Bound To The Dragon Prince

1. I Fall To My Death

***

The day I died was just like any other day.

Looking back on it now, perhaps I should have noticed some sort of sign that my life was coming to an end. Surely there must have been some sort of hint as to the true nature of what was coming.

But I was never a superstitious person. I didn't believe in such ominous signs, and I brushed it off as nothing more than mere coincidence.

The first sign was when I woke up and saw that it was nearly 8am. Somehow, I had slept through my alarm, and I only had twelve minutes to get ready for the day.

"For f**k's sake!" I groaned.

With a frantic burst of energy, I leaped out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom, barely managing to avoid tripping over the pile of clothes strewn across the floor.

The water in the shower was scalding hot, but I didn't have time to adjust it. I hastily lathered up with soap, my mind racing with all the things I needed to do before I could even think about heading to work. Just as I was about to rinse off, I slipped on the slick tile floor and narrowly avoided slamming my head against the wall. The experience jolted me awake, and it took a while before I could calm my nerves.

Looking back, that should have been my first sign that something was wrong. I had lived in this apartment for nearly two years, and I had never slipped in the shower before. I knew exactly where to step, and I knew the slippery parts I wasn't supposed to stand in.

So what went wrong today?

Brushing it off with a nervous laugh, I hurried to finish my shower and threw on some clothes. I was already five minutes late, and it would take another ten minutes before I could get to the store. Perhaps fortune would smile on me today and Mr. Ruthford, the store manager, would get stuck in traffic, or a not-so-lethal case of diarrhoea and he would arrive thirty minutes late. Knowing the kind of luck I had, he was more likely to arrive an hour early.

Dashing into the kitchen, I grabbed a granola bar and shoved it into my mouth, barely tasting it as I rushed to gather my things. My keys? Check. Wallet? Check. Phone? Check. With one last glance around my messy apartment, I dashed out the door, barely stopping to lock it behind me.

The streets of downtown New York were a chaotic mess, as usual. Dodging pedestrians and weaving through traffic, I hurried along the familiar route to the convenience store where I worked. The sidewalk was crowded with people bustling about their morning routines, the sounds of honking horns and shouting voices filling the air.

As I turned the corner onto Main Street, I caught sight of the neon sign of the convenience store up ahead, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw Mr. Ruthford jiggling his keys in the door. My heart lurched as I realised that he was just as late as I was, and I sprinted towards the store before he would realise the time.

Just a few more blocks to go. But as I stepped off the curb, a taxi came careening around the corner, narrowly missing me by inches. Heart pounding, I stumbled back onto the sidewalk, grateful for the near miss.

"Watch where you're going, missy!" the driver yelled, honking before he drove off.

"Maybe watch where you're driving, you i***t!" I yelled back, wishing I had a rock I could haul at his cab. When I looked up, however, Mr. Ruthford was flipping the sign on the door, and his eyes were fixed on me in a deathly glare. Even from afar, I could see the anger in his eyes, and every thought of getting revenge on the idiotic cab driver immediately vanished from my thoughts. I rushed forward immediately, bracing myself for the chastisement that I was about to experience.

I pushed through the glass door of the convenience store, the familiar chime signaling my arrival. Mr. Ruthford stood behind the counter, his arms crossed and a scowl etched deeply into his features.

"Late again, Amelia?" His voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp and unforgiving. "This is unacceptable."

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his disapproval settle heavily on my shoulders. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ruthford. It won't happen again," I muttered, my gaze fixed on the floor.

"It better not," he snapped, his tone dripping with disdain. "We have rules for a reason, you know. Punctuality is one of them."

I nodded, feeling a knot of guilt tightening in my stomach. Mr. Ruthford was notorious for his strict adherence to company policies, and I knew I was skating on thin ice with him.

He thrust a stack of instructions into my hands, the papers rustling loudly in the tense silence between us. "Here's what needs to be done today," he said curtly. "Stock the shelves, clean the aisles, and for heaven's sake, don't forget to restock the cooler. We can't afford to have anything out of place."

I nodded again, my throat dry as sandpaper. Mr. Ruthford's gaze bore into me, his eyes sharp and unforgiving. "And don't think I won't be keeping an eye on you," he added ominously before turning on his heel and storming off to his office, the door slamming shut behind him with a resounding thud.

As I stood there, watching him disappear down the narrow hallway, I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled over me like a heavy shroud. I knew I had to prove myself, to show Mr. Ruthford that I was capable and dependable. But with every passing minute, the weight of his expectations seemed to grow heavier, threatening to crush me beneath their relentless pressure. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and steeled myself for the long day ahead, determined to make things right, no matter what it took.

As I went about my duties, the weight of Mr. Ruthford's reprimand hung heavy on my mind. I moved mechanically, stocking shelves and cleaning aisles with a detached focus, barely interacting with my coworkers as they bustled about the store. My thoughts drifted back to Colin, who was still ignoring my calls after our last fight. Last I heard, he was up in Ontario working on a secret project. I wished he would talk to me, instead of ghosting me over such a trivial matter.

But that was the story of my life. No one stayed for longer than a few weeks. Colin was the one who actually made me think we could go the distance, but unfortunately that was all a dream as well.

Around noon, Mr. Ruthford called me over to man the counter. I nodded silently, suppressing the urge to argue or protest. I knew I couldn't afford to make any more mistakes if I wanted to keep my job.

As I stood behind the counter, scanning items and processing transactions with robotic efficiency, a hooded figure suddenly entered the store. My breath caught in my throat as I watched them approach, the hood obscuring their features and casting shadows across their face. I could have sworn that the air immediately turned foul, like the smell of rotten eggs which were wrapped in the nastiest gym shorts and deposited in the sewer for a few weeks.

"Can I help you?" I asked tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper as they approached. It was hard to tell whether the person was a man or a woman, as they kept their head low and tried to avoid making eye contact.

The hooded figure didn't respond immediately, their silence stretching out into an uncomfortable void. When they finally spoke, their voice was low and raspy, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I need ropes and a blade," they said, their words hanging in the air like a dark omen. It was still hard to determine whether it was a man or a woman, as their voice sounded more like nails on a chalkboard than someone actually talking.

I hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the cryptic request. "Sure, right this way," I replied, forcing a smile as I led them to the aisle where we kept the supplies.

"Are you a mountain climber perhaps?" I asked, trying to keep my voice friendly.

"Something like that," they replied gruffly.

"Will you be needing anything else?"

"No."

As I rang up their purchase, I tried to make small talk, but the hooded figure remained silent and aloof, their gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the confines of the store. The air seemed to crackle with tension, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.

"Here you go," I said, handing them the equipment. For a moment, they simply looked down at the bag with a frown. But then, in a low voice, they whispered, "Forgive me."

Before I could say anything else, the hooded figure turned and left the store, disappearing into the crowded streets. I watched them go, my heart pounding in my chest, feeling shaken and unsettled by the encounter. As the door swung shut behind them, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just brushed against something dark and sinister, something that lingered just beyond the edges of my understanding. I didn't realise I was trembling until Mr. Ruthford returned and told me I could leave for lunch.

I left the counter immediately and sought refuge on the rooftop of the convenience store, craving a moment of peace and solitude away from the hustle and bustle of the store. As I ascended the narrow staircase that led to the rooftop, I felt a sense of anticipation building within me, a longing for the brief respite that awaited me at the top. My encounter with the strange person had left me riled up, and I couldn't make sense of it. This was New York, where you couldn't walk ten steps without running into a weirdo or a lunatic. But for some reason, this person was even more sinister and terrifying than anyone I'd ever met.

Emerging onto the rooftop, I was greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of New York City. The skyline stretched out before me, a chaotic jumble of towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, bathed in the warm glow of the midday sun. The air was alive with the hum of traffic and the chatter of pedestrians, a constant cacophony that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the city itself.

Taking a deep breath, I settled onto a weathered bench and pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I dialed Colin's number once again. But once again, there was no answer, no comforting voice on the other end of the line to soothe my frayed nerves.

Sighing heavily, I slipped my phone back into my pocket and leaned back against the brick wall of the building, allowing myself to be enveloped by the sights and sounds of the city. For a brief moment, I forgot about the pressures of work, the strange encounter, and lost myself in the timeless beauty of New York City.

But as I sat there, gazing out at the sprawling skyline before me, a sense of unease began to creep over me. It started as a subtle prickling at the back of my neck, a nagging feeling that I was being watched, that unseen eyes were following my every move from the shadows.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the sensation, but it only seemed to grow stronger, more insistent. I scanned the rooftop nervously, my heart pounding in my chest, but there was no one there, no sign of anyone watching me.

Feeling increasingly unsettled, I stood up and prepared to return to work, eager to escape the oppressive weight of the silence that seemed to hang over the rooftop like a thick fog. But as I turned to leave, I felt a sudden, violent shove from behind, sending me sprawling forward onto the hard concrete.

Panic gripped my heart as the ground slipped out beneath me, and I tumbled to the earth in a dizzying rush. I don't remember screaming, or exactly who I saw when I whirled around before slipping off the edge of the building. All I remember was feeling absolutely terrified as a pair of grey eyes flashed before me, and the world spun out of control as I hurtled down the side of the building.

The last thing I remember was the brief glimpse of Mr. Ruthford wiping the counter before I slammed onto the concrete and the world went dark.

***