Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“What do we do now?” I asked, the weight of the map like lead in my hand. The lines carved into the parchment pulsed, almost like veins—alive with something I didn’t quite understand.
Zander stepped closer, his voice quiet but distinct. “Now? We plan the trip to the Blood Isle. With that map, we know where the wards are weakest.”
“The map is just lines and sigils,” I said, turning it over. “How do we know where to go once we’re inside?”
“The key, and the maps in the castle vault,” Zander said, tapping a finger near the bottom of the parchment. “That’s what we need.”
“What key?” I asked, staring at the faded ink where he’d pointed. There was a shimmer in the corner—runes I hadn’t noticed before, curved and etched in a language older than our kingdom.
Zander’s jaw flexed. “The key isn’t an object. It’s a person. This map doesn’t just show you where to enter—it’s written in a dialect of ancient fae. More than that, it’s enchanted to respond only to a specific type of magic.”
I frowned. “What kind of magic?”
Zander turned his head, locking eyes with Remy. “Do you think Remand was my father’s favorite because of his winning personality?”
I blinked, confused. Then it hit me.
I turned toward Remy. His expression was unreadable.
“You can read the fae maps.”
He exhaled slowly, silver gaze heavy with something that looked a lot like regret. “You need Wraith’s Caress to interpret them, and Phantom Step, is part of it.”
“Convenient,” Jax muttered under his breath.
Remy didn’t rise to the bait. He just looked at me. “I never wanted this power. But I have it. So if you want to find the Blood King’s vault and whatever secrets he left behind... you’re going to need me.”
My fingers curled around the map.
The one person I trusted the least might be the only one who could lead us into hell, and get us back out again. I knew it, but I didn’t like it.
Zander motioned for us to leave.
We mounted our dragons beneath a moonless sky, shadows draping the land in silence.
The cold air rushed against my skin as Kaelith lifted off, her wings slicing through the dark like blades of lightless violet.
One by one, our squad joined her in the air.
Hein, Temil, Kass, Narvea, and the rest, our silhouettes nothing but ghosts drifting across the stars.
I leaned forward, resting against Kaelith’s warm neck, letting the soft rhythm of her flight lull me.
I wasn’t alone. Around me, others dozed in their saddles, bodies slack with exhaustion but tethered to the air by the bond we shared with these magnificent beasts.
Naia’s head rested against Temil’s horns.
Riven clutched Zola’s reins loosely, red hair tangled by wind and sleep.
Even Jax looked half-conscious, Koddos holding steady beneath him.
The sun hadn’t yet peeked over the horizon when we finally landed, a soft thump of wings and claws as the dragons touched down in formation.
Kaelith lowered herself to the ground and huffed as I slid from the saddle.
She turned her head to nudge me gently, and I reached up to touch her snout before unfastening the last strap.
One by one, the dragons cast off their burdens and took to the air again, silent, graceful shadows against the pale predawn sky. Hein flew beside Kaelith, his silver body close enough that their scales brushed. The others followed in their wake, rising toward the unseen boundary of the Dragon Isle.
Sleep well, I whispered into the bond.
But Kaelith didn’t answer.
My chest tightened as I watched her wings vanish into the mist.
Zander turned to the squad. “Get some sleep while our dragon’s hunt. One hour. That’s all you get.”
He looked at me, then at Remy. “We’re heading to the castle vault to retrieve the rest of the fae maps.”
Remy nodded without looking my way. I watched them go, boots crunching against stone, their long shadows disappearing between buildings as the sky lightened to gray.
We returned to the barracks silently.
We’d barely stripped off our armor and collapsed onto the barracks cots before Riven was shaking my shoulder. Her red hair was loose around her face, cheeks flushed from sleep.
“They’re back,” she whispered. “Remy and Zander.”
I groaned but sat up, rubbing my eyes before slipping on my boots and following her to the common room.
The map was already spread across the long table, parchment edges curling like they had a life of their own.
Zander stood with his arms crossed, eyes shadowed, while Remy leaned over the table, one hand braced on the wood, the other pointing at a spot near the map’s corner.
Cordelle sat on the edge of the bench beside him, blinking hard like he was trying to focus through exhaustion.
“You can read this?” Cordy asked, his voice still rough from sleep.
Remy nodded once, fingers brushing lightly over the glowing script. “The fae are tricky. They layer their maps with information. It’s not just one set of directions… it’s several, one on top of the other. Different timelines, different routes depending on the magic you can access.”
He tapped a portion near the bottom corner, where silvery ink bled through gold-etched symbols.
Cordelle leaned closer. “How do you separate the layers so you can read it?”
“It works the same way as when I Phantom Step,” Remy said. “It’s about manipulating space, not just around you, but within the object. The fae don’t think linearly. They collapse space, time, memory, and then stack it.”
Cordelle frowned. “I still don’t get how compacting distance works on paper.”
Remy’s eyes darted to him. “Because you’re thinking in terms of two dimensions. You don’t just collapse the distance. You reverse the process when reading to elongate the layers instead of shortening them. It’s like peeling back the folds of a letter written in shadow.”
I stepped forward, folding my arms. That’s why he needed to be part of this. “So the fae that created this map... they had your power.”
Remy nodded, gaze unreadable. “Or something like it. Wraith’s Caress wasn’t that rare in the full-blooded fae. I’m just the first halfling to have it in hundreds of years.”
Zander finally spoke. “That’s what we’re up against. Whatever the Blood Fae left behind on the isle… they never intended it to be easy to find. We’ll need a lot more than a map to survive it.”
“Good thing we’re not easily killed,” Riven muttered, dragging her fingers through her hair as she sat down next to Ferrula.
I glanced at the map again. The script shimmered beneath Remy’s fingers. And it’s a good thing we have someone who can read the damn thing.
Zander leaned in, his fingertips bracing the edge of the table. “What does the map say, exactly?”
Remy didn’t look up, still tracking lines of overlapping script that glimmered beneath his hand.
“There’s a vault,” he said. “Hidden in the Fae Sanctuary. It’s protected and tied to bloodline and intention.
We’ll have to find the Light Fae once we breach the wards.
They’re the only ones who can grant access. ”
“A vault?” Naia echoed, her voice tight. “What’s inside?”
Remy glanced up, eyes darker than usual. “Something we need. The instructions aren’t clear, but whatever it is, there’s a test involved. A trial.”
“Of course there is,” Ferrula muttered, folding her arms.
I stared at the map, my chest tight. “How do we find the sanctuary once we’re through the Blood Isle’s wards?”
Remy turned to Zander, then to both of us. “That’s where you and Ashe come in. Darklight and Stormlight must combine to point the way.”
I blinked. “Dark Fire, you mean?”
“Zander’s magic,” he said, nodding at Zander. “Born of shadow, tinged with fae influence.”
“And Stormlight?” I asked.
Zander glanced at me, lips quirking. “Lightning, if I had to guess.”
“How do we combine our power?” I asked warily, still remembering the chaos from the last trial.
“No different than you did during the last trial,” Zander said.
“That didn’t go so well,” I reminded him, deadpan.
He just shrugged. “We’ll do better.”
Remy snorted, a distinct grunt of disbelief. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Zander studied him, then inclined his head. “Thank you for interpreting the map. I know you normally only do it for my father.”
Remy finally looked away from the parchment. “You’ll owe me one day, Your Grace.” His tone was light, but the undercurrent was anything but.
Zander held his gaze, something unreadable passing between them, before he nodded once. “Noted.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from commenting. This was going to be a long trip.
I leaned over the table, the map spread beneath my fingertips, its lines etched in magic older than anything I’d ever touched. “This map… it was created before the Fae Isle fell, right?”
“Yes,” Remy confirmed without looking up, his fingers ghosting over the layered script. “Long before.”
“Then why did they have a Fae Sanctuary?” My voice was wary. “There were no Blood Fae then, right?”
Remy’s brow furrowed slightly as he ran his hand over the lower left edge of the parchment.
The script shimmered and shifted beneath his touch.
“The sanctuary wasn’t created for the fae.
Not at first.” He tapped a small crescent mark near the southern cliffs.
“It was designed to house injured animals—creatures the fae protected. Winged species, mostly.”
“As in… dragons?” Jax asked from behind me.
“If needed, yes,” Remy replied. “But also birds, a type of deer with skin like bark, and others, the records don’t even name. Things no human has ever seen.”
Cordelle leaned in, blinking. “Why would the fae need to trap anything with wings?”
“They weren’t trapping them,” Remy said. “They were healing them. The sanctuary was a sealed pocket of land, hidden under layered wards to keep the creatures safe until they could return to the wild. It was never a prison.”
I traced a curving line that ran through what looked like a carved valley. “And when their own people turned dark… it became their sanctuary too.”
Remy nodded, his eyes dark with thought. “The Light Fae needed somewhere protected. And what better place than a haven designed to heal the wounded?”
Wounded magic, I thought. Wounded people. Wounded dragons.
The Blood Isle hadn’t always been cursed. It had once been a sanctuary.
And now… it might be the only place left to save us all.