Chapter 2
Four Years Prior
I saw her again in my dreams, the child, now laughing.
It is a mockery, I fear, not a true vision of Fate.
Even if Sora were to return, I do not think it will be for long.
The world is in such a state of unrest, and Kronos is still watching closely.
Vane never asks about the dreams, but I think he knows.
After all, he was the only one I told. I abhor the false hope it gives him.
—Lady Anabeth, Royal Scribe’s Apprentice, D’anna
It was barely dawn when she crept out of the house.
She was sure one of her parents sensed her leaving, but they didn’t wake to ask where she was going.
She was grown at twenty and two, after all, and there was little danger here in the vast, secluded forest in Mise.
They didn’t cloister her, never had, though she could tell it wasn’t always easy, especially for her father.
When she was a child, he’d been constantly on edge.
He always tried to hide it, but there had been many occasions when a twig had snapped outside or something had rustled in the brush, and the silver of ether had brightened in his eyes, the air warming with the inferno of his magic.
She wasn’t entirely sure the reasons, but once, when she’d asked her mother why he was always so afraid, she had told her: “He tries not to show it, Nya. But neither of us are used to safety, not for long, and you are precious to him, to both of us. The thought of watching someone hurt you terrifies him.”
Her mother had said it as if he’d watched before, unable to do anything.
Her parents had always appeared young and never aged.
She knew they were not mortal—always had, since she first understood what that meant—but she had an inkling they were much older than they let on.
She knew they had been a part of the downfall of the tyrant god-king of Arcadia, Kronos, over half a century ago now.
Kronos, who, she learned in a record keeping text, had died in dragon fire, marked, damned, and destroyed by a new god who had gone into the blaze with him.
She had only ever heard of Nyx’s mark damning souls. Nyx, the goddess of night, who she was named for and whose midnight magic mingled in her veins alongside a rising inferno she had never understood.
She had long suspected who her parents were, who she was. It was precisely why she did not tell them when she started to remember pieces of her dreams two seasons ago. They feared Arcadia, and rightfully so, but she did not want them to worry. She didn’t truly think she was in danger.
Heles snorted as Nya skirted past her enormous, dark-scaled body, curled in the shadows of the long-limbed trees just behind the house.
You are going somewhere.
The voice was not Heles’, but Thessilnn’s, who was much more awake, staring at Nya knowingly with opaque silver eyes.
“Yes,” Nya whispered. “It’s fine. I’ll be safe. Just tell them…tell them I’ll be hiking until later.”
Thessilnn huffed. They will be angry if they find out we lied.
“Then don’t let them find out.”
Heles yawned, but her raspy voice filled Nya’s mind next. Will you at least reassure us you can actually use the pathway we so kindly opened for you, little one?
Nya sighed. I will signal if I need something.
Thessilnn huffed, her breath stirring the leaves before she lowered her head to the ground. She shut her eyes, but as Nya walked past her, she spoke once more.
Just try not to ferry the other dragon down this pathway once you get there. I am trying to sleep for once, and it will put an end to your sneaking before it even begins if your parents hear her.
Nya stopped short, looking back at Thessilnn, the moon to Heles’ night sky, but she was already feigning sleep, and Heles was actually snoring.
So, it was real. The dreams of the amber eyes…real. And the rest of it?
She sucked in a sharp breath. She would see once she arrived if the impossibility the dragon had claimed was true.
About three miles away, a creek bed that ran through much of the forest opened into a waterfall. At the bottom, there was a large outcropping of stone; a clearing big enough for even dragons as large as Thessilnn and Heles to land.
Nya reached the waterfall just as the sun crested the horizon, bathing the world in a red-orange glow. The only problem was, skirting around the falls and down the hill would take at least another half hour. She didn’t see anyone below, but she had promised sunrise. What if she missed the window?
She never remembered her dreams when she awoke, not before this.
Even so, these dreams felt more like an echo reaching her in the hazy moments before waking.
The dragon, who called herself Varax, never showed herself in the visions.
Perhaps she could not. Nya was fairly sure Varax was reaching her on some kind of mental pathway, similar to how her parents communicated with Thessilnn and Heles.
She had never heard of a pathway working at such a long distance, though, to be fair, she had no idea where Varax actually was.
Halfway through the last moon cycle, the dragon informed Nya they would meet.
It was not only two nights ago that she told her of the other rider.
No name was given, but Varax referred to the rider as a ‘he.’
It was ultimately stupid, but in her anxiety and flustered anticipation, Nya attempted to scale the side of the damp stone beside the falls. About halfway down, her foot slipped, and despite scrambling to grab a nearby notch in the stone, it was too slick, and she plummeted into the churning water.
She could swim just fine, but fear tore at her senses as the undertow beneath the falls caught her.
She tried to kick away from the violent pull of the water, but it was in vain, her lungs already seizing from the panic and lack of oxygen.
She was just about to reach down the mental pathway to her parents’ dragons when strong arms pulled her up, away from the undertow and out of the water.
Palms flat against the cool, coal-hued stone beside the falls, she gasped for air, coughing. Next to her, someone did the same before reaching towards her.
She reared back on instinct but froze when she saw his face.
He looked young, perhaps a few years older than her, with a golden-tan complexion, high, pronounced cheekbones, and a strong nose.
Dark hair that fell somewhere halfway down his back was plastered to his face, and he shoved it back with one of his hands.
But what really gave her pause were his eyes.
His brown irises were intersected with a shocking shade of amber-gold.
The fact that they were rimmed with silver was the first thing that made her reconsider his true age.
He was clearly not mortal. There was something else there too, a sort of haunted cast that reminded her of the way her parents sometimes looked at each other; a pain that never quite left and spoke of much endured.
But where their pain was always softened by love, this man’s was… cold. Empty.
Her gaze wandered behind him, searching, and the man said, “Varax is down creek…frolicking, I believe.”
I do not frolic. I am cooling off my scales.
The man’s mouth twitched, just barely. Sure.
Nya’s lips’ parted in disbelief. She could hear the dragon and the man in the same way she could hear Heles and Thessilnn. The dragon, Varax, had not lied or bluffed about coming here, nor about the other rider, if this was indeed him. She should probably clarify that, but—
“Are you alright?”
She took a slow, shuddering breath, trying to wrap her mind around what this meant. “I’m fine.”
“It’s just… The near drowning. It couldn’t have been pleasant.”
Her brow creased, and she studied him. Even just sitting next to her, waves of magic ebbed from him like a pulsing aura, energy shifting almost visibly in the air around him.
Whoever he was, he had come from some powerful bloodline.
Perhaps he was even a full godling, given the visible ether in his eyes and the noticeable breadth of his magic.
Presumably, he had come here with Varax, which meant…
Ask him the question, Nya, the dragon urged.
The man’s eyes widened incrementally. “So, it’s true,” he said quietly.
Nya worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re her rider?”
He gave a shallow nod. “And now it seems you are too.”
“You didn’t connect us on purpose, did you?” she asked, curling her hands into fists. Despite the warm morning, she was starting to shiver, water still dripping from her water-logged shirt and pants. “It’s just…you’re not mortal. You could have devious reasons.”
His lips curved. His upper lip was thinner than his bottom, just barely caught by a faint scar that ran the length of most of his face.
“Neither are you. Although, if you think gods can bridge minds, I’m going to venture out on a wild guess and say you don’t know much about Arcadia or the gods who live there. ”
She looked away, feeling a little stupid.
The dragon had been so insistent they finally meet after nearly a year of the dreams. Looking back on it now, Nya thought she might have always been aware of another presence lingering nearby, perhaps not even aware of its proximity.
When Varax had finally revealed it was her rider, that was when Nya’s curiosity had peaked.
She had been excited to come here today, hardly thinking about the dangers a meeting such as this might pose.
But this man…this god, or whoever he was, was right. She knew almost nothing about Arcadia beyond a few passages in books and her parents’ fear. Given how powerful they were, that alone probably should have warned her off, but perhaps the need to know who she truly was pulled stronger.
She had hoped this meeting today would begin to make the truth clearer.