Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I slipped the leather strap over my head, after placing the vial beneath my armor. The subtle hum of power against my skin made my breath hitch. Whatever this was… it was more than just a cure.
“What does this open?” I asked, fingers brushing the key as it pulsed softly, like it recognized me.
The elder’s expression didn’t change, but the ancient depth in his eyes seemed to glimmer with secrets. “You must find your own path from here,” he said calmly. “I have given you everything you need.”
“But the vial—” I started, heart skipping.
He lifted one gnarled hand. The gesture silenced me instantly.
“The information you seek,” he said, “is in the castle archives. Buried beneath layers of dust and misdirection. The truth, as it always is, waits for those willing to see beyond the surface.”
I touched the key again.
“But what do I do with this?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper now, like the answer might break something if spoken too loudly.
The elder’s smile was mysterious. “You unlock the future.”
My breath caught. “What about the Virelith Crystal?”
He motioned to the key. “You already possess it. Its power infuses the key.”
My fingertips caressed the purple crystal affixed to the key before Zander stepped beside me, his body tense, as if he were ready to take the world apart piece by piece just to protect me. He looked at the elder, then at me.
He was confused, but I was starting to understand something.
The door wasn’t physical. The cure, the key, the trial—it was all part of something bigger. A puzzle. One only I could solve.
“I guess it’s time to return to the castle,” I said aloud.
“To the lies,” Zander murmured.
“To the truth hidden among them,” I corrected.
And together, we turned from the hall, the key to our future burning against my heart.
We found our dragons lounging like spoiled nobles on the beach, half-buried in warm sand with bones of the sea-beast scattered like forgotten treasures.
Katama flicked his tail lazily, while Hein and Kaelith had curled close together, their wings draped protectively like sheltering canopies.
None of them looked particularly eager to move.
“Kaelith,” I called softly, and her head lifted slowly, violet eyes glowing with quiet defiance.
I know, she said, the thought brushing against me like the edge of a storm. But I do like it here. It feels like the… home I forgot.
I placed a hand on her scaled shoulder, the heat of her power pulsed beneath my palm. “I feel that too,” I whispered. “But we have a war to fight.”
She huffed and rose, her twin tails dragging furrows in the sand as she stretched her wings. Hein stood beside her in silent solidarity, and soon the others followed.
Dormeal waited at the edge of the path, his expression unreadable. I nodded to him in thanks.
As we started the climb back toward the ledge where we’d first landed, Riven sidled up beside me and bumped my shoulder. “So… a princess, huh?”
I blinked, the words sinking like stones in my stomach. I’d almost forgotten. The revelation of my bloodline, of who my grandfather was, had been swept away by the weight of the sanctuary, the trial, the key.
“Yeah,” I said, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m still trying to process that myself.”
Her gaze didn’t falter. “You don’t have to explain, Ashe. But… Blood throne or not, you’re ours.”
My throat tightened. “Thanks. But maybe let’s keep the whole ‘princess of the enemy’ thing within the squad?”
“Agreed,” Riven said instantly, and behind her, the others nodded as if it had never been a question.
I looked around at them. Tae, smirking with that glint of mischief in his eyes, Remy with his eyes on me, Ferrula and Jax walking side by side like they’d always belonged that way.
Family. Not by blood. But by fire.
By bond.
Dormeal led us through the winding paths of the sanctuary, his long robes trailing like mist behind him.
The grove shimmered behind us, soft grass, light-dappled trees, and the memory of power still pulsing faintly beneath our skin.
None of us spoke, the weight of what we carried, literal and otherwise, settling heavily in our silence.
He stopped at the place where we had first entered, where the tunnel had split the stone and reality had unraveled into something else entirely.
Dormeal turned to face us, eyes catching the morning light like glass. “The sanctuary has accepted you. That does not mean the world will.”
Then he lifted his hand and whispered something in a tongue older than the wind. The air bent around his words. The veil shimmered—first silver, then violet—and parted soundlessly down the center like a ripple on still water.
“You will take the tunnel back,” he said, voice softer now. “But it will not affect you. The dreamscape recognizes your magic.”
I nodded once. “Thank you, Dormeal. For everything.”
He inclined his head in a motion so regal, it made me wonder again just how old he was.
We stepped into the rift.
The moment our boots crossed the threshold, the world folded. Light spiraled. The tunnel warped around us, but this time, there was no pressure, no hallucination, no pull. Just a pulse of light and the feeling of wind in my hair.
And then we were there.
The monolith loomed beside us once more, silent and unmoving, the stones underfoot cool and real.
Behind us, the barrier whispered closed with a muted chime, like distant windchimes caught on a salt breeze.
We had made it out.
And now, the real journey would begin.
The wind from the ocean greeted us as we stepped onto the black sand, the roar of waves crashing against the jagged shoreline pulling us back into the world we’d left behind. Luthias and Teren were already moving toward us, the tension clear in the set of their shoulders.
“You couldn’t find the opening?” Luthias asked, glancing past us at the solid cliffside where the tunnel entrance had been.
Zander and I exchanged a look, something wordless passing between us before he turned back. “How long were we gone?” he asked, tone carefully neutral.
Teren frowned. “A minute. Maybe two.”
I blinked. “We spent the night in the fae sanctuary.”
“What?” Teren asked, stunned.
I nodded and quickly explained. Dormeal, the elder council, the trial, the vial now tucked beneath my armor, and the key strung around my neck. Teren just stared, then exhaled, as if the weight of it all had struck him too hard and too fast.
“That place bends time,” Zander said, brushing sand from his gloves. “We didn’t dream it.”
Remy stepped up behind us, his voice low. “We shouldn’t linger here.”
For once, we all agreed. No argument. No debate.
One by one, we mounted our dragons. Kaelith’s wings shimmered as she unfurled them, the sky above her soft with light from the rising sun. Hein was already airborne, circling once before dipping down as if urging us to follow.
As soon as we land, I want to head to the castle archives, Zander’s voice slipped into my mind, calm but with a thread of urgency.
Do you want to come?
Yes, I responded. But we should bring Cordelle too.
Agreed, he said, and I could feel the approval in his tone.
The dragons rose in unison, the sky cracking with their ascent. Behind us, the Blood Isle disappeared into mist, and ahead, the war waited for our next move.