Chapter 42 The Dawning Sun
THE DAWNING SUN
GRAVES
Graves’s back ached from strain as his wings beat without ceasing, carrying him over the archipelago of his once-home.
The night had given way to a golden dawn, the horizon a mix of purple and pink, and everything soft and sweet. It reminded him of Luella.
He flew harder, eyes scouring below. The waking islands.
Fallen rose with the sun, as it barely peeked through the thick cover of clouds above.
He saw nothing of note. No suspicious movements.
He swooped to the left, wings folding close to his back as he dove to the sea, then snapping out at the last moment to lift him mere feet above the water.
Sea spray misted his skin and clothes. The water arced up in a streamlined trail as he cut close to the surface, flying swiftly away from the collection of islands.
Have you found her? Vale’s voice, underlined with a hiss, came into his mind.
Graves held back his retort. But he so badly wanted to curse the dragon shifter for the ill-timed inquiry. No, he merely replied, but could not quite help himself as he added, If I do, I’ll let you know immediately.
More godsdamned time passed. His body was one large ache from the strain on his wings. He was unused to flying for so long and so swiftly. He wished he could savor the pull of his muscles and wind in his face without the intense fear of where Luella was…
Graves’s wings carried him high, to the peak of one of the mountains that surrounded the Fallen Isles. He crouched upon the mountain’s peak, palms flat against the ground. This high up, the grass that dotted the hills below gave way to sharp stone; it cut into his flesh.
Graves swallowed as he stared out at the distance, shrouded by fog.
She’s not here. The damning words echoed through their link.
Vale was the only one to reply. Graves assumed that was because the others were too busy—he hoped, at the very least…
What do you mean? Vale hissed.
I mean what I fucking said, Vale. I’ve searched the whole of the Isles. She isn’t here. The rocks dug into Graves’s palms; blood beaded.
A great hissing sound filtered through the chasm of their shared thoughts, echoed and serpentine. She is not… dead. The hissing grew louder. We would have felt it.
That was the only thing keeping them going—the faint emotions that filtered through, rare and sparse, but there.
She is beyond the Isles, Vale finally said.
I believe so, too. Graves’s fingers dug into the bloodied pebbles under him, lifting them in his fist and letting them pool between his fingers.
Go, his King demanded. Find her.
Graves shot off from the rocks, sending pebbles scattering down the mountainside as his wings snapped out. He flew straight over the circumference of the mountains. The open sea greeted him, sparkling and blue in the dawning sun.
I will.