When Shadow came to, her senses were immediately assaulted by the weighty feel of chains. Grimy and corroded, the bindings dug viciously into her scaled flesh, carving rivulets of angry red where crimson-tinged blood wept into open air.

A gasp tore itself from her as the harsh realization hit her - she was in her dragon form. Curses and lashes, she mentally grumbled, her claws instinctively curling into her palm from frustration. The dwarves, although aware of her dual nature, were far less concerning than the goblins that now held her captive. If the Goblin King had discovered her identity, it was only a matter of time before Azog the Defiler got wind of it.

Defiantly, she shook her head, refusing to let despair cage her spirit but her respite was abruptly ended by a rough, gravelly voice. "Oh, the pretty little reptile is awake."

Claws bared and eyes flaring with unyielding determination, Shadow directed her gaze upwards. The looming figure of the Goblin King came into view, a whip clenched ominously in his meaty hands. Despite the dire circumstances, she held her undeterred glare, unafraid to confront her captor.

"I see you've still got your gall, princess," the Goblin King drawled, his voice oily as he extended a hand towards her. Yet, at her warning snarl, his advance halted.

Without warning, a muzzle was shoved over her head, prompting a stifled roar to rumble in her throat. The metallic taste of the contraption dug into her mouth, turning her roars of defiance into muffled growls.

As she grit her teeth against the discomfort, Shadow's desperate gaze flitted around, seeking the captive dwarves. She found them, all restrained and clenched in iron bonds. All except Bilbo, whose unexplained absence alternated between inciting worry and a glimmer of hope within her.

She couldn't tell whether she was hopeful of Bilbo's potential to orchestrate an escape or already resigning to a grim fate. The unsettling ambiguity of her feelings hung heavy in the stale goblin-infested air.

"You won't break her silence!" Balin retorted, his hot-tempered nature surfacing in the face of the torment. The Goblin King merely responded with low, cruel laughter.

"No, I don't intend to. It's clear as day who she has bound herself to," the Goblin King stated, his voice dripping with insidious satisfaction. "There's only one dwarf in all of Middle-earth that could garner loyalty from the Shadow, and that is you, Thorin Oakenshield."

His gaze veered towards Thorin, who, while visibly bristling with barely contained rage, remained largely reticent. The goblin's malicious taunt lingered in silence. "I'd advise you to speak up, unless you fancy listening to the sound of her spine shattering under pressure."

"What do you wish to know?" Thorin's query cut through the palpable tension, imposing and unyielding. Shadow's vibrant purple eyes flashed warnedly.

"Don't grant them the satisfaction, Thorin!" she managed to spit out through gritted teeth, pain spiking in her tone.

Her defiance was rewarded with a cruel lash of a whip against her wing. The harsh metal tore at her membrane, only inflicting superficial tears due to her resilient nature. Nonetheless, the punishment wasn't devoid of agony, each strike a searing line of fire across her wing. She grunted, her sounds of discomfort a testimonial to her resilience- a luminous beacon standing firm against torment.

"All I need to know is, why does Azog the Defiler want your head?" The Goblin King's inquiry was nonchalant as he lounged back in his grotesque throne, toying idly with his deadly war staff.

"It's puzzling, you know. You've never cared much for feuding with enemies, and yet, Azog is insistent. He wishes to display your severed head as a trophy, a gruesome exhibit on his silver platter," the grotesque figure mused.

His attention then swung towards Shadow. Caught in her futile struggle against her restraints, she strained against the tethering chains, a lioness bound and provoked. The Goblin King's beady eyes held a gleam of sadistic pleasure, amused by this game of torment.

"Then again, Master Shadow, you would be a coveted jewel in the hoard. He would enjoy keeping you in chains, not dead... hmm." The Goblin King's musings hung in the tense air as he contemplated their potential fate, seemingly losing himself in his dark reverie.

But Shadow was far beyond the threshold of patience. Closing her violet orbs, she delved into the ancient reserves of her race, invoking the latent Alpha power residing within her. The cavern, teeming with hissing goblins, was suddenly bathed in a vibrant purple glow.

An animalistic howl tore from the Goblin King, quickly echoed by his grotesque minions. The deafening cacophony was abruptly interrupted by a resonating BANG!

When the echoing din subsided and the dwarves could see clearly, they found Shadow standing there in all her imposing dragon form, her wings fanned out and smoking. Her eyes were narrow slits of indigo fury, the muzzle barely visible. The chains that bound her were reduced to smoldering remains at her sides, vanquished by the immense power radiating from her Alpha self. The ridges stretching from her forehead and down her back, and the unique markings on the underside of her wings all pulsated with the same vibrant purple as her furious gaze.

The Alpha had awakened.