Silver Claws, Crimson Tears (Wings of Embernia #2)

Chapter 1

Vaylen

Pain is a confession from Rhealyn’s lips.

She’s not the person she claimed to be. She lied to me.

My world tilts on its axis.

Oh, Heratrix! I fell for a creature that shouldn’t exist.

A Weaver.

Rhealyn is on her knees, her face tear-streaked, her features disfigured in pain. She’s stricken by the revelation that she killed her pregnant mother. But how could she not have known?

Because she was only a child, a child who was torn asunder by a man who should never have been allowed to get near her and touch her.

Much less perform her Cleansing.

She must have blocked the horrible events from her mind. She’s not to blame. And yet… she is. At least for some of it. She knew what she was and despite everything, she enlisted in the Aerie Academy and fought to become a Skyrider, despite knowing it is forbidden.

Then she killed Cindergrasp, told me she was innocent, and I… I believed her because I was blind with lust and with…

I open my mouth unsure of the words that will come out, unsure of what to say to her.

Suddenly, the mountain heaves, and the ground trembles.

An earthquake? Not in this region. I fall to my knees.

Fissures spread over the ground like spindly fingers, rushing in our direction.

The other Skyriders shout in a panic, stumbling like drunkards fighting for balance.

Then there’s a roar as the mountain splits in two, a giant egg cracking open.

Wyrm’s rot! What’s happening?

Rocks tumble from the top of the peak as we stare in awe and utter confusion at the chaos.

Then it stops.

The eerie silence feels like the world holding its breath. Dust hangs suspended in air that’s now perfectly still. My ears ring with emptiness where moments ago there was only destruction.

Rhealyn rises slowly, her movements unsteady. Blood trickles from a cut above her eye, leaving a red trail down her cheek.

Crimson tears.

Even now, with everything crumbling—both the mountain and whatever lay between us—I fight the urge to wipe it away.

My training takes over. I scan the surroundings, assessing the damage. Half our tents collapsed under falling rock. Equipment lies scattered like forgotten toys. Two of my Skyriders appear to have minor injuries, though they still seem mobile. Everyone huddles close to the ground, eyes wide.

“What the fuck is that?” Silas Pyrewing says under his breath.

Following his line of sight, I glance up to find the most unlikely creature spilling from the mountain.

A man.

As if birthed from the bowels of the earth, he surveys us, obscured by a cloud of dust left in the wake of the earthquake.

A giant fissure gapes behind him, light emanating from its depth, casting Rhealyn in an eerie glow that makes the hollows of her cheeks appear sunken and her wavering eyes too large.

The light pulsates and grows in intensity, blinding.

I raise a hand to block the glare. Power rolls off the man like from storm clouds before lightning strikes. My skin prickles with a warning.

The stranger’s gaze locks onto Rhealyn like a predator finding prey.

I step forward instinctively, even though something in my blood warns against it.

He lifts a hand toward her, fingers splayed.

The light from the fissure intensifies, washing the mountainside in an unnatural brilliance that burns my eyes, but I refuse to look away.

“She’s mine,” he proclaims, his voice echoing across the ravaged landscape, resonating inside my chest like thunder. “A new era dawns.”

My fingers instinctively gather wind. Whatever claim this mountain-born creature thinks he has on Rhealyn, he’ll face my power before I let him have her.

The stranger sweeps an arm outward in a violent arc. Without warning, a powerful gust erupts from the crack in the mountain, carrying with it the stench of damp earth and something else. Something wrong. The whirlwind bursts forth with unnerving speed, hurling debris across our camp like weapons.

Everyone drops to the ground. I crouch and shield Rhealyn and me with Wind Wall. Yet, through the barrier, the maelstrom catches her, lifting her slender form off her feet as if she weighs nothing.

“Rhealyn!” I lunge forward, fingers stretching toward her outstretched hand. Our fingertips brush, a moment of contact too brief to be real. Too brief to pull her to me.

I summon more wind to my command, bending currents to counter the stranger’s power. The elements strain against each other, but his force proves far greater than mine. His control is unlike anything I’ve witnessed in any wind elemental.

Rhealyn struggles against the pull too, her body contorting as she fights the inevitable. Her hazel eyes lock with mine, terror and something else—resignation?—reflected in them.

Then she’s gone, pulled into the mountain’s depths as the stranger retreats, taking her.

The fissure seals behind them, rock melding seamlessly.

Seconds tick like lifetimes. My mind refuses to accept what my eyes are witnessing: the mountain whole again, as if it never split open, as if it didn’t just swallow Rhealyn whole.

She’s gone. Gone!

The realization crashes through me like an avalanche, burying every other thought beneath its weight. A vast hollow emptiness spreads through my chest.

“What the fuck?!” Dakar approaches, batting at the lingering dust in the air. “Where they go?”

I barely hear him as I fall to my knees.

My fingers dig into the freshly sealed cracks where many fissures were moments ago.

Solid. Unyielding. Not even the faintest trace remains to betray what happened.

The mountainside has perfectly healed itself, as if the stone mass were living flesh knitting back together after a wound.

In my desperate clawing, something glints against the dark stone—Rhea’s onyx ring.

The silver with its intricate swirling patterns catches what little light remains in the day.

I clutch it tightly in my palm, the metal warming against my skin as I silently promise to return it to her.

This ring will find its way back to its rightful owner as soon as I find her.

Desperate, I surge to my feet, fury igniting inside me like dragon fire.

“Cliffbecker! Stonefist! With me, now!” My voice carries across the devastated camp, leaving no room for question or hesitation.

My boots hammer the uneven ground as I sprint toward the mountain face. The spot where Rhealyn vanished mocks me with its seamless facade.

“Vaylen.” Dakar’s voice rings out behind me. “What in Heratrix’s name are you doin’?”

I ignore him, focused only on the task, on getting her back. The image of her fingers brushing mine—so close yet not enough—fuels my desperation.

When I reach the cliff, I press my palms against the stone. There’s no evidence of the break. Nothing except the remnants of arcane power lingering in the air like the scent after rain.

Cliffbecker and Caspian arrive at my side, breathing hard.

“Sir?” Cliffbecker looks at me, confusion written across his weathered face. He’s the oldest, most experienced Skydune in the Sky Order.

“Dig,” I command the Skydunes. “We have to get through. Now.”

Caspian Stonefist, one of the new recruits, looks at Cliffbecker, waiting for his lead.

Cliffbecker shakes his head. “The mountain sealed itself, and it looks like—”

“I don’t give a damn what it looks like,” I growl, striking the hard surface with my fist. Pain shoots up my arm, but I welcome it.

“Rhealyn is in there. We’re getting her out.

” They stare at me. “Are you both deaf? I said dig!” My voice shatters the stunned silence, carrying the weight of command that’s served me well as High Prime.

Cliffbecker and Stonefist exchange an uncertain glance. Their hesitation fans the flames of my desperation.

“Now!” I roar, the word exploding from my chest with such force that a gust of wind ripples outward, stirring the debris at our feet.

Finally, they snap into action. The Skydunes raise their hands toward the rock face, fingers spread wide, deep lines of concentration etching their foreheads. The ground rumbles in response to their summoning, the very earth recognizing its masters’ call.

Stonefist grunts with effort as chunks of stone pull away from the mountain, hovering before him in a suspended cloud of earth and rock.

Sweat beads on his brow despite the night’s chill.

Beside him, Cliffbecker works with the practiced precision of a man who has spent decades bending stone to his will, carving a deeper hollow into the mountainside.

I channel my power into controlled Wind Blasts, sweeping the loosened debris away from our makeshift tunnel. The fine dust that threatens to choke us disperses under my command, yet my lungs still burn with each breath.

“Faster,” I urge, though I know they work at their limits.

“The mountain fights back, High Prime,” Cliffbecker says. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

In response, the ground groans under our assault like a wounded beast.

“I don’t give a fuck if it resists,” I snarl. “She’s in there.”

With each section we clear, the mountain seems to grow more solid, more defiant. But I won’t yield. I have to find her. She’s one of us.

She’s mine. No one else’s.

“Deeper,” I command, sending another powerful gust to blow away debris. “We don’t stop until we find her.”

Logical pathways form. We have to find the tunnel the man took. There has to be one.

Rhealyn, I’m coming. I won’t abandon you. Not to a mountain. Not to a stranger from its depths. Not to anything in this world or beyond it.

The thud, thud of wings comes from above, then a deafening roar full of pain and desperation splits the sky.

Zephyros is here.