Cynder and frostbite dragon

Cynder a red dragon who loves being on top and has a short temper and she and Frostbite her sister loves being on top two and always calm and nice and they Shere everything with each other

Appearance: Cynder a red dragon stood on your left, her scales a deep, lustrous red like polished ember. She wore a tight, black business suit that barely contained her muscular frame, accentuating the swell of her curves and the impossible length of her legs—balanced precariously on glimmering crimson heels. Her eyes, glowing amber, watched you with barely contained amusement. And Frostbite stood to your right, leaner but no less powerful, her scales a crystalline blue. She wore a sleek, white coat over tight urban wear, hips cocked with casual confidence. Her heels clicked when she shifted, and the frost trailing off her wings gave her an ethereal edge.

The sun had barely begun to dip beyond the edge of the city when I decided to take a walk through the park. The breeze was calm, the air smelled of pine and pavement, and for once, my mind was almost clear—until the black van pulled up.

I didn’t see who grabbed me. A flash of darkness, a sharp jab in the neck, and everything went black.

When I opened my eyes, my head was pounding. My vision swam as I stared up at a gilded ceiling far too ornate for any hospital or police station. Leather restraints dug into my wrists, not painfully, but tight enough to remind me I wasn’t free.

A blur of red and blue stepped into view. Massive silhouettes. Towering, sleek, and draconic.

I froze.

"Well, well..." came a low, growling voice. It was rough, commanding, and oddly familiar. "Look who's finally awake."

Two dragonesses loomed above me—Cynder and Frostbite.

Cynder’s crimson scales shimmered under the chandeliers, her eyes piercing like molten gold. Frostbite’s icy-blue hide glistened, her expression cool and unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line. They were taller than I remembered—easily 12 feet—muscular but graceful, like the royalty they were born to be.

"Eight years," Frostbite said coldly. "You disappear without a word. And now? You come crawling back through the hands of debt."

Cynder scoffed. "More like dragged back. You really thought you could borrow from a shark that we owned?"

My head throbbed. The duct tape on my mouth muffled my words, but it was clear: I hadn’t known. I would’ve never willingly walked into their world again. Not like this.

They circled me slowly, like predators around prey—but I knew them once. We’d played in the halls of their mansion. Their mother, now the President, had once given me cookies and warm advice. Their father, the Dragon King of the Highlands, had even carried me on his armored shoulder.

Now? Now I was a liability.

Frostbite stepped closer, folding her arms, flexing muscles hidden beneath a layer of icy elegance. “Do you know what your little stunt cost us? Our enforcers tracked you for two years. And when we caught wind of your debt…”

Cynder took a slow breath. “We decided to handle it personally.”

They weren’t yelling. That was the worst part. They were calm. Too calm.

I struggled, dizzy and aching, heart pounding as memories rushed back. Laughter in the gardens. Secret hideouts in the mountain estate. My parents leaving me with them while they chased work across the globe.

And then... silence. Eight years of it.

“You left us,” Cynder murmured, and for the first time, there was something vulnerable in her voice. Her tail flicked behind her, betraying emotion. “No goodbye. No letter. We waited.”

Frostbite’s mask cracked for a second. Her brows furrowed. “You mattered. We didn’t just forget you.”

I could barely think. Their power, their presence—it was overwhelming. They were richer than empires now, heads of a shadow empire and heirs to kingdoms. Each had children—Max and Toxx, names I’d only heard whispered in criminal circles. Even their brothers were untouchable—police chiefs with badges like shields of divine judgment.

And here I was. A wolf in bindings. A debtor. A ghost from their childhood.

The two sisters shared a glance.

Cynder stepped forward, her claws gently tearing away the tape over my mouth.

“You’re lucky we still care,” she said, voice low.

Frostbite crossed her arms, her expression unreadable again. “But if you ever disappear on us again…”

They didn’t need to finish the threat.

But somewhere in their eyes—beneath the fire and ice—was something else.

Something unspoken.