Chapter 49
Reyla
The pendant warmed in my palm, and I still didn’t know what to wish for.
Lore watched me, his eyes full of unwavering trust. The other talismans lay on the table between us. They were so small, so deceptively ordinary appearing. A blue-stoned key, a gold pendant with a red gem, and this featherdorn no bigger than my thumb. One wrong move, one wrong word—
I could lose him.
I clutched the chain tighter, the wings of the featherdorn trembling against my skin like they, too, feared what might come next. The room held its breath. Dorion and Laphira didn’t speak. Even the fire quieted. I sensed we stood on the edge of something monumental.
My thoughts churned. I could ask the featherdorn how to fuse the talismans. I could ask where to go, what to do, how to fight. But none of those questions touched the root of this curse.
Lore kissed my temple, tightened his arm around my shoulders. “I’m here. Whatever happens next, I’m with you.” His words latched onto my mind and dragged me away from the spiral. My breath stilled. And—
Of course. Why hadn’t I realized this earlier? The answer had been there all along, hiding in plain sight. Not how to break the curse or where to go, but where everything truly began. I needed to understand the foundation before I could build anything on top of it.
This was the only question I could ask.
I lifted the pendant and the featherdorn’s wings beat in a furious rhythm. Did it know I was about to ask for a wish?
After closing my eyes and begging fates to make this go as it should, I opened my eyes and met those of the featherdorn. It wasn’t a living thing. At least, I didn’t think it was. But it must be sentient in some way. And I sensed it was listening. Waiting.
I laid the pendant on my palm, and the tiny bird perched on its claws, its wings tucking in close to its sides.
My swallow took a long time to go down, but I spoke into the quiet. “I wish I knew where to begin.”
The symbols weren't just clues, they were a sequence. The ripple meant water, the sea. The blade meant the ritual. The crown meant the final binding. I needed to begin at the water's edge, where everything started.
From the corner of my eye, a shadow darted across the mirror’s surface, gone before I could blink. My heart stuttered.
The fire hissed, a pop of smoke curling toward the hearth like a breath sucked in too fast.
Light spilled from the tiny creature as it lifted from my palm, hovering with fluttering wings. Across the room, the mirror above the fireplace rippled, a pond disturbed by unseen wind. We all stood.
Four courts, four elements, four directions. Dorion's grandmother was right about the old magic working in sets of four. Each piece represented something essential, and together they could chart a course.
An image shimmered into focus.
An enormous black dragon surrounded a darkened star. Beneath it, three symbols came into view: a ripple, a small blade I recognized well, and a winged crown. They glowed once before fading. The mirror smoothed, the images gone, and the pendant dropped back onto my palm, lifeless again.
I stared at the featherdorn, understanding flooding through me. “The pendant didn’t just show us random images. They read my deepest need and responded with the beginning I asked for.”
Lore nodded, urging me on.
“The dragon represents the curse's origin. The symbols are the steps: water to find the location, the blade for the ritual, the crown for the final binding.” My voice came out hoarse with awe.
“The pendant is ancient enough to remember when these connections mattered, when the three courts worked together instead of apart.”
I returned to sit on the sofa and while Lore joined me, the others retaking their own seats, I summoned my pen and paper with a flick of magic. “Quill, record, please.” The pen twitched to life and began writing everything I dictated, every word of what we saw.
Lore shifted closer to my side, studying the paper. “Three symbols. Each one must mean something vital.”
I tapped the page. “The ripple. The blade. The crown. We’ve seen two of those already.”
Dorion shifted forward, his eyes narrowed in thought.
“I think the ripple could be tied to the Halendor myth.
‘Where dragon tears fell into the sea, the tide remembers.’ There were other riddle verses my grandmother used to recite when I was small.
Something about…'Four as one shall light the way, when sea and sky meet ancient day.' I never understood what it meant.” His gaze sought mine. “But it’s all coming together.”
Finally.
“We’ll save him, Reyla,” Dorion said. “I promise.”
If only I had the confidence I found in our friend’s voice.
“I believe it refers to a location,” Lore said.
Dorion nodded. “I agree. Give me one moment.” He vanished, flitting… somewhere.
I stared at the talismans. The words from the tidal pool echoed in my mind. The heart waits where stone sings and scales remember.
Scales. I’d seen those in the pool. Dragon scales, to be precise. But where does the stone sing?
A breeze passed through the open windows. Outside, the wind stirred.
Dorion flitted back to the room, a map clutched in his hand.
“This,” he said, unrolling it on a nearby table.
We crowded around, studying it. “Is from my father’s private archives.
It shows a place called Starfall Break. Here—” He pointed to a jagged seam near a line of sea cliffs.
“It’s a place few dare to sail. The currents are strong.
But the stories say dragons once lived there. Died there too, I suppose.”
Lore leaned over the map, frowning. “Maybe they didn’t die, not if they were changed by…well, you know.”
The curse.
Dorion’s jaw tightened. “It wouldn’t surprise me. My great-uncle claimed your dragons were a threat to balance.”
“My grandmother felt that way too,” Laphira said.
“Well, it’s said my grandfather ordered them poisoned.” Dorion’s mouth twisted. “But what if that was a lie crafted to hide something older?”
“Prager,” Lore growled. “I sense her hand in this.”
So many well-crafted lies, all intending to ensure that every generation of Evergorne king died on their thirtieth birthday for eternity. How could she hold onto that much hatred for this long?
We returned to our seats, and I reached into my pocket and drew out the blade the Halendor librarian had given me. As soon as I placed it beside the talismans, it hummed.
The hum grew sharper, higher pitched. For a moment, the tip of the blade turned toward me as if drawn or in warning. It spun again, settling with the tip pointed away from me.
Unease crawled beneath my skin.
Lore’s hand found mine.
“In the labyrinth,” he said to the others.
“Reyla was mortally wounded. Dying. I made a promise. I shouted that I would give anything to save her. A dragon appeared, the same one we saw the other night. The same one that saved me from one of the traps inside the labyrinth. It said it would heal Reyla if I agreed to meet with it when it said it was time.”
The hum deepened, the blade responding to his words.
I squeezed his hand. “It wants you to perform the blood ritual, doesn't it?”
“I believe so.”
Laphira dropped to her knees beside the low table and gently touched each of the objects lying there, ending with the small knife.
“An image of that very blade is etched into a ceremonial chamber wall at Irridain. If I remember correctly, my tutor told me it was once used to seal court pacts. Blood-forged, not in war, but in unity, she said. When I asked, she was unable to elaborate.”
“Or unwilling to answer,” I muttered softly. A chill trickled down my spine despite the warmth in the room. I looked toward the quill. “Please note that the blade responds to the talismans. Known to Irridain. Bound by blood. Used to seal court pacts.”
Three courts. Three symbols. Three fragments of a bond lost for ages.
Not lost forever, not if we could reach Starfall Break in time.
Laphira glanced over her shoulder at the mirror above the hearth. “The winged crown… I’ve seen it in the oldest royal seals of Irridain. It was part of something called the Pact of Ash and Wing.”
Dorion frowned. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“It was said to be a rite of peace,” she said, her brow tightening. “A vow sworn between the three courts when dragons still guarded them all. The last ceremony supposedly happened ‘where the sea cannot touch.’ Their binding was meant to preserve harmony within the courts.”
“Then Aricor tried to bend a wizard’s will and heart.” I tapped the hilt of the tiny knife, thinking. “Lore, you said you saw images of men from the three courts using the blade in a ceremony.”
“They cut themselves, mixed their blood.”
“The pact?” Laphira asked, her eyes bright with excitement. She climbed to her feet and sunk onto the opposite sofa beside Dorion, leaning into his side. “The three courts were once friends before…” Her gaze flicked to Lore. “All this time we could’ve been aiding each other instead of warring.”
Aricor ruined more than the lives of his family. He destroyed whatever bond the three friends had. Prager did, that is. Aricor’s actions were heinous, but to force this curse on everyone living in this land forever? That was even worse.
“‘Where the sea cannot touch,’” I said. “That sounds like a mountain. A place the sea can’t reach.”
Lore grunted. “Or a place that rises above the sea but is still within it.”
Dorion’s eyes sparked. “An island. Or a cavern. Something hidden by the tides.”
“Where is Starfall Break?” I asked.
Lore stood, tugging me up from the sofa. “Captain Christoff might know, but we could also go to the library and ask Valera.”
We flitted there, arriving in the hall outside and stepping into the vast space. Valera rose from her chair behind her desk and hurried over to us, bowing to both me and Lore while sending curious looks Dorion and Valera’s way.
We explained what we were looking for.