Chapter 43 Rhea
Rhea
The Matron’s eyes burn into mine, twin coals of hatred that freeze the blood in my veins.
She’s so much worse up close, the midnight feathers slick with something dark that might be oil or blood, the massive wings that could envelop me entirely, the talons that could tear through flesh like parchment.
Everything about her radiates the malice of a predator that has hunted humans for centuries.
But it’s those eyes that punch through my defenses. They glow amber in the darkness, eerily similar to Tahranis’s gaze. The similarity can’t be coincidence, can it? My stomach twists as terrible possibilities take shape in my mind.
The flame dancing in her palm hypnotizes me. How can she control fire? In all our histories, in all the stories of this long war, no one has ever reported Screechclaws wielding elemental powers. That’s our advantage, our birthright as Embernians. If they’ve somehow gained this ability...
My thoughts scatter when the Matron speaks.
Her mouth opens, emitting horrible guttural sounds worthy of nightmares. But something impossible happens. The harsh clicks and screeches transform into words inside my mind.
—You… come, Om-neira. We… waken. Time… near.
My knees nearly buckle. How can I understand her? And that name! Why is she using the same name Tahranis called me?
“What the fuck is she saying?” Vaylen whispers.
I take a step forward. Vaylen’s arm extends to block me. I push it aside.
“You understand her?” he asks, shocked, then after a pause, he whispers, “Rhealyn, what does she want?”
The Matron’s burning gaze stays locked on me, and her thoughts push into my mind like unwelcome fingers.
—She… stirs. Curse lifts. Slow… lifts. Fog… lifts. She gestures toward her head.
My heart hammers against my ribs. This creature is speaking directly into my thoughts, which means… she’s a Weaver, just like me. A Screechclaw Weaver. The impossibility of it staggers me.
“How are you in my head?” I demand aloud, ignoring Vaylen’s increasingly alarmed expression. “What do you know about me?”
—We… waited, Omneira.
“Stop calling me that!” I shout, my hands trembling with rage and fear. “What in the seven hells is happening to me?”
She ignores me and continues, —Mountain opened. He… spoke. You walked… dragon mind. Alert… us. Triggers.
“What’s she saying?” Vaylen presses, his voice tight with tension.
I shake my head, unable to comprehend the choppy words flooding my mind. The Matron’s thoughts come in disjointed fragments, like trying to catch raindrops in a storm.
“You make no fucking sense,” I shout, my voice echoing against the cavern walls. The fire in her palm flickers, her face flashing more monstrous still. “What do you want from me?”
Her head tilts, burning eyes narrowing. She nods as if this is precisely the right question, the corner of her cruel mouth lifting in what might be satisfaction.
—Om-neira make... right choice... Her thoughts splinter in my mind, incomplete and jarring. —Time comes... choose... path.
She raises one bony hand to her chest, tapping directly over her heart, the gesture oddly human. The meaning seems clear even through the broken communication. The right choice lies there, within me.
—Her-a-trix... cursed...
My breath catches. “What curse?” I demand, stepping closer despite Vaylen’s attempt to pull me back.
—Eggs... danger…
Frustration boils over. “Stop with the riddles! Just tell me what’s happening!”
Her wings unfurl with a snap, spanning the width of our underground prison. The flame in her palm intensifies, bathing everything in blood-red light. Frustration boiling, she screams. —War... Her-a-trix… KILL…
The flame in her palm explodes outward, lashing like a whip toward my face. I throw myself backward, crashing into Vaylen as heat scorches the air inches from my skin.
The Matron’s face contorts into that same mask of pure hatred I saw at Hearthdale, so savage. Terror freezes my spine even as sweat beads on my forehead from the intense heat.
“You murdered them,” I snarl, wind gathering around my fingertips. “You’re nothing but killers, all of you.”
Her eyes cloud, and a deafening screech ricochets off the walls, piercing and disoriented.
“Rhealyn!” Vaylen shouts, pulling me backward as the flames grow. “Whatever she’s saying, we need to get out of here!”
He yanks me backward as the Matron’s claws slice the air where my throat was a heartbeat ago. The conversation—if you could call it that—is clearly over. Her gaze now holds nothing but murderous intent, all attempts to communicate abandoned. All semblance of reason turned to wild fury.
“Move!” Vaylen shouts, pulling me toward the hole where we entered.
The Matron launches herself at us with terrifying speed, flames extinguishing in her hands. I thrust both palms forward, channeling wind into a battering ram that slams her against the cavern wall. The impact shakes loose dirt from the top, but she recovers instantly, screeching with rage.
“Two Skysingers against one harpy,” I say, falling into formation beside Vaylen. “Should be easy, right?”
Vaylen creates a barrier between us and the Matron. “Does anything about this feel easy to you?”
The Matron thrusts one talon through Vaylen’s Wind Wall, dispersing it like smoke. She produces a blackened metal dagger from beneath her feathers, the same distinctive curved blade the Screechclaws always carry.
“Since when do they control fire?” I ask, lifting my hands as she hurls the dagger with deadly precision. By pure instinct, I summon a gust, deflect it, and send it clattering against stone.
Vaylen creates a Vortex Lift that unsettles the Matron momentarily, but she beats her massive wings, fighting against our combined power with animal strength.
—Zephyros! I call through our bond. We need you now!
The Matron jumps toward me, talons extended. I drop and roll, feeling something hot and wet on my arm where one of her claws connects. Vaylen slams her with a Wind Blast that should have broken bones, but she merely staggers.
From her wing, she pulls another weapon, a serrated dagger that gleams with wicked purpose in the dim light from the shaft. She hurls it at Vaylen, who barely twists away in time.
“Nothing’s stopping her,” I pant, blood seeping through my sleeve as I crouch.
Her eyes drill mine, and for one terrible moment, I see recognition there, but it flickers and dies just as quickly, then her rage fuels to new heights.
She charges again, this time so quickly that neither Vaylen nor I can react fast enough.
Her talons sink into Vaylen’s leg, dragging him.
With a jerk, she slams him against the cavern wall.
I make a Wind Dagger and hurl it at her face, trying to blind her. She quickly moves out of the way, letting go of Vaylen in the process.
“Zephyros!” I scream, both aloud and through our bond.
The ground trembles. Rocks bounce across the floor as the vibration intensifies. Through our bond, I see Zephyros’s massive talons tearing through earth and stone, digging furiously to reach us. His rage floods my mind.
The Matron’s eyes flicker with renewed clarity as if she feels it too. Her head snaps upward toward the ceiling just as a spider web of cracks appears above us, letting more light in.
—Choose... soon... her thoughts hammer into mine one final time before she backs away into the tunnel as larger chunks of rock begin to fall.
“The whole place is coming down!” Vaylen shouts, pulling me toward him as Zephyros’s furious digging destabilizes the entire cavern.
Through our bond, I feel his determination.
—I am coming. Push against the cave-in.
The earth comes down on us in a roar of stone and dust. My Wind Wall forms in a flash, a dome of compressed air catching the first wave of debris. The impact rattles my bones, driving me to one knee.
“Help me!” I gasp at Vaylen, arms trembling as I strain to maintain the barrier, also drawing energy from Zephyros to reinforce our bubble.
Both powers flow alongside mine, our wind currents merging into something stronger than either of us could manage alone. The barrier holds for one heartbeat, two, three… but the weight keeps coming.
“It’s too much,” Vaylen grunts.
The dome compresses inward, forcing us closer together as the space shrinks. My shoulders burn with effort. Each breath rasps painful and shallow in my lungs.
“I fucking refuse to die under a pile of rocks after surviving the fucking Matron,” I snarl, pushing harder against the crushing weight.
Our barrier continues to compress, forcing us lower. Vaylen’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against him as the dome shrinks further.
“If I have to die,” he says through gritted teeth, “at least I’m with you.”
“Don’t you dare get sentimental now,” I snap, though fear squeezes my throat. “We’re not dying here.”
The weight increases, forcing our backs to curve. The dome now barely creates enough space for us to huddle together. Dust chokes every breath. My arms shake violently, muscles screaming in protest.
The crushing pressure suddenly pauses, then—impossibly—lessens. Just a fraction at first, then more noticeably.
Zephyros’s thoughts flood my mind, carrying images of Cliffbecker above us, the veteran Skydune’s weathered face contorted with concentration as his hands move in precise gestures, earth and stone rising away from where we’re trapped, floating in defiance of gravity before being cast aside.
“Cliffbecker,” I gasp to Vaylen. “He’s moving the earth.”
“How do you know?”
“Zephyros is showing me.” I push harder against our shrinking dome, finding new strength. “They’re coming for us.”
The pressure continues to diminish. Through our bond, Zephyros projects fierce determination mixed with relief.
“Don’t let the barrier drop yet,” I warn as the weight lessens further. “We don’t know how stable it is.”