Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
The scrape of spoons against porridge bowls and the low clink of mugs were the only sounds filling the dining hall.
The heavy, uneasy silence wrapped around our table like a shroud.
I stirred my food absently, the vivid images of Kaelith bleeding on the Blood Isle still burning behind my eyes. I hadn’t said much about the dream, and no one pushed. They could feel it though, how unsettled I was.
Jax poked at his bread without eating. Naia traced the rim of her cup with one finger.
Ferrula sat rigid, her gaze flicking between the door and the windows as if expecting danger at any moment.
Even Tae, usually too restless to sit still, stared blankly at his plate.
Riven and Cordelle discussed a text he had borrowed from his father, in low voices.
Zander broke through the tension as he approached, Cade trailing close behind him. Both wore their riding leathers, crisp and battle-ready.
Zander slid onto the bench beside me without hesitation. Cade took the spot next to Jax.
“We’re headed to Kruisaan,” Zander said, setting his mug down with a dull thud. “Supply lines are failing. We’re going to check it out.”
“What happened?” Jax asked, his voice low and resolute.
Cade leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table. “More wagons have gone missing. No survivors. It’s getting worse.”
We exchanged glances, the same thought rising unspoken between us.
“The Blood Fae?” Naia asked.
“Possibly,” Cade said. “But the missing shipments are too clean. No scorch marks. No blood. Just... gone.”
“Could be one of the new sects,” Ferrula muttered, frowning into her cup. “They’ve been growing bold.”
“Or someone’s helping them,” Riven added, her tone grim.
We finished eating quickly after that, shoving back from the table before the rest of the squads had even finished their first rounds.
The sun was barely clearing the castle spires as we crossed the courtyard to the Ascension Grounds.
I tilted my head back and called out to Kaelith, feeling the answering tug in my chest as she stirred in my mind.
One by one, our dragons appeared with wingbeats heavy in the cool morning air.
Kaelith landed first, her massive purple form stirring dust and gravel in a wide circle. Her golden eyes found mine immediately, sharp and unsettled.
Tense, I noted silently. Why are you so tense?
She didn’t answer.
Jax’s dragon, Koddos followed, the massive blue Palisade whose thick, armored scales gleamed like polished shields.
Then Cade’s dragon, Voth, swooped in—a red Palisade, slightly smaller but just as broad-shouldered, with similar heavy plates guarding his neck and sides.
They landed close to each other, standing side by side with an ease I rarely saw between two adult dragons.
I glanced at Cade as I tightened Kaelith’s saddle straps. “Are Voth and Koddos related?”
Cade grinned, patting Voth’s thick, ridged side. “Yeah. Same parents. Different clutch, though. Voth’s younger. Notice the scale patterns along their flanks? They’re almost identical.”
I stepped closer, tracing my eyes along the thick, interlocking shields that ran down Voth’s side like layered armor.
“I noticed they’re more comfortable standing near each other than most dragons,” I said.
“Yeah,” Cade said. “Siblings are less territorial... until mating instincts kick in. Koddos is a couple hundred years older, though. Voth won’t reach mating maturity until long after I’m dust.”
“Convenient for now,” Jax said, flashing a grin as he strapped down his gear.
Once everyone finished checking saddles and gear, we mounted.
Kaelith rumbled under me, her tail lashing once, then curling in tightly. Her wings twitched at her sides.
She was tense. Restless.
With a powerful beat of wings, we launched into the sky, heading east toward Kruisaan, and whatever waited for us there.
The wind whipped across my face as we flew, the wide stretch of Warriath shrinking behind us.
Ahead, the misty outline of Kruisaan’s mountain ridges rose on the horizon, large and jagged against the pale morning sky.
Kaelith shifted beneath me, her wings dipping slightly. I caught Zander’s hand signal from his place ahead to veer left.
We adjusted course, skimming lower toward the road that snaked like a scar between Warriath and Kruisaan.
Cade’s dragon Voth angled down first, landing in a wide clearing just off the road, stirring dirt and dry leaves into the air. The rest of us followed, boots hitting the packed ground with solid thuds as we dismounted.
“This is the last place the wagons were seen,” Cade said, nodding toward the road. His eyes swept the area, acute and calculating.
I followed his gaze.
Wagon tracks marred the dirt up to a point, and then, nothing. No deep grooves. No broken branches. No trail leading away.
It was like the wagons had simply vanished into thin air.
Jax crouched low, brushing his fingers along the edge of one of the ruts. “Tracks end here. No drag marks. No splintered wood. Same as last time.”
Ferrula frowned. “Could’ve lifted the goods and left the wagons behind, but then where the hell are the wagons?”
I turned, scanning the tree line. Human boot prints. Dozens of them, leading away from the road and into the dense forest beyond.
“Cade,” I said, motioning him over. “Tracks heading east. Maybe a mile in.”
He jogged up beside me, squinting at the prints. “Light loads. Moving fast.”
We were still discussing when the first arrow whistled past my ear.
Kaelith roared, her massive body surging forward instinctively as men in tattered tunics erupted from the forest.
More than twenty of them. Dirty, desperate-looking, armed with rusted blades and battered axes.
I drew my short sword just as the first wave hit, steel clashing against steel.
They weren’t skilled—most of their strikes were wild, reckless—but there were too many.
Ferrula swung her sword, sending two attackers sprawling. Jax planted himself between Naia and a group of three men, using his bulk like a living shield.
Riven moved like a shadow, fast and lethal, her blade flashing in quick, efficient thrusts.
Cade unleashed a short burst of wind magic that sent a handful of them sprawling backward, buying us a moment’s breathing room.
I ducked a sloppy sword swing and countered hard, driving the hilt of my blade into a man’s jaw. He crumpled with a grunt.
And then I saw him.
Charging through the chaos, straight toward me.
Luther.
Once a Fourth Guild member, now wearing the battered remains of a First Guild tunic, the sigil torn. No dragon had chosen him.
His face twisted with hate as he raised his sword and lunged for me.
“Luther,” I hissed under my breath, fury igniting my veins.
I parried his blow, the clash of our blades reverberating up my arms.
He grinned, a feral, broken thing. “You should’ve stayed in your place, rider.”
I shoved him back with a snarl, the fire rising in my chest.
Luther’s blade moved fast.
He wasn’t like the other rebels flailing around the clearing with rusted swords and broken pride.
Every strike he threw at me was calculated, precise, a brutal testament to years of training.
He hadn’t been chosen by a dragon. I knew that. Everyone in the guild knew that.
But his father had been a rider. And his grandfather before that. All the men in his family bore the mark of the guild.
He’d likely spent his whole life preparing, only to be passed over when it mattered most.
And now, here he was, trying to carve out worth with a bloodied sword.
His blade sliced low, nicking my thigh. I hissed through my teeth, but didn’t falter, pivoting fast enough to catch his next swing on the flat of my sword.
“Why?” I spat, forcing him back a step with a hard jab. “Why the Crimson Sigil?”
He smirked, that feral gleam in his eyes again. “How can you be sure we’re affiliated with them?”
Doubt prickled at the back of my mind. Am I sure?
Another swing, harder this time. I caught it barely; the force jarring my injured leg and sending pain lancing up my side.
I gritted my teeth and fought through it. Focus. Move.
“You betrayed us,” I said, panting as I parried.
“The warders and Fourth Guild have it coming,” he sneered.
“The warders? Why, Luther?”
He pressed the attack, relentless, our blades locking for a moment as he leaned close enough that I could see the wildness flickering in his eyes.
“There’s a bigger picture,” he said, voice low, almost pitying. “But you’re too blind to see it.”
He shoved me back and began circling.
“Others have already taken my place in the guild,” he sneered, feinting left and striking right. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
I blocked high, the impact rattling my bones.
“No dragon chose you,” I snarled, anger crackling through me. “Because you weren’t worthy.”
The words hit harder than my blade ever could.
His face twisted in rage, and he came at me with renewed fury, his strikes faster, heavier, more reckless.
Kaelith’s roar split the sky, a sound so deep it rattled my ribs, shaking the very marrow inside me.
A moment later, Hein answered, his roar louder, slicing through the smoke like a blade.
Both dragons descended together, fury incarnate.
“Back!” Zander barked, grabbing my arm and yanking me toward the coast.
We stumbled away, our squad following fast, giving the dragons the space they needed, because gods help anyone caught between them and their prey.
Kaelith’s wings flared wide, her scales glowing with a deep, molten light as she opened her jaws and unleashed a torrent of orange flame.
Hein’s dragon fire followed a breath later, white-hot and blistering, colliding with Kaelith’s breath in a cyclone of destruction that devoured the clearing whole.
The rebels screamed.
Some bolted for the trees, wild with terror.
I caught a glimpse of Luther through the smoke, blood running down the side of his face, as he sprinted for the forest and disappeared into the gloom.
But most weren’t so lucky.
The flames caught them mid-run, mid-scream, turning flesh to ash in a heartbeat.