Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
The scent of spiced oats and roasted rootbread drifted through the dining hall, but I barely tasted any of it.
My bowl sat mostly untouched as I picked at it, my mind still clouded with the echoes of the blood dream. The altar, the crimson runes, the smile in the dark.
They weren’t just dreams. I knew that now.
They were warnings.
Tae stepped into the room, freshly dressed, his usual swagger dulled just a little, but his eyes clear.
He slid onto the bench across from me, wincing slightly as his arm bumped the table.
“Morning,” I said, setting my spoon down. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” he said, flashing a tired grin. “I spent the night with the healers. Meri says I’ve got the constitution of a wild dog.”
“She’s not wrong,” Riven muttered around a bite of bread.
We shared a quick laugh before the mood shifted.
Ferrula leaned back, crossing her arms. “Let’s get one thing clear,” she said, leveling her gaze at him. “If you ever try to control me, I will gut you in your sleep.”
Tae held up both hands, deadly serious. “I’d rather die.”
We blinked. He wasn’t joking.
“I’ve only used it to save myself,” he continued. “Or someone else. Never to manipulate. Never to toy with someone.” He glanced down at his plate. “The crown’s not thrilled about it, either. They only let me stay in the guild because I agreed to keep it classified.”
Jax leaned forward, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I disagree with them.”
We all looked up.
“I think you should strengthen it,” he said, pointing his fork at Tae. “It’s a rare gift. Could be a real weapon against the fae if it comes down to it.”
Tae gave him a skeptical look. “You’re volunteering to let me try to crawl around in your skull?”
Jax smirked. “Why not?”
Tae shook his head immediately. “No way. I hate using it. It doesn’t feel right. It’s like pressing into someone else’s soul.”
I leaned forward. “Where did it come from? Your power.”
Tae hesitated. Then said, “My mother.”
I blinked. “She was a…”
“She was a commoner. No powerful bloodline, not that anyone could tell. My father… he was shocked. I think part of him never really believed she had anything in her blood. But there it was. A small, glimmering bit of mind magic. It passed to me, and… well.” He gestured vaguely to himself. “The rest you’ve seen.”
Naia sat forward, her expression thoughtful. “I agree with Jax.”
Tae raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t have to like your power,” she said. “But you do have to make it strong enough to help us. You could be our last defense in another fae attack. That’s not just rare… it’s essential.”
Tae looked around at all of us. The quiet trust in our eyes. The understanding.
He exhaled, slow and unsure.
“I’ll think about it,” he said.
And for now, that was enough.
The table had gone quiet, the weight of Tae’s admission lingering in the air like smoke after a fire. His shoulders were tight, his usual charm dulled, and I knew that look, knew the guilt hiding behind his careful half-smile.
He needed a way out. A shift.
So I gave it to him.
“Well,” I said, setting down my spoon with a deliberate clink, “since we’re all trading secrets over breakfast, I might as well tell you where I was yesterday.”
Cordelle looked up from his notes, and Ferrula arched an eyebrow.
“You weren’t with Zander?” Naia asked.
“No,” I said. “Kaelith took me to the Hatchling Isle.”
Everyone froze.
“You’re joking,” Riven said flatly.
“I don’t joke about sacred dragon grounds.”
“You went to Hatchling Isle?” Jax leaned forward. “They don’t let anyone near there.”
“She said I needed to feel the future,” I said softly, the memory still warm and strange. “To understand what my magic could do.”
Cordelle’s brows furrowed. “And?”
I hesitated. “When I reached out… not to touch, just to sense… the unborn dragons stirred. The eggs moved. They reacted to me. Like they knew I was there.”
Ferrula whistled under her breath. “Gods.”
“That’s not the worst of it,” I said. “Kaelith said if I hadn’t stopped, they might’ve hatched early. And if that had happened…”
“They would’ve died,” Cordelle finished, face gone pale.
I nodded.
“I didn’t mean to call them. But Kaelith…” I paused. “She’s scared. She said my magic has dark roots, ones that run deeper than she realized. That it could be used to bind dragons, maybe even awaken bloodlines that were never meant to rise again.”
“You’re talking about the Blood Fae,” Riven said quietly.
I met her eyes. “She said I could be used to make them fertile again.”
Naia’s spoon clattered to her plate.
“That’s dark magic,” Tae said, his voice quiet but firm. “Deep magic. Ancient.”
I nodded again. “It’s a part of me. And now… it’s awakened.”
The table fell silent.
Not in fear.
In solidarity.
And that silence meant more than any oath.
Because now they knew.
We finished breakfast in silence after that—no more jokes, no more casual ribbing. Just the quiet scrape of utensils and the occasional rustle of leather as someone shifted. My words had shaken them, but they hadn’t pulled away.
Still, I felt… hollow.
Zander had been avoiding me since the meeting with Alahathrial. Kaelith hadn’t said a word since she left last night.
And I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was slipping out from under me.
We made our way to the Ascension Grounds in our usual formation with our boots crunching over gravel, and the wind tugging at our hair. The early light stretched long across the worn stone where we trained, banners lifting above the walls like they were trying to escape.
I drifted behind the others a little, my steps heavy.
Where did I even stand anymore?
When no one was looking, I reached beneath my armor and pulled my pendant free.
It used to shimmer violet, a rare shade that pulsed with Kaelith’s magic, her defiance, her fire.
But now…
Now it was almost entirely gold.
The purple was fading.
Like she was pulling away, like the bond itself was unraveling under the weight of what I might become.
I closed my fingers around it tightly, pressing it to my palm.
I’m not the enemy, I whispered in my mind. I didn’t ask for any of this.
But the silence from Kaelith was louder than a roar.
Riven glanced over her shoulder and slowed her pace to match mine. She didn’t say anything. Just bumped her shoulder against mine.
I managed a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
Because deep down, I couldn’t help thinking—
What was the point of winning a war if I lose everything that makes me who I am?
The sun hung low over the Ascension Grounds as Major Ledor stood in front of our formation, his posture ramrod straight, arms clasped behind his back like he was carved from stone. His voice carried with authority, cutting through the crisp morning air.
“Mid-air assault is about precision,” he barked, sweeping his gaze across us. “Not speed. The enemy will use chaos to draw your dragons off course. Your job is to direct, not to react, and use altitude to your advantage.”
He began sketching diagrams in the air with a small wooden wand.
One that left a glittering blue line. Swooping curves, tight turns, broken flight patterns designed to disorient and test reaction times.
“This is the V-curve formation. You’ll test it during your next flight trial.
It demands a split-second synchronization between rider and dragon.
One misstep, and you’ll drop like lead.”
I nodded. Or at least, I pretended to. My eyes were locked on him, but my thoughts were drifting, scattered pieces in a storm I couldn’t escape.
Kaelith hadn’t spoken to me in over a day. Not since the Hatchling Isle.
And worse, she’d cut me off.
You are not to share your magic, she’d said, her voice clipped and colder than I’d ever heard it. Not until I say otherwise.
Like I was a threat to others.
Like I couldn’t be trusted.
My stomach twisted.
I held it together through our instruction, barely speaking, barely blinking. I smiled when I had to. Answered when I was called. But something inside me had gone fragile and raw, like a nerve exposed to the wind.
Later, after training, I escaped to the washroom.
Alone.
I braced my hands on the stone basin and stared at the water pooling in the bowl, until it started to ripple.
No. No, no—
The surrounding air thickened. My magic, sealed too long, shuddered outward. Wind cracked like thunder. Sparks flared across the mirror. The water rose, spiraled, froze midair, and shattered against the floor in a burst of ice and steam.
I crumpled to my knees, choking on a sob I couldn’t hold back.
I was losing control.
Losing everything.
And that was when I felt it.
A whisper.
A thread of warmth, curling into my mind like smoke through a locked window.
You’re in pain, said a voice I hadn’t heard in some time.
Siergen.
My breath hitched. Where are you?
But his presence was faint. Distant. Like he was calling from the edge of a void.
Far. But always with you.
How?
Blood ties are deeper than any other.
I clutched the edge of the basin, shaking. I can’t hold this much power alone.
His voice coiled through the splintered cracks of my soul.
Then don’t.
Then he was gone.
But the silence that followed wasn’t quite as dark.
I sat on the edge of my bed after evening drills, the barracks quiet, the others scattered—some washing up, some sneaking food, some pretending not to watch me. The lantern by the door flickered low, casting long shadows that swayed across the floor.
I closed my eyes and reached inward, willing the thread to stretch across the bond I hadn’t dared touch since the dreams began.
And then—
Little storm cloud.
My breath caught.
His voice slid into my mind like silk over steel, familiar, dangerous, comforting in the strangest ways.
You always respond to me… when others don’t, I whispered silently, a faint smile tugging the corner of my mouth.
You are special to me.
I let out a shaky exhale. Where are you, Siergen?
A canyon north of Thubia, he replied, tone clipped now. The terrain’s torn to pieces. Burn marks in the stone, but no signs of dragons. Or people. Just… ash.
You’re searching for the Varnari.
And whoever is helping them, he confirmed. There’s something here. Not just in the rocks, his voice lowered, the magic. It’s warped. Wrong. I’ve never felt fae power echo like this before.
A pulse of worry rippled through my chest. Can you trace it?
That’s the problem, he said. Every time I try, it disappears. It’s like chasing smoke through fog.
I leaned forward, heart thudding. Siergen, if the Varnari are building something…
They’re not building, he cut in. They’re awakening something. Digging it up. Magic this old doesn’t just hum. It remembers.
I shivered.
What do you need me to do?
There was a long pause. Then his voice softened.
Stay alive, little storm cloud. You’re more important than you know.
Then—static.
A jagged pulse of magic crackled across the bond like lightning, and then the thread went dark.
“Siergen?” I whispered aloud, standing so fast my cot groaned. “Siergen!”
Nothing.
Just silence.
And the sound of my heart pounding in the hollow of my chest.
He was gone.
And I feared that something had found him first.