Chapter 35 Claeg
“Claeg.” The name beckoned me awake. I had flown into the oasis before resting beneath a palm, exhausted by all the thoughts and feelings tormenting me. I stretched my wings and rumbled sleepily before letting the draconis slip beneath my skin.
“Anastasius,” I hummed, a smile gracing my lips despite myself. My vision was hazy with the remnants of sleep, but pain cleared my head quickly. It wasn’t the prince before me but my father. I scrambled to a sitting position, ignoring the grit of sand.
“Claeg,” Ercan whispered my name again as if testing it out on his tongue. As if he also couldn't believe what he was seeing. I squinted at him. Was he here to kill me? I had seen him with Anastasius, but that didn’t mean he had forgiven me. His dark eyes flicked down to the broken Circles on my palms. Ercan drew a quick breath in between his teeth at the sight of my weakness, making me fight the urge to hide them. “Claeg,” he uttered, tears forming in his eyes. I hated him for them. “Why are you here, son?” he growled. I forced myself not to wince, instead pushing myself to stand and fold my arms over my chest. My heart slammed against the vessels binding it in place over and over. My father knew. He’d seen my broken Circles, and he didn’t believe them. Fuck.
“My Circles are broken.” I shrugged as if it didn’t mean everything.
“How?” he pressed, his eyes piercing. I could feel him trying to dissect me. I remained quiet, refusing to answer him.
“Why are you here, Ercan?” I spat, ignoring his question. He stared at me for a moment.
“I want to show you something, son.”
At this, I raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t help my curiosity. I had expected outright rejection from him, not . . . whatever this was. “I have no interest in going anywhere with you.”
He grimaced. “Please, Claeg. For Anastasius,” he begged.
I glared at him. Did he know of my feelings for the prince? I studied him for a moment, taking in his short silver hair, eyes which matched mine, and the brands on his hands, which had long ago healed. He looked well, his cheeks full and eyes bright.
I sighed and gave my father an expectant look, gesturing for him to lead the way. He shifted, revealing a broken draconis. He had been the twin of my draconis, pale white with smooth scales. But now, his wings were misshapen. The peaks were no longer delicate arches but bent at odd angles. Broken. The cartilage was mangled, but there were no bruises or open wounds. I sucked in a breath. He let the wind take him high into the sky. I watched him for a moment. He flapped his wings faster than should be necessary. I stared, balking at the creature which shouldn’t be able to fly yet he was. The sheer strength it must take to keep himself aloft was astounding. It was almost admirable. When he looked back at me, a deep sound rumbled from his chest, beckoning me to follow. Unsheathing my draconis, I couldn’t help the contented grumble that tumbled from my jaws.
We flew away from the oasis towards the open sand dunes, but nothing about the flight was relaxing. Ercan stuttered, his wings not nearly as effective as mine. He dipped toward the ground on a particularly horrendous instance of his wings giving out on him. It was painful to watch. He fell helplessly toward the brutal and unforgiving sand and nearly crashed into it before steadying himself. He slowly regained an awkward rhythm, gradually ascending to my altitude.
We soared side by side for a while, Ercan needing to beat his wings thrice for every time I did. I wasn’t sure what to think. The Ruptor was oddly silent. The mesas loomed in the distance behind us, along with the oasis. In front of us, there were only rippling sand dunes among wind-polished rocks.
Luckily, Ercan soon aimed for the ground, and this time his descent appeared intentional. I followed him down through the clouds but let him land first. It wasn’t a pretty sight. He slammed into the ground, disrupting the sand and sending it shooting into the air in a mighty wave. His body skidded across the landscape until he thunked into a large rock, breaking his momentum. The resounding sound made me cringe as I landed easily within the outcropping of rocks. They were more dense here, curved and smooth, all of them white and reflecting the overcast sun. There was a faintly familiar smell on the wind, like home, even though we were days away from the edge of the Circulus territory. Ercan shuddered. So weak. I meandered over. His weakness didn’t matter to me anymore. His Circles were broken. He was nothing to me. He groaned before shifting, revealing the pale, moon-like stone. Except it wasn’t a rock, but a concave hip bone. I blinked, looking around. All of the rocks were bones. Draconis bones.
I shifted, my wings retracting into the ether, my scales slipping beneath my skin. My claws dissipated, becoming blood coated human nails. It happened in an instant, revealing my scarred, weaker form. At least I was no longer bleeding, Anastasius’ potion managing to halt that. I pushed the thought aside, leveling a glare at my father.
“Why have you taken me here?” I growled, a hint of my draconis remaining in my tone. Gone was the criticism and admiration. I needed answers. Now.
“Anastasius wanted—” I didn’t even let him finish the thought.
“Bullshit. Tell me why you brought me here. What do you want?" I folded my arms over my chest. Ercan swallowed. He kicked at the sand, sending a plume of it against the nearest bone. I thought he wouldn’t answer me for a moment until he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“You needed to see that Anastasius isn’t the enemy, Claeg.”
I frowned and crossed my arms. “So, you brought me to a mass De Vita graveyard? Forgive me, but seeing this isn’t portraying your point, Ercan.” My tone came out harsh. I couldn’t help it. Seeing my father stirred things within me that I had long thought were buried with my mother. I wanted to hate him, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not fully. Not anymore. He had fought to protect. Fuck, I shouldn’t be feeling like this—merciful.
“These aren’t De Vita draconis, Claeg,” he whispered, the implications making me sick. Circulus. My heart pounded, my fists pumping in time with it. I whirled back toward Ercan. “Before you say anything, let me explain.” I growled at his demand, my hands searching for a dagger that wasn’t there. I didn’t need one. My body was a weapon. I stalked towards him.
“Damnit, Claeg! You owe me this!” Ercan cried as I slammed his shoulder into the bone. He hissed in pain. I bared my teeth at him.
“I owe you nothing. You got what you deserved,” I snarled and shoved him into the bone again.
“These draconis weren’t Saved,” Ercan rasped. “Anastasius hates the tradition. We complete the Circles whenever we can, or send them east if they desire to brave the witch’s old world.” I blinked at him in surprise. Anastasius acted like a Ruptor? I thought about our initial meeting. Had he arrived to complete the Circle of the draconis rather than Save her? The thought rattled me. I swallowed, a lump building in my throat.
“He admires you, Claeg. He wants balance. Together, you can create the balance between the clans.” His words were hardly more than a whisper, but I heard them loud and clear. I snorted. We had never tried for peace before, and I wasn’t against the idea, but how could two opposites find neutral territory? Peace was a fantasy. The Circulus respected death in a way De Vita never would. Life and death may be connected, but they didn’t mix.
“I’m not here for peace,” I admitted quietly, shame burning in my core. With that, I shifted and left my father behind.