Chapter 3 #2
The mountains cracked open into the Maw, the sky fevered with a hunger coiled to erupt. Rimmed in black stone, the earth lay gutted from horizon to horizon, a black lake sunken at its center. Above the water, storm-swollen clouds writhed, spewing lightning in serrated convulsions.
None among the rangers could bend the elements like Jassyn or Serenna. At best, they could shield with Essence. The only question was for how long.
“We’re training as fast as we can,” Lykor said. “But it isn’t enough. You can’t speak to Skylash through the Heart? Find where she’s bound?”
“If the relic remains silent for Serenna after all your forcing, it won’t answer for me,” Cinderax replied. “Skylash’s mind might lie too deep in the dream-sleep to catch the echo of any voice.”
“So we fly through that storm blind.” Lykor grunted. “And hope to stumble over her before the lightning kills someone?”
“Well,” the dragon said, the word landing heavier than his usual barbs, “not you. But yes—everyone else.”
Lykor tensed in the saddle. Maroon eyes flicked toward him, unblinking. Too knowing. He ground his fangs, hating that this insufferable little beast knew the truth.
Frills settling along his spine, Cinderax’s tone shifted, uncharacteristically solemn. “If there were a way, I’d see you fly on your own wings.”
Lykor didn’t look at him. Just stared ahead at the rangers soaring, jaw locked until the hinge throbbed. “Keep your pity.”
“You’ve mistaken motion for meaning,” Cinderax said. “You hate the thought of being left behind because you think if you’re flying—if you’re in the sky with them—you’ll keep them from falling.”
Lykor’s fists clenched, the truth driving home like a splinter. Not only the part about being grounded. But the certainty of who’d be flying headfirst into the storm.
Jassyn.
And not being there to watch his back burned most of all.
A surge of Essence flared across the peaks, snapping Lykor’s gaze to the fractured edge of the range. Spans ahead, Zaeryn’s formation clipped the storm’s teeth. Still astride her dracovae, she rode point, the pair of them haloed in a bright shield.
The storm’s edge flickered. Gleaming too fast.
Lightning split the sky.
The blast scythed sideways. A jagged streak of violet fury slammed through Zaeryn’s shield, colliding with the dracovae. No thunder followed. The beast shrieked as its wings convulsed, fire burning feathers as it veered too late to dodge.
Ripped free of the saddle, Zaeryn tumbled through open air. Her wings thrashed, catching nothing as the earth dragged her faster.
For one suspended moment, it seemed the peaks might shred her and the beast both.
But then Vesryn dove, dropping from Naru’s back like an arrow loosed, wings tucked tight.
Knees tightening, Aesar coiled, poised to steer Trella after Vesryn’s dive toward Zaeryn. Lykor wrenched back control before they could.
Zaeryn would survive. Crawl out of the wreckage as if it were a challenge. Fate liked to flirt with her, never fuck her proper.
Like during the king’s raid on the Ranger Station—where Zaeryn had been torn open. And who had crouched beside her in the jungle after that to keep her breathing?
Jassyn.
“You’re remarkably fixated for someone who swears he doesn’t care,” Aesar said coolly.
“DON’T.”
“You haven’t looked him in the eyes all week. And you’re the one who nearly kissed—”
Lykor slammed the door on Aesar’s voice, a vicious snap like jamming a blade into bone. His throat closed as he stared into the storm, willing it to devour the memory whole.
But it didn’t.
Jassyn’s words from before they’d freed Cinderax resurfaced in his mind—unguarded and devastating. I need you.
Lykor didn’t want to remember that voice, soft and sure under Asharyn’s lake in the tunnel’s dark. But it haunted him now, like it always did.
His gaze cut back to the peaks, where the rangers raced through the sky, their dracovae stark against the convulsing clouds. He didn’t need to look closer to know Vesryn had played the hero, swooping in to catch Zaeryn.
Lykor’s eyes dropped lower, drawn to Zaeryn’s mount spiraling in a wounded arc. One wing dragged flame like a comet’s tail, the beast shearing sideways in a frantic struggle. Fire chewed through pinions as it clawed for the sky, the storm writhing above.
Cinderax chuffed. A challenge. “Will you let the beast burn?”
Lykor’s jaw locked. The dracovae didn’t deserve this. Loyal. Obedient. Bred to follow, now yanked into another’s recklessness. A casualty of incompetence, not war.
Next time, he hoped lightning would skin Zaeryn from the sky instead. He wouldn’t mourn.
Lykor blew out a sigh as Aesar adjusted their weight. Cinderax crouched low along Trella’s spine, claws hooking into the saddle’s harness. Trella dipped hard, wings folding tight as she sliced downward.
Air rushed past Lykor’s ears as he reached for the ember burning steady beneath his ribs. He lifted a hand toward the dracovae flailing below and pulled.
Flames tore free from its feathers like a serpent ripped from the marrow of the sun. Fire lashed wide as he flung it past the Dreadspire’s peaks, hurling it into the Maw.
For a heartbeat, a strange stillness rippled across the sky. Even this far from the threshold, static crawled under Lykor’s skin, lifting hairs, building pressure in his bones.
Above the broken ridge, sparks gathered, braiding into light. Then lightning twisted from the clouds, wild and veering, bent on pursuit. Drawn to the flame Lykor had cast into the Maw like a lure. Chasing. Hunting.
Lightning collided with fire in an eruption of violet and gold, cleaving the sky in a searing spray of sparks.
As the impact dissipated, Zaeryn’s dracovae caught a current. Barely. Trailing smoke, it banked low, gliding earthward. Scorched, but alive.
Cinderax rumbled an approval before launching from Trella’s back. He glided toward Vesryn, who’d already made it to the ground with Zaeryn.
Lykor didn’t watch the dracovae’s rescue. He studied his hand instead. Flame coiled around his fingers. Proof. Purpose. A weapon.
The lightning hadn’t struck the fire at random. It had followed the flame. Pursued it like prey. He’d bent the Maw’s fury from the sky. Turned it aside.
Maybe he couldn’t fly to Skylash on his own with the others. But he could still protect them.
An echo stirred in his mind. I need you.
Lykor exhaled through his nose and crushed the flame in his fist. The ember snarled in his ribs, but he forced it down. Shoved the fire back into the cavity in his chest where all dangerous feelings belonged.
Some things were safer caged.