Chapter 33
Chapter
Thirty-Three
FINLEY
Guilt and expectation rose inside me.
Even with the sick, the dragons had always made their cave feel alive. Now it felt like stepping into a tomb.
The sounds that echoed off the stone walls were sorrowful and fragile. A grief-stricken sound born from wounds too deep to be mended. The scent of smoke clung to the walls, but beneath it all was the heavier weight of grief.
Kassidy stood by the barely moving cluster of dragas, arms wound tight across her chest. Her eyes only hardened when she saw me.
She didn’t have to say it. I heard it in the way she breathed. Even more died when I wasn’t here.
Willow waited, her binding magic pulsing faintly. She wouldn’t lead this time but would stand guard. To be a wall if Zaicha came again.
Or at least that was our hope.
Brenton was at my side. Always a step away.
His hand brushed mine, reassuring me in that steady way of his, before falling away to give me space to work.
I knelt beside the first dragon, a youngling whose scales were dulled from illness. Desperate to help, my magic fluttered against my palm. I let it flow. Slow and careful. I weaved it through shallow breaths, around stuttering heartbeats as Brenton guarded through our bond.
When the youngling lifted his head, he let out a small keening noise that settled around the confines of my ribs. I was healing him and making this little one feel better.
One by one, my magic touched the dragas, the younglings, the hatchlings. Easing minor wounds that should’ve healed on their own weeks ago. Stripping away the magic that pulled them closer to death. Willow’s power hummed quietly in the background, like a safety net ready to catch me should I falter.
But it didn’t take away the sting of grief that lingered over the male dragons my magic had killed over a week ago.
The further I reached into myself, trying to rectify something that couldn’t be righted, the more my magic stretched thin. My pulse thudded hard in my throat while my head throbbed with a pending headache.
“Lolli,” Brenton said.
“I can do more.” My words trembled, but I pushed harder.
“Finley,” Willow warned.
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I owed them this.
And that was when Zaicha struck.
She yanked in the pit of my magic. A cold wave washed through me.
The cave seemed to tilt sideways. A dark shadow crept at the edges of my vision as her magic coiled around mine. Inside mine. It flooded through me fast, and I couldn’t make out which was my magic and which was hers. I choked on my own breath.
Brenton was at my side, holding my waist while his magic surged and wrapped around mine. Where I could no longer sense her magic, he could and worked fast to contain her.
But Zaicha was faster, stronger.
The dragons roared, their wings thrashing, and their scales scraping against the stone. Younglings cried out, the hatchlings in their eggs curling their tiny bodies tight. Still, Zaicha’s pull ripped through the cave.
I tried to stop it, but my magic wasn’t mine anymore.
Inside their eggs, two hatchlings went limp. Just like that. Snuffed out before they even had a chance to live.
I screamed, but it came out as a broken sob.
Brenton’s magic slammed through the bond, smoke and death, and that otherness he told me about. He caught the surge and held it in a vise-like grip. The walls shook with the force, dust and gravel breaking loose from the ceiling.
Then I could feel it. Zaicha’s magic tangled with mine. Brenton had pulled it close, and it thrummed beneath our joined magic.
It wasn’t only mine anymore. It was hers.
I could burn it out.
The thought hit me. If I forced enough power through, I could burn out Zaicha’s power. I could end it.
A flash of memory seared my mind of fae who’d pushed too far. Their magic flared bright, then went out forever. Not just dimming, but gone.
I pulled at that current anyway. Pushed it hard enough that pain skirted down my spine.
“Finley.” The sharpness in Brenton’s tone ripped through the haze, hushed but dangerous.
I ignored it.
Magic built like a storm. My veins burned. My vision blurred. If I pushed a little more. If I just—
Brenton roared.
His magic slammed into mine, ripping me back from the brink. My head snapped back as air punched in my lungs, the burning in my veins fading.
Zaicha’s magic recoiled, returning to a darkness I couldn’t follow.
For a few beats, neither of us moved. Then his hand locked around my arm. Not rough, but they were shaking.
“Do not ever—ever—make that choice for me,” Brenton hissed.
His eyes were black and wide. Not with fury but fear.
“Our magic is bound,” he said through clenched teeth. “If you burn out, I burn out.”
His grip loosened, but he didn’t release me yet.
Tears stung my eyes. “I wasn’t trying to—”
“Yes, you were.” His voice came out as a raw rasp. “And you didn’t care what it would do to me. You don’t get to decide I live without my magic.”
I froze.
He let me go but looked at me like I’d tilted the world beneath his feet.
“All this time, I’ve given you space to choose.” His jaw flexed. “Your body. Your power. Your fate.” His voice faltered before hardening again. “But you didn’t give me the same.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
He searched my face. Waiting. But the ringing in my ears and the still bodies around us swallowed any words before they could form.
“I love you,” he said, strained. “But I cannot stand beside you when you treat me like I’m yours to spend. I’d give my life as I am, not live half of one because you chose it for me.”
With a shake of his head, he turned on his heel and walked away.
The cave fell silent aside from my ragged breathing. With a final, disappointed look in my direction, Hoshiko followed Brenton.
I stared at the two hatchlings. At the dulled eggs that carried tiny bodies that would never move again.
My chest felt like it was splitting in two.
Outside the cave, humans shouted, and I followed them out with Everly beside me, a quiet but supportive hand on my back. A young dragon, maybe a hundred years of age, lay thrashing near the mouth of the cave with blood pooling beneath a shattered limb. Her cries ripped through the thick air.
Kassidy raced toward her, dropping to her knees beside Callan.
“We have to put her down, Kass,” he said, his tone gentle and dagger already unsheathed.
Grief washed over her face, and she swept a tear aside before she nodded. She cradled the young dragon’s face in her hands, whispering soothing words as if comfort might hide what came next.
“Wait,” I whispered, voice hoarse. I spoke louder, clearer. “Wait. Let me see if I can help her.”
Sorrow echoed across Willow’s expression, and she shook her head. “Her limb is beyond repair. Killing her is the only mercy we can offer her.”
The small dragon lifted her head weakly. Her pain was unmistakable, but in those bright blue eyes, hope burned. Fierce and wild. I touched her face, trailing my hand across the smooth scales.
“Can I at least try?” I asked Kassidy.
The dragon dug her face against my palm, the same way I’d seen dragons do to their riders. Emotions caught in my throat, and I coughed to clear it.
Kassidy’s jaw tightened. “You can’t regrow limbs,” she bit out. “She isn’t a pet. Dragons are bred and trained for war. She’s a liability.”
I flinched. Not because her words didn’t ring true—they did—but it wasn’t enough.
Before I could reply, Everly’s boots crunched on the stone beside me. She unsheathed her sword in that quiet, dangerous way of hers and stepped in front of me.
“You cannot stop her from trying,” Everly said.
Callan hesitated. Kassidy didn’t. She drew her own blade.
“She’s still breathing,” I said, desperation making my words come out too loud. “She still has a chance.”
Kassidy moved first, and I drew my sword before I realized what I was doing. Our swords clashed in a sharp ring. She was fast and strong, but I was a fae warrior.
I parried, pivoted. Struck, blocked.
She grabbed a fistful of my hair and wrapped it around her arm, locking me in place. Pain erupted in my scalp.
Her breath was sharp at my ear. “You’re wasting your magic.”
I raised my sword with my free hand and sliced through my hair.
The strands fell, and I didn’t hesitate. I twisted and slammed my shoulder into her chest, driving her into the ground. I pressed my blade to the side of her neck.
“I will tend to this dragon,” I said.
Callan and the others moved in, encircling Everly and me, their weapons raised. Their number dwarfed the two of us. Willow’s binding magic hummed behind them, but she didn’t intervene.
Everly’s blade gleamed at my back, a silent vow that she’d bleed beside me if it came to that.
Kassidy exhaled sharply through her nose, then shoved the tip of my blade away. Blood swelled on her palm where the edge had cut into her. “Fine,” she said. “If you want to waste your magic, please continue to do so while those who actually need it suffer.”
The others backed off. Slowly, reluctantly, they all returned to the square and away from the dragons. Only a few dragons remained at our side.
I dropped to my knees beside the young dragon whose breath came in shuddering bursts. Her limb was mangled, but her heart was strong, so I pressed my palm to her side and let my magic flow.
Warmth rippled through me, not the firestorm Zaicha twisted earlier, but something tired but unrelenting.
Zaicha’s attack had nearly drained me, but I pulled from my reserves, determined to make one thing right.
A thread of light thrummed as I tried to stitch what had been torn apart.
I didn’t fix what couldn’t be fixed, but I sealed the wounds, eased the pain, and renewed what could be so that she may live.
She breathed deeper, her brightening eyes finding me.
A soft pull echoed in my chest, like threads weaving together. Binding us. A bond snapped in place. Warm and electric and vibrant. She . . . she chose me.
She was mine. Gods.
And for one brief, precious moment, I felt joy. A dragon had chosen me.
I traced my fingers over her face.
“Do you have a name?” I asked her.
She blinked. “A dragon isn’t given a name until we complete training.”
“May I give you one, then?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Ashara.” I smiled, savoring the weight of the word from our traditional tongue. “It means reborn from the ashes. Just like you.”
Everly knelt beside me, placing a hand on the dragon’s shoulders. “Ashara is a good name.”
I looked at Everly, at the female who’d stood at my side only moments ago. “Thank you.”
“I told you we’d be friends.” She smiled, knocking her shoulder against mine.
Unfortunately, the quiet didn’t last.
“Finley!” Willow’s voice called out, sharp with urgency.
“What could possibly be wrong now?” Everly asked through a heavy sigh.
Willow stumbled up the hill, breathless and eyes wide. “There’s a child in the village. Zaicha, we think—”
I lingered for only a beat, pressing my palm against Ashara. When I pushed myself to my feet, Ashara stood with me, an older dragon keeping her steady when she stumbled. I gave myself a couple of beats to nuzzle my face against her before I turned to Willow.
“I’ll wait for you by your tent,” Ashara said
“Take me to them,” I said.
And then I ran.