Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Istood frozen, still trying to make sense of the words hanging in the air.
Tae. Ascending.
He was a lowborn… technically. But we all knew the truth. He was a noble, born to a house that had quietly slipped from grace, demoted and forced into Thrall Squad as punishment for something that had nothing to do with him.
This wasn’t just a promotion.
This was his chance to reclaim not only his station—but to leap ranks. To rise above what had been stripped from him.
I glanced at Riven, and she was staring too, with her arms crossed.
We both knew what this meant.
And yet… Tae smiled, slow and warm, and turned to the Stormforge lieutenant.
“I’m flattered,” he said. “Truly. But I belong with Thrall Squad.”
He glanced back at us, at Riven, at me, at the others waiting just outside the room.
“They’re my family.”
I blinked, stunned.
So did Riven.
Then, with a sudden burst of movement, she stepped forward and threw her arms around him in a quick, fierce hug.
“I knew you weren’t a total jerk,” she muttered, her voice choked with something unspoken.
Tae laughed, the sound surprised and real. “You say that like it hurts.”
She pulled back, rolling her eyes.
The Stormforge lieutenant nodded once, his expression unreadable, but I saw it in the small shift of his jaw. He was disappointed.
But impressed.
“I’ll let my squad leader know,” he said. “You’ll be missed.”
And with that, he turned and left, his cloak snapping behind him like thunder in retreat.
We stood in silence for a beat, the weight of what Tae had chosen settling around us.
He had been given power.
And chose us instead.
And that… meant more than he’d ever know.
Tae lay back on the cot, one arm draped lazily across his stomach, the other bandaged and still healing from the knife that should’ve done far more damage than it had. The golden light of Meri’s magic had faded, but the warmth of what he’d just done hadn’t.
I sat beside him and reached out, resting my hand lightly on the edge of the cot.
“Tae,” I said softly. “That was… a big deal. You didn’t have to turn them down.”
He cracked one eye open, the ghost of a smile already forming. “Please. Stormforge takes themselves way too seriously. And I would never be able to spike the morning tea.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
He tried to brush it off, as always, his voice light. “What can I say? Thrall Squad’s more fun. And Ferrula would gut me.”
But Riven, and I both knew the truth.
He wasn’t choosing fun.
He was choosing us.
Because his own brother, his blood, had betrayed him. Had taken everything.
And now, we were what he had left.
We were his family.
I gave him a look, lips curved into a smirk. “You just like the attention.”
He winked, the cocky edge returning for just a second. “What can I say? I live to be admired.”
Then, like the fight had finally caught up to him, his eyes fluttered closed.
Meri moved closer, pulling the blanket up to his chest. “He needs rest,” she murmured. “That power of his takes more out of him than he lets on.”
I nodded and stood.
Riven moved to follow, but I touched her arm lightly.
“Give me a moment,” I said. “I need to speak with Kaelith.”
She nodded, squeezing my hand once before slipping into the corridor.
I turned back toward the door, and the dragon who still hadn’t spoken to me since she had me block my bond from Zander.
I stepped into the shadowed edge of the courtyard, beyond the torchlight, where the air was quieter and the hum of castle life faded beneath the sound of distant dragon wings.
The clouds above slid by coldly, and Kaelith circled them like a shadow gliding through, silent, watching.
Kaelith, I reached out through the bond, tentative, unsure if she’d answer.
For a long, aching moment, there was only the wind.
I hear you, her voice came, quieter than I’d ever heard it. Not cold, just… wary.
I need to talk to you, I said. About the prophecy.
Prophecies, she corrected gently. I know.
I exhaled slowly. There’s more than one. And few of them end well.
She was quiet again, flying her slow arc above the castle towers.
I’m scared, I admitted, the words torn from somewhere deeper than I expected. If there’s even a chance I will become what they fear... I’d rather die than destroy everything.
Her voice slipped back into my mind, warm and resolute. You are the destroyer, Ashlyn.
The words gutted me.
But then she added, What you destroy… and what rises from it… that is up to you.
I leaned against the stone wall, chest tight. How do I know what path I’m on? How do I choose when everything feels like it’s set in motion already?
There was a pause, then the rustle of wings and the deep thrum of her presence filling my mind fully for the first time in days.
There is one way to narrow the prophecy. To eliminate a few, Kaelith said.
My pulse jumped. How?
We must go to the Hatchling Isle.
A chill spread through me, but not from fear. From knowing.
That whatever came next would shape everything.
When? I asked.
Kaelith’s growl echoed softly in my chest.
Now.
Kaelith soared across the pale ocean sky, her wings carving through clouds like blades. The air shifted as we descended, the salt gritty in my throat, the mist from the sea rising to meet us.
The Hatchling Isle came into view below—a crescent of land blanketed in silver-leaved trees and rocky cliffs that cradled ancient nesting grounds.
It was part of the greater Dragon Isle chain, but just far enough from the mainland that no casual rider—or curious eye—would ever catch sight of the younglings learning to breathe fire above the treetops.
Kaelith’s wings beat once more, and we dropped lower.
Below, a rise of sun-warmed stone held a clutch of eggs nestled in the moss-lined basin. Glossy shells shimmered in shades of pearl and smoke, hints of color swirling beneath the surface like sleeping storms.
As we landed, a red Swift dragon stirred nearby. And I dismounted in an swift hurried motion.
The red dragon rose from the shade of a low-hanging cliff, her narrow form curling around the nest protectively. Her scales caught the light like fresh blood. Her eyes locked on me immediately—wary, intense. A flicker of flame danced deep in her throat, just behind her serrated teeth.
I stepped back instinctively.
She will not hesitate, Kaelith warned, her voice cold steel. If you try to touch a hatchling, she will kill you.
“Noted,” I murmured aloud, keeping my hands at my sides.
Kaelith moved beside me, lowering her head until her golden eyes were level with mine.
You’re not here to claim. You’re here to listen, she said. Reach out with your power. Not to touch. Not to hinder. Simply to feel what has not yet awoken.
I nodded and knelt slowly on the stone, the heat of the sun still clinging to its surface.
I closed my eyes and reached inward, searching for that quiet place where my magic lived—storm-wrapped and coiled, a tempest that always waited at the edge of control.
Then I let it drift outward.
Not to bind. Not to burn.
Just… to sense.
The air shifted.
My magic stirred, curling toward the clutch like a wind threading through tall grass.
And I felt them.
Not as thoughts or voices—but as essence.
One was fire, chaotic, flickering, full of laughter that hadn’t been born yet. Another was ice, calm and slow, a presence of ancient patience even before breath.
One pulsed with raw curiosity, its magic brushing against mine like a heartbeat too fast.
My breath caught.
They weren’t even hatched, and yet their presence filled the air, thick and trembling with untapped power.
Kaelith stood behind me, her wings cloaked wide, shielding us from the wind.
They know you’re here, she whispered into my mind. They always do.
And in that moment, I knew these unborn dragons, these sleeping storms were the future.
And somehow, so was I.
The shells began to tremble.
Soft cracks echoed across the warm stone as the eggs stirred, subtle at first, then stronger.
A glint of ruby shimmered beneath one shifting shell, the pulse of magic behind it syncing with my own heartbeat. Another rocked gently in its moss cradle, rolling a fraction toward me.
My breath caught in my throat.
They weren’t just sensing me.
They were reaching for me.
Drawn to my magic like it was a beacon in the dark.
That’s enough, Kaelith’s voice cut through the haze. Pull back, Ashe. Now.
I did, snapping the tether of magic I’d extended, heart pounding in my chest.
They want to come to you, Kaelith said grimly. If they hatch prematurely, they will die.
I stumbled back as the still-shifting eggs settled, the magic around them retreating slowly like a tide pulling from the shore.
Without another word, I climbed onto Kaelith’s back.
Her wings opened wide, and within seconds, the Hatchling Isle fell behind us, the wind carving at my skin, my mind still filled with the echo of unborn dragons that had almost answered my call.
But Kaelith…
I could feel her tension beneath me. The coil of unease that hadn’t been there before.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice pulled tight by the wind. “You’re worried.”
I understand now, she said quietly, her thoughts weightier than before. Why the Blood Fae want you.
I gripped the saddle. “What do you mean?”
Your power… it’s not just rare. It’s dangerous.
“To them?”
To everyone, she said. You could be used to enslave the next generation. Dragons too young to defend their minds could be bound to you.
My stomach dropped. “But I wouldn’t—”
That’s not the point, Kaelith growled. In the wrong hands, your power becomes a weapon beyond anything we’ve ever known.
I went cold. “What are you saying?”
There was a pause.
They could use you to make the Blood Fae fertile again.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“What?” I whispered.
Their lines have fallen, Kaelith said. Corrupted by too much dark magic. Twisted by what they did to the old blood. But you… your magic is tied to life and destruction. A storm that gives breath or takes it away.
The weight of that knowledge settled over me like a shroud.
I wasn’t just the destroyer.
I was the key to something far worse.
Or far greater.
And now, I had no idea which.
Kaelith descended in a slow, sweeping arc over the Ascension Grounds, her massive wings rustling the trees at the cliff’s edge as we returned.
The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in shades of amber and bruised violet.
She landed with a thunderous thud, stone cracking faintly beneath her talons.
I slid off her back, boots hitting the ground harder than I expected. My legs were trembling, not from the flight, but from what I’d just learned.
I turned to her, needing something, anything, to hold on to.
“Did that help?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Did going to the Hatchling Isle eliminate any of the prophecies?”
She didn’t speak right away.
Yes, she said.
Relief surged in my chest for half a second.
Until she added, Most of the favorable ones.
My heart dropped like a stone.
Kaelith said nothing more. She didn’t have to.
She was even more wary of me now. I could feel it in the tight coil of her magic, the distance she put between us the moment I dismounted.
She was afraid of me.
I nodded, numb. “Thank you,” I said aloud. But she didn’t answer. She just turned and took off again, disappearing into the twilight like a storm cloud retreating beyond the cliffs.
I made my way back to the barracks in silence, the stone halls stretching cold and empty around me.
When I stepped inside, my squad was scattered in various states of exhaustion. Ferrula cleaning her boots, Naia combing out her braid, Cordelle scribbling in one of his books with ink-stained fingers.
Jax looked up as I walked in. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” I lied, offering a faint smile. “Just needed air.”
“Don’t we all,” Riven muttered, tossing me a wrapped piece of bread. “Eat. You look like death.”
I caught it, nodded again, and retreated to my cot. I mumbled goodnights I didn’t mean, and when I finally lay down, the ceiling above me swam with shadows.
I closed my eyes.
Sleep dragged me down fast.
And the blood dream returned.
Dark stone.
Flickering torchlight.
The altar again, carved with runes slick with crimson.
But this time, it wasn’t Zander lying on it.
It was me.
And someone was watching.
Smiling.