveness. In fact, he leaned into it. He spent his days writing down the newly salvaged memories, but his nights were dedicated entirely to the secret journal—the map he was constructing to guide Heeseung back to sanity whenever the fog returned.
But peace in a world of mortals is a luxury that never lasts.
It happened during an hour when the cavern was cast in a deep, sapphire twilight. Jake was neatly cataloging a set of old manuscripts when a sound shattered the quietude. It wasn't the internal rumble of the mountain, nor was it the crackle of Heeseung's fire.
It was the sharp, piercing, metallic blast of a war horn.
The sound echoed through the rocky tunnels, sharp and discordant. It was a human sound. The battle horn of the Oakhaven Royal Guard.
Heeseung snapped his head toward the cavern entrance, his posture instantly turning rigid. The gentle, melancholic expression on his face vanished, replaced by the cold, terrifying mask of an apex predator. His amber eyes flared with a sudden, blinding light, the pupils slit-thin.
"Manusia," Heeseung hissed, his voice dropping into a guttural register that shook the loose coins on the floor. "They have breached the lower tunnels."
Jake’s heart violently dropped into his stomach. The Royal Guard. He had forgotten about them. He had forgotten that to the Kingdom of Oakhaven, he was a citizen who had been brutally abducted by a monstrous beast. They weren't here to destroy an ancient god; they thought they were performing a righteous rescue mission.
"Heeseung, wait!" Jake cried out, scrambling up from his stool as Heeseung took a step forward. "They think I'm in danger! They don't understand!"
"They bring cold iron and dragon-slaying spears into my home, Jaeyun," Heeseung growled, a dangerous wisp of gray smoke curling from his lips. His skin began to flicker violently, patches of glittering obsidian scales materializing along his neck and forearms. "They seek to take what is mine. I will reduce them to ash before they can even look at you."
"No! Please, don't kill them!" Jake rushed forward, throwing his small body directly in front of Heeseung, slamming his hands against the dragon's broad chest. The heat radiating from Heeseung was already rising, making the air distort around them. "They are my people, Heeseung! If you massacre them, the kingdom will never stop sending armies. Let me talk to them. I can make them leave!"
Heeseung looked down at Jake, his mind warring between his fierce, deeply ingrained territorial instincts and the desperate love he held for the human clutching his robes. But before he could make a choice, a sudden wave of dizziness hit him. Heeseung gasped, stumbling back a step, clutching his temple as a sharp spasm of pain shot through his decaying mind.
The timing couldn't have been worse. The stress of the intrusion was triggering the fog.
"Jaeyun... my head..." Heeseung groaned, his wujud human form flickering erratically. The obsidian scales advanced and retreated across his skin like a chaotic tide. His vision blurred, the empty, glassy look threatening to take over his eyes once more.
"Heeseung! No, stay with me!" Jake yelled, but it was too late.
The sound of heavy, armored footsteps echoed loudly as a squad of elite knights broke through the final cavern archway. Leading them was Sir Caleb, a towering ksatria in gleaming silver armor, holding a massive broadsword coated in runes meant to pierce dragon hide.
"Step away from the beast, Scribe Jaeyun!" Caleb roared, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "We have come to deliver you from the monster!"
"Stop! Drop your weapons!" Jake turned around, shielding the disoriented Heeseung with his own body. He spread his arms wide, his face pale but determined. "You don't understand! I am not a prisoner! He hasn't harmed me! You must leave this place immediately!"
Sir Caleb paused, his brow furrowing beneath his iron visor. He looked at Jake’s disheveled hair, his ink-stained hands, and then at Heeseung, who was currently on his knees, growling weakly as he fought against the suffocating fog in his own brain.
"The beast has bewitched you," Caleb declared, his eyes hardening with a grim, righteous conviction. "It has used its dark magic to twist your mind, just like the tales of old. Knights, advance! Slay the dragon and secure the scribe!"
"No!" Jake screamed.
Three heavily armored knights charged forward, their iron-tipped spears leveled at Heeseung’s chest.
Despite his fractured mind, Heeseung’s survival instincts took over the moment he saw the weapons threatening both him and Jake. With a deafening, guttural roar, Heeseung didn't fully transform into a dragon—the fog prevented a complete shapeshift—but a pair of massive, skeletal black wings erupted from his back with a violent snap.
With one powerful sweep of his wing, Heeseung sent two of the charging knights flying across the cavern, their armor clattering loudly as they crashed into a hill of gold coins.
But Sir Caleb was fast. Utilizing the distraction, the commander lunged forward, his runic broadsword flashing in the dim light. He swung the blade directly at Heeseung’s exposed shoulder.
"Heeseung, look out!"
Jake didn't think. He didn't calculate the mass of a sword against human flesh. He simply threw himself forward, trying to push Heeseung out of the trajectory.
Heeseung’s draconic reflexes, even dulled by the fog, were faster. Sensing the danger to Jake, Heeseung twisted his torso, using his own broad back as a shield.
The runic blade sliced deeply across Heeseung’s shoulder blade.
Instead of red crimson, a brilliant, boiling liquid gold erupted from the wound. Heeseung let out a sharp, agonizing cry, the magic on the blade burning through his immortal flesh. The sheer pain of the anti-dragon spell sent a violent shockwave of pure kinetic energy exploding outward from his body.
The blast was so powerful it blew Sir Caleb and the remaining knights backward, knocking them unconscious against the stone walls.
But the shockwave also sent Jake flying. He tumbled backward, his head striking the edge of the stone desk with a sickening thud.
"Jaeyun!"
The sight of Jake falling, blood suddenly trickling from a small cut on the scribe’s temple, acted like a lightning bolt through the fog in Heeseung's mind. The pain of the wound was nothing compared to the absolute, primal terror that gripped his chest at the sight of Jake lying still on the floor.
The fog in his mind cleared instantly, burned away by pure, unadulterated desperation.
Heeseung scrambled across the floor on all fours, ignoring the liquid gold bleeding from his back. He scooped Jake up into his arms, pulling the smaller man against his chest. His hands were shaking violently as he checked Jake’s pulse.
"Jaeyun... please, open your eyes. Wake up," Heeseung whispered, his voice cracking with an agonizing fear he hadn't felt in five thousand years. "I am sorry. I failed to protect you. Please..."
Jake let out a soft, pained groan, his eyelashes fluttering open. His vision was blurry, but he could see the beautiful, terrified amber eyes of his dragon looking down at him.
"Heeseung..." Jake muttered weakly, reaching up with an ink-stained hand to touch Heeseung’s pale, blood-splattered cheek. "You... you know who I am."
"I know you," Heeseung wept, pressing his forehead against Jake’s. "I will always know you. But we cannot stay here. They know where we are. They will come back with an army, and I cannot guarantee your safety while my mind is broken."
Before the unconscious knights could stir, Heeseung stood up, cradling Jake securely against his chest like the most fragile, priceless manuscript in existence. With a violent snap of his massive black wings, Heeseung launched himself upward, crashing through the shattered dome of the cavern and soaring high into the freezing, midnight sky, leaving his ancient home and his mountains of gold behind.
——
The biting wind of the highest peaks howled like a chorus of dying gods. Here, atop the jagged spire of the world where no mortal breath was meant to be drawn, the air was thin, freezing, and desolate. There were no mountains of gold here, no comfortable velvet tapestries, and no library of ancient books. There was only a desolate stone ledge, a cavernous rift in the cliffside, and the cruel, unblinking stars above.
Heeseung collapsed onto the frozen stone, his human form shivering violently. The wound on his shoulder blade was still weeping liquid gold, the anti-dragon magic of the runic blade slowly poisoning his immortal veins. It pulsed with a sickening radiance, smoking slightly whenever the freezing mountain wind hit the exposed flesh.
Gently, with a tenderness that defied his agonizing pain, Heeseung lowered Jake onto a relatively smooth patch of stone inside the rift.
"Heeseung, you're bleeding," Jake gasped, his own head throbbing from the concussion he had sustained at the desk. He scrambled up, ignoring the dizziness that made the world tilt dangerously. He rushed to Heeseung's side, his small, ink-stained hands immediately hovering over the horrific golden wound. "Let me see it. We need to stop the bleeding. Is there anything I can do? Any dragon magic—"
"No," Heeseung rasped, his voice a broken whisper that was barely audible over the whistling wind. He slumped against the icy cave wall, his pale face completely devoid of color. His eyes—usually so bright and commanding—were dim, the molten amber flickering like a candle at the end of its wick. "The blade was forged in dragon-bane. It paralyzes my blood. It forces... it forces the mind to shut down."
Heeseung leaned his head back against the stone, his breathing shallow and rattling. A terrifying, familiar blankness began to creep into the edges of his pupils. The fog was returning, but this time, it wasn't a slow, creeping mist. It was a torrential, suffocating blizzard, fueled by the physical trauma of his wound.
"Jaeyun..." Heeseung choked out, a sudden, desperate panic piercing through his exhaustion. He reached out with a trembling hand, his long fingers blindly grabbing Jake's wrist. His grip was weak—shockingly weak compared to the iron hold he usually maintained. "It's coming. The final wall. I can feel the centuries collapsing. Five thousand years... vanished in a heartbeat. I can't... I can't remember the color of my own fire."
"Don't say that! Stay with me!" Jake cried, tears welling in his eyes and instantly freezing on his cheeks. He threw his arms around Heeseung’s broad, shivering shoulders, burying his face into the dragon's neck. He could feel the terrifying chill seeping into Heeseung's skin. The immortal furnace was going out.
"Listen to me, little scribe," Heeseung murmured, his voice growing dangerously detached, his eyes staring past Jake at the starry sky. "You must leave. Follow the eastern ridge down before the sunrise. The knights... they will find you. You will be safe. You will go back to your quiet library, back to your books..."
"No! I'm not leaving you!"
"You must!" Heeseung suddenly growled, a faint spark of his old, possessive fury flaring up before immediately dying out. He looked at Jake, his eyes swimming with a heartbreaking, lucid sorrow. "Before I lose my mind completely, Jaeyun. If the fog takes over while I am in this state, I will become a mindless beast. A monster of pure destruction. I won't remember you. I might... I might kill you. I would rather die alone on this mountain than look at my hands and realize I tore you apart."
Heeseung pushed Jake away, his hand shaking as he pointed toward the ledge. "Go. Forget the dragon. Let the ink dry."
Jake sat on the cold stone, his chest heaving with silent, agonizing sobs. He looked at the vast expanse of the world below them, then at the dying god before him. He was a mortal. His life was nothing more than a brief flicker of a candle compared to Heeseung's eternal existence. He was small, frail, and powerless against the forces of magic and time.
But then, Jake felt the heavy weight of the leather-bound book tucked securely inside the breast of his tunic.
It was the secret journal. The map he had spent every night writing.
A sudden, fierce defiance ignited within Jake’s soul. He wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his ink-stained hand, his jaw setting with a fierce determination that surprised even himself.
"I told you before, Lee Heeseung," Jake said, his voice ringing out loud and clear over the howling wind. "I am your scribe. My hands belong to you. And a scribe does not abandon the story before it's finished."
Jake didn't run. Instead, he crawled closer, straddling Heeseung's lap just as he had done in the warm cavern. He ripped open the front of his tunic, pulling out the thick journal, and slammed it open between them.
"Look at this," Jake commanded, forcing Heeseung's face toward the pages. "You don't need to remember anything, because I remembered it for you."
Heeseung blinked sleepily, his blurred vision focusing on the sharp, elegant script dancing across the parchment under the starlight.
"Chapter One," Jake began to read, his voice trembling with emotion but filled with an undeniable, anchoring gravity. "Heeseung is an ancient naga, a god of fire and gold, who has lived for five thousand years. But he is also a creature who is devastatingly gentle. He diculik a small, terrified scribe from Oakhaven, not to harm him, but to hold his soul."
"Jaeyun..." Heeseung whispered, a strange, electric spark flaring deep within his chest at the sound of Jake’s voice reading the words.
"Listen to me!" Jake sobbed, turning the pages frantically. "Chapter Two. Heeseung likes to rest his heavy head on my shoulder when he thinks. He smells like sandalwood and old smoke. He holds my waist from behind because his own mind feels too heavy, and he trusts me to hold him upright."
Jake grabbed Heeseung’s large, trembling hands and pressed them flat against the pages of the journal, right over the ink.
"Chapter Four," Jake's voice broke, a hot tear falling directly onto Heeseung's pale knuckles. "Heeseung kissed me in the middle of a blizzard. He held me so tightly that my ribs ached, and he told me that I am his. He told me he would weave me into his memory so deeply that not even eternity could erase me."
Jake dropped the book. He cupped Heeseung’s cold, sharp jawline with both of his hands, forcing the dragon to look into his eyes. The sheer contrast was blinding—the small, bruised, ink-stained human completely enveloping the massive, dying god.
"You promised me, Heeseung!" Jake cried out, his heart pouring out into the freezing air. "You said you would never let me go! You said my hands belong to you! If you forget me, I will read this book to you every single day until your mind bleeds gold again! I am your anchor! Look at me!"
As if answering a call from the very heavens, Jake leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly against Heeseung’s.
It was a kiss born of pure desperation, a mortal trying to breathe life back into a fading immortal. It was frantic, wet with tears, and fierce. Jake poured every ounce of his soul, his love, and his willingness to be consumed into the touch.
The moment their lips met, a violent jolt of pure magic shook Heeseung’s entire system.
The ink-stained hands on his face, the fierce, unconditional devotion of the mortal boy straddling his lap, the words of the book—they acted like a localized lightning strike, blasting through the thick, suffocating fog in Heeseung's brain. The poison of the dragon-bane met an unstoppable force: the absolute, unyielding will of a human who refused to let his dragon fade.
With a deep, guttural gasp, Heeseung’s amber eyes flared into a brilliant, blinding explosion of molten gold.
A wave of intense, apocalyptic heat erupted from his body, instantly melting the snow and ice for miles around the mountain peak. The freezing wind was obliterated, replaced by a roaring, suffocating warmth. The liquid gold bleeding from his back stopped, the anti-dragon magic burning away under the sheer force of his revived draconic core.
Heeseung wrapped his powerful arms around Jake’s waist, pulling the scribe against him with a sudden, bruising force that left Jake completely breathless. He kissed back with a feral, possessive hunger, marking Jake’s lips, his jaw, his throat, re-establishing his claim over the mortal who had just dragged him back from the abyss.
When they finally parted, Heeseung was panting, his chest heaving, but his eyes were sharp, clear, and burning with a profound, terrifyingly beautiful love. The fog was entirely gone, shattered into a thousand pieces by the weight of Jake's ink and devotion.
Heeseung looked down at the small human in his arms, his large hand gently stroking Jake's bruised temple.
"You are an incredibly foolish creature, Sim Jaeyun," Heeseung whispered, his voice a deep, gravelly purr that vibrated beautifully against Jake's chest. A soft, breathless smile touched his lips as he pressed his forehead against Jake's. "I told you to run, and you used my own history to chain me to you."
"I am a scribe," Jake panted, a relieved, exhausted smile breaking across his face as he buried his nose into Heeseung's neck, breathing in the restored scent of sandalwood and heat. "I like a happy ending."
"Then let us write the final chapter," Heeseung murmured, lifting Jake effortlessly into his arms as he stood up, his massive black wings unfurling against the starry sky, ready to find a new home where no one could ever disturb them again.
——
Two years had passed since the sky bled gold over the highest peak of the world.
Deep within a hidden valley forgotten by maps and guarded by dense, perpetual mists, a small stone cottage sat nestled against the face of a sheer cliff. It was a humble dwelling compared to a grand cavern of treasures or a royal archive, but it was alive. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and wild mountain flowers bloomed along the windowsills, kept alive by the unnatural, radiating warmth that soaked the very soil of the valley.
Inside, the cottage was a sanctuary of paper and ink. Towering shelves lined every wall, packed to the brim with the leather-bound volumes Jake had spent the last two years finishing. The floor was covered in plush, thick rugs and silk tapestries, a domestic nod to the nesting instincts of the valley's other occupant.
Jake sat at a wide oak desk near the window, the morning sun casting a warm glow over his features. His hands were still stained a faint indigo at the fingertips, a perpetual badge of his profession. He was neatly bounding the final pages of the ninth volume of Heeseung’s history.
Suddenly, a massive shadow blocked the sunlight.
Jake didn't blink. He simply smiled, pausing his work as a low, deep thrumming sound vibrated through the wooden floorboards. Outside the window, a colossal snout covered in glittering, midnight-black and gold scales slithered into view. One giant amber eye, larger than the desk itself, stared in through the glass, watching Jake with an intense, unblinking adoration.
The contrast never failed to take Jake's breath away. He was a small, fragile mortal, yet this ancient god of destruction looked at him as if he were the center of the universe.
The dragon lowered his head, his massive snout gently pressing against the exterior stone wall of the cottage, letting out a hot, rumbling sigh that rattled the teacups on the shelf. Then, in a brilliant, blinding flash of golden light, the massive form vanished.
A moment later, the wooden door of the cottage slid open. Heeseung stepped inside in his human guise, clad in simple, loose-fitting black robes that did little to hide his broad, imposing stature. His dark hair was slightly windblown, and his amber eyes burned with a clear, sharp intelligence.
He didn't say a word. He walked straight toward the desk, his movements fluid and possessive. He stopped right behind Jake’s chair, leaning his large frame forward until his broad chest pressed flush against Jake’s back. With practiced ease, Heeseung lowered his head, burying his face into the crook of Jake’s neck, resting his heavy chin on the scribe’s shoulder.
"You look tired, little scribe," Heeseung murmured, his deep, baritone voice sending a comforting vibration straight down Jake’s spine. He slid his long, powerful arms around Jake’s waist, locking his hands over the human’s stomach, pulling him securely against his chest.
"I'm almost finished with the ninth volume," Jake replied softly, tilting his head to press a gentle kiss against Heeseung’s pale cheek. Heeseung’s skin was intoxicatingly warm, smelling of ozone, fresh pine, and ancient smoke. "You gave me a lot of details about the elven migration last week."
Heeseung went quiet for a moment, his grip around Jake's waist tightening slightly. The silence in the cottage stretched, heavy but comfortable.
"Jaeyun," Heeseung whispered, his lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath Jake’s ear. "What happened this morning? Before I went to fly across the ridge?"
Jake’s heart gave a familiar, tender squeeze. The Dragon’s Fade was not a disease that could be completely cured; the poison from the runic blade had been purged, but five thousand years of memories were still a heavy burden. The fog still rolled in from time to time, stealing little pieces of the present.
But they weren't afraid anymore. They had a routine. They had a map.
"You woke up early because the bed was too hot," Jake answered patiently, his voice flowing like a soothing balm. He turned his head slightly, his brown curls brushing against Heeseung's nose. "You tried to make tea but almost burned the kettle. Then, you kissed me until I couldn't breathe, and you told me you would be back before the ink dried."
A soft, self-deprecating chuckle rumbled in Heeseung’s chest. He leaned heavier into Jake, closing his eyes as he let the words anchor him back to the present.
"Ah. Yes. I remember the tea," Heeseung murmured, a breathless smile touching his lips. "And I remember the kissing. I will always remember the kissing."
Heeseung opened his eyes, the molten amber pools soft and blindingly affectionate as he looked down at the open book on the desk. He reached down, his large, pale hand covering Jake's smaller, ink-stained one, guiding the scribe to turn back to the very first page of the very first volume.
"Read it to me, Jaeyun," Heeseung commanded softly, his voice dropping into a low, devoted purr. "The first chapter. Let me hear how we began."
Jake smiled, leaning back against the solid, unyielding fortress of Heeseung’s chest. He cleared his throat, his fingers tracing the elegant, indigo script that had bound a dragon to a mortal for the rest of their days.
"Chapter One," Jake read aloud, his gentle voice filling the quiet cottage, carrying an absolute, unwavering certainty. "Your name is Heeseung, you are an immortal dragon that has lived for thousands of years, and you love me very much, your scribe. You were kidnapped by me from the royal library to protect your soul, but in the end, you gave your whole heart into my ink."
Heeseung let out a deep, contented growl, his arms squeezing Jake tightly against his heart.
The empires of the world would continue to rise and fall. The mountains would crumble into the sea, and the stars above would eventually burn out into darkness. But here, in this quiet valley, wrapped in the protective warmth of the dragon’s embrace, the story of Heeseung and Jake would be written, remembered, and loved—forever.
The End.