Chapter 8 Rhea
Rhea
Iwake to a world spinning too fast. Sky bleeds into earth, clouds race overhead like they’re fleeing something terrible. Everything hurts. My skin feels like it’s been scraped raw and left to bake under this merciless sun.
Where am I?
I try to lift my head and pain shoots through my skull, sharp enough to make me cry out. The sound that comes from my lips is unfamiliar, cracked and dry like old parchment. How long have I been here?
“Water,” I croak, though no one’s there to hear. My tongue feels swollen, too large for my mouth.
Memories flicker like dying embers. Vaylen’s face.
His fingers reaching for mine. A man—was there a man?
—emerging from stone. The mountain opening like a mouth to swallow me whole.
What in all the hells? Maybe I’m dead, trapped in Weaver Hell—the worst of all seven—where nightmares claw through your mind for eternity.
I roll onto my side, vision swimming. The ground beneath me is hard-packed dirt, covered in brittle grass. In the distance, I see something that might be trees or might be shadows. Everything’s blurry, warped by heat and thirst.
“Zephyros,” I whisper, reaching out with my mind. The bond feels strange, stretched thin but vibrating with intensity. Is he coming? Can he feel me?
I push against the ground, willing my limbs to cooperate. For a moment, I’m upright, swaying like a sapling in a strong wind, before my knees buckle and I crash back down. The impact sends fresh waves of agony through my body.
“Wyrm’s rot,” I spit, tasting blood on my lips. “Get up, Rhea. Get. Up.”
But my body refuses to obey. Time slips and slides around me. The sun crawls across the sky, then plummets toward the horizon. How many hours have passed? Has it been days? I can’t tell anymore.
“Help,” I mumble, though I’ve never been good at asking for it. Except pride doesn’t matter much when you’re dying of thirst in the middle of nowhere.
I close my eyes against the fading light, feeling consciousness slip away again. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I see Vaylen’s face once more. The hurt in his eyes when I told him everything.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to the empty air. “I should have told you sooner.”
This must be my punishment. Life is finally catching up to me for what I’ve done, what I am. A murderess. A Weaver. A liar. Dual powers in one body—an abomination by Embernia laws.
A harsh cawing cuts through my delirium. I force my eyelids open, vision swimming. Black shapes circle overhead, silhouetted against the brutal sky. Crows. Death’s messengers. They know when something’s about to become a feast.
“Not yet, you bastards,” I rasp, but my threat lacks conviction. My lips crack further with each syllable.
The birds dip lower, their wings beating a death drum. One lands nearby, its beady eye fixed on me with terrible patience. It knows I’m not going anywhere.
I laugh, the sound scraping my throat raw.
So much for my grand ambitions. So much for becoming the greatest Skysinger the kingdom had ever seen.
I didn’t even make it a full month. All that time at the Academy, all that training, all those years hiding what I am, lying to everyone, and here I’ll die—food for crows in this wasteland.
Another bird lands, bolder now, hopping closer. I try to wave it away, but my arm feels impossibly heavy. The crows multiply in my blurred vision—three, five, a dozen. Their caws sound like laughter.
“You’ll have to wait your turn,” I growl at them, summoning what little defiance I have left. I won’t go quietly even as they peck at my eyes.
The sun slides further down, shadows lengthening across my broken body. Night will come soon. Will I survive until morning? Do I even want to?
“Damn you all,” I whisper to the empty sky, to the Goddess, to Vaylen, to everyone who dares listen. “I’m not finished yet.”
But the darkness at the edges of my vision suggests otherwise.
The largest crow spreads its wings, growing impossibly large against the darkening sky. My vision swims, reality bending as fever grips me tighter. The bird’s feathers melt away like wax, revealing leathery skin stretched taut over bone. Its beak elongates, teeth glinting in the fading light.
I’m hallucinating. I must be.
The wing beats sound like thunder now, each one reverberating through the parched earth beneath me. The other crows scatter, fleeing before this new apparition. Wind whips my face, stirring dust that stings my cheeks.
Not a crow.
Silver flashes in the dying sunlight. A familiar shape, massive and powerful, blocks out the sky.
—Rhealyn!
His deep voice crashes through my mind. The most beautiful I’ve ever heard. I sob, the sound tearing from my throat.
“Zephyros?” I whisper, afraid he’ll vanish if I speak too loudly. “Is it really you?”
The ground trembles as he lands, his massive form hitting the earth with enough force to send vibrations through my broken body. His hide glimmers like water, water I desperately need. Claws tear furrows in the dirt as he rushes toward me.
—Rhealyn, he rumbles in my mind, his voice thick with relief and worry. What have they done to you? His scar-marked face lowers until I feel his hot breath against my skin.
—Took you long enough. I reach a trembling hand toward his snout. My fingers brush against hard scales, and I know he’s real. Not a fever dream.
—Thought you’d forgotten me, I say.
—Never, he growls, gentle despite his ferocity. You’re thirsty. So thirsty.
He must sense it through our bond. —Can you take me to water?
—I can still lift a bone rack like you with ease, Zephyros scoffs, but the concern in his voice is unmistakable.
A cool breeze suddenly swirls around me. My body lifts from the ground, weightless as a feather. The familiar touch of Zephyros’s elemental power cradles me like clouds. My hair whips around my face as I float upward, rising until I’m level with his massive head.
Wind Tethers snake around my waist and legs, holding me securely.
—Worry not. You’re safe now.
The world drops away as Zephyros launches skyward. My stomach lurches, but the motion lasts only seconds before we descend again, touching down on softer ground.
The wind cradles me once more, lifting me from his head and depositing me at the edge of water so clear it looks like liquid crystal. I blink, disoriented by the sudden change. A lake spreads before me, its surface glinting in the fading light.
I blink. It’s the lake where Vaylen and the Matron plummeted.
—Where is—
—Drink, Zephyros commands. Questions later.
I drag myself the last few feet on trembling limbs, collapsing at the water’s edge. My reflection stares back, a stranger with hollow cheeks and wild eyes.
Wyrm’s rot! I look like a skeleton. I must really be hallucinating now.
I plunge my hands into the cool water and bring them to my cracked lips.
The first sip is agony against my parched throat. The second is pure bliss. I drink greedily, water spilling down my chin and neck, soaking the filthy remains of my clothing.
I finally stop drinking when my stomach threatens to revolt, sinking back onto my haunches with a gasp. Life flows back into my limbs with each breath, though my body still feels like I’ve been trampled by a group of angry dragons.
—Any food? I ask. I feel like I haven’t eaten in... I pause, realizing I have no idea how long it’s been.
Zephyros shifts his massive bulk, scales glinting in the fading light. His tail twitches, a gesture I recognize as discomfort.
—I... did not think of food, he admits, his tone tinged with embarrassment. I flew here as quickly as my wings could carry me once I sensed you again.
I frown.
—Flew from where? I push myself up straighter, confusion cutting through my exhaustion. And where’s everybody? Vaylen and the others must have rations I could eat.
Zephyros goes still.
—Little one, there is no one else. I flew from Sky’s Edge. Don’t you remember what happened?
—Sky’s Edge? I shake my head, trying to clear it. But we’re in Hearthdale, the mountains. This is the lake, and we…
—That was a year ago, Rhealyn, he says gently.
The words hit me like a hammer blow. I stare at him, waiting for the joke, but Zephyros rarely jokes and not about things that matter.
—A… a year? My voice cracks. That’s impossible. It was just yesterday that… the mountain… I can’t finish.
—It was not yesterday, Zephyros says. You disappeared. For an entire year, you were gone.
I look down at my hands, noticing for the first time how thin they are, how the skin stretches too tight across my knuckles. My clothes hang off me like they belong to someone else.
—But I don’t… remember anything, I say.
—Let me look, Zephyros says, oddly tender for such a massive creature. I can search your memories.
I sense his power brushing against my consciousness.
—Wait! No poking around in my head again, I say, remembering what he uncovered the last time.
—I want to help you remember, he corrects.
I shake my head.
—A whole year of your life shouldn’t just be... gone, he insists with concern.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the lingering warmth of the day.
—Last time… what you uncovered… I can’t.
—If I find something unsettling, I won’t tell you unless you wish it.
—That’s supposed to make me feel better? I laugh, the sound brittle even to my own ears. Fine. Do it. Not like I have much dignity left anyway.
I close my eyes and lower my mental barriers, feeling the cool rush of his consciousness flowing into mine. He enters my mind fully now, his presence like tendrils reaching through my thoughts.
Memories flash like fragments of colored glass: my training at Sky’s Edge, the day I bonded with him, my hand on Vaylen’s chest, his lips... I push that one away quickly. Then Zephyros reaches for where the past year should be. I turn away, afraid of what he may find.
—Strange, he mutters.
—What?
I feel Zephyros’s confusion as he searches more thoroughly, probing gently at the edges of my mind. When he withdraws, the puzzlement radiating from him is so strong it’s almost palpable. —There’s… nothing. I think.
—You think?
—It’s muddled.
—What does that mean?
—I do not know, he says, his tone uncharacteristically quiet. There seem to be no memories locked away or hidden behind barriers like before. It’s as if that time never existed for you.
I open my eyes, staring at him in disbelief. —How is that possible? People don’t just lose a year of their lives, do they?
—Not naturally, no, Zephyros agrees, his eyes narrowed. I fear this was done to you.
I place a hand on my stomach as it twists. —What are you saying? That someone took my memories? Why? What happened to me?
He shakes his great head at a loss, then suddenly straightens his neck and tilts his head, listening. After a beat, he rumbles in displeasure.
—We need to get out of here! he says. The Stormsong whelp is here.
My heart skips. Oh, Goddess! Do I have the strength to face him again? A year might have passed for everyone else, but for me, everything is still fresh, especially the look on Vaylen’s face when I told him everything.
—Mount. I’ll carry you far from here. Somewhere they’ll never find us.
I struggle to my feet, legs trembling beneath me.
—You’re still wanted for Cindergrasp’s murder, he urges. If you stay, you’ll spend your life in a prison cell. I won’t let them take you. Not again.
—Zephyros, he knows I’m a Weaver.
—By all the stars! That will do more than land you in a prison cell. They’ll hang you.
I stare at Zephyros, paralyzed between the urge to flee and something else tugging at my heart. A year. A whole year gone from my life just like that, stolen by a stranger.
“How much more am I willing to lose?” I whisper aloud.
—Every moment we delay is dangerous. Mount now! Zephyros bends his knee, ready for me to climb.
But I don’t move. My legs refuse to carry me toward him.
“We’ve been through this. If I run now, I’ll run forever,” I say, my voice stronger than I feel. “I’d be giving up everything I worked for. Everything I am.”
—What you will be is alive. The alternative is a prison cell or worse.
A shudder runs through me. They execute Weavers. I know. My hands tremble as I push tangled hair from my face.
—Has Vaylen... did he tell them what I am? I ask.
Zephyros hesitates, his enormous clear eyes blinking slowly. —No. He has kept your secrets.
My heart stutters.
—He didn’t tell anyone?
—No.
Something warm unfurls in my chest. Hope, fragile but persistent. Vaylen could have condemned me with a single word, but he didn’t. Even after all my many lies and omissions.
—I’m staying, I announce, squaring my shoulders.
Zephyros rears back, wings flaring in agitation. —You cannot be serious! This is your freedom. Your life, at stake!
—And what kind of life would it be? I challenge him. Always hiding, always running, looking over my shoulder until I die? That’s not living, Zephyros. That’s just... existing.
—Better than not existing at all, he growls.
—I want more, and I need answers. I plant my feet more firmly, even as the world seems to tilt around me. I need to know what happened to me, why I lost a year of my life. And I can’t discover that while hiding in some cave or isle.
His tail lashes in frustration, stirring up dust clouds. —Stubborn, foolish human, he grumbles.
—You wouldn’t have bonded with me if I wasn’t exactly like you, I counter, offering him a weak smile.
—This is a mistake.
—Probably, I agree. But it’s my mistake to make.
I turn toward the sound of approaching wingbeats, heart hammering against my ribs. Whatever comes next, I’ll face it standing, not running away.