Chapter Nineteen
Hadrian rather enjoys explaining the difference between dragons and wyverns to me.
In truth, I’ve never seen much of one myself.
He tells me that one of the primary distinctions lies in their size.
Wyverns, it seems, are far larger than dragons, especially the females, who tower over their male counterparts with impressive, awe-striking stature.
Dragons, on the other hand, follow the opposite rule.
The males are the larger of the two, their size dominant, their presence meant to command.
Curious, how fitting it all feels when seen through the lens of their lands. I can’t quite imagine drakonians taking kindly to the idea of female dragons outgrowing the males.
They’d likely have an absolute fit.
Tabitha Wysteria
‘We should be close,’ Kai said, lifting his gaze to the yellow-blue stretch of sky above.
For days now, they had followed the dragon's winding path, a dark silhouette against the heavens, until it became clear the creature was bound for Kairus.
At some point they had lost sight of it, but not the destination.
‘You ought to glamour yourself,’ he said curtly, eyes scanning the barren stretch ahead.
‘There’s no one here,’ Dawn replied, arms folded, her voice edged with defiance. ‘I’ll do it when we’re closer.’
‘It’s too risky.’
‘Well, I honestly don’t care.’
Kai stepped forward, the tension rippling through his frame as his hands clenched into fists. ‘Must you make everything so bloody difficult?’
‘Why?’ She cocked her head with mock sweetness, her purple eyes sparking with irritation. ‘Because you’re used to people doing your bidding? The moment someone refuses, you stamp your feet like a spoilt prince?’
‘I’m not the one throwing a tantrum.’
Dawn barked a laugh. ‘I’m not going to do it just because you told me to.’
‘Fine.’
‘Fine.’
He turned on his heel, stalking off with purpose, though the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips when he heard her hiss a curse behind him.
‘Something wrong?’ he called over his shoulder, smug.
‘It’s going to take a few hours to construct a new face,’ she grumbled. ‘Stop looking at me like that. Can you alter your entire appearance at will? No? Didn’t think so.’
Kai chuckled. ‘And ruin this face? Unthinkable. The ladies would weep.’
She scoffed. ‘Which ladies? The imaginary ones in your deluded little mind?’
‘Careful, witch,’ he said, glancing back at her with a grin. ‘That tone of yours sounds suspiciously like jealousy.’
Kai let out a low whistle, and from the shifting sands, his horse emerged as though conjured from smoke and memory.
He caught the soft gasp that escaped Dawn’s lips, still startled by the creature’s uncanny ability to vanish and reappear at will.
He didn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth; there was something endearing about her wonder at things he had long since taken for granted.
‘Let’s ride,’ he said, motioning towards the horse. ‘You’ll find it easier to work your magic if you’re seated.’
Before she could summon a retort, he placed his hands firmly on her waist and hoisted her up with effortless strength. She scowled down at him, but he ignored the fire in her eyes and stepped away, walking beside the horse with a measured pace.
‘Aren’t you getting on?’ she asked, brows furrowed in suspicion.
‘I feel like walking,’ he replied, keeping his focus ahead. ‘Besides, you’ll have more space up there, more comfort to focus.’
Dawn narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. ‘Why are you being nice?’
‘I’m always nice.’
She snorted. ‘Yes, an absolute fucking delight, you are.’ With a wicked grin, she swung her foot and managed to land a playful kick against his arm. ‘Oh dear, must’ve been a twitch. Foot spasm or something.’
He cast her a look that could curdle milk. ‘Would you like to walk the rest of the way?’
Dawn lifted her hands in mock surrender. ‘I’ll behave. I swear it.’
‘I’ve heard that one before...’ he muttered under his breath.
‘What was that?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Thought so.’
For the next few hours, they moved in companionable silence, wrapped in a rare cocoon of peace.
Kai found his gaze drifting, time and again, to where Dawn worked intently on her glamour.
Her concentration was unwavering, her fingers aglow with soft green light as they danced before her like a sculptor conjuring a masterpiece from the very air itself.
‘Am I so breathtaking that you simply cannot look away, commander?’ she asked, her eyes never leaving the shifting shapes before her.
‘How does it work?’ he asked, deliberately ignoring her barbed teasing.
Dawn dismounted with a fluid movement. ‘I need to stretch my legs,’ she said, her tone light. She fell into step beside him, and with a flick of his wrist, Kai dismissed the horse into mist and shadow.
He watched her hands work, fascinated despite himself. Beneath the dappled sunlight filtering through the high clouds, he could just make out the faint outline of a mask taking form, an ethereal visage hovering like spun glass in the space before her.
‘We have to craft the face,’ she explained, her tone unusually gentle, the green magic weaving patterns in the air.
‘Bodies are simple. They take almost no time at all. But faces… faces are intimate. Faces are stories. Every one is different, every detail unique. We memorise the ones we create. Once the magic accepts a face, it becomes part of us. We can wear it again and again. But a new one…’ She exhaled softly. ‘That takes time.’
The mask hovered, then glided towards her, settling over her features like a second skin.
The transformation was not yet complete—half her face still belonged to Dawn, warm-brown and sharp-eyed, that familiar glint of mischief in her lone purple iris.
But the other half had shifted: now a wyverian countenance stared back, pale as moonlight, with obsidian eyes that revealed nothing.
‘How is it looking?’ she asked, her tone casual, though a shade of expectation lingered in her eyes.
Kai tilted his head, scrutinising the half-finished glamour. ‘Mildly terrifying,’ he replied dryly.
Dawn rolled her eyes and dispelled the illusion with a flick of her fingers. ‘Give me a few more hours.’
‘Good. We’re not far now.’ He turned away, jaw tightening for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. ‘Why are you making a new face?’ he asked, his tone quiet but curious. ‘You glamoured yourself as a wyverian when we first met at my camp, can’t you just use that one again?’
Dawn paused, her hands stilled mid-air. ‘Oh… yes. I must have forgotten.’ She offered a casual shrug, then continued walking as though it meant nothing. ‘Well, too late now. I might as well carry on with this one.’
Kai’s dark eyes narrowed, sharp as blades. He knew she was lying, could feel the falsehood slip from her tongue like smoke. But he said nothing.
Because deep down, he suspected the truth. She had done it deliberately. She needed the hours, the quiet stretch of time, to prepare herself not just physically, but emotionally. To build a new mask was not merely a task of magic, but one of grief.
Dawn feared hiding her true face. Whatever had happened to her had carved scars far beneath the skin, wounds Kai now saw, not with his eyes, but with his heart.
So he would not press her. He would let her shape her illusion, piece by piece, and mourn what it meant to wear the features of another. Let her make her face. Let her steel her heart.
‘So this was your grand strategy, was it? Find the dragons, bring them back, and turn Hagan into ash. What do you expect us to do once we reach Kairus?’
‘That rather depends,’ she said, inspecting her nails.
‘On what?’
‘On whether the dragons are still there,’ she replied evenly. ‘They may have flown further south by now, to the Desert Kingdom. If so, we’ve a much longer road ahead of us.’
‘Then we may as well rest while we can.’ Kai made his way to a collection of sun-bleached rocks and chose one tall enough to cast shade, its shadow a welcome relief from the punishing glare of the sky.
‘Why are you helping me?’ she asked softly, her voice touched with something fragile. Worry, perhaps.
Kai said nothing. Instead, he unsheathed his swords, resting them against the boulder before sitting down, the stone’s heat seeping through the leather of his trousers.
He watched her silently as she conjured shawls for them both—white, gauzy things that shimmered faintly with magic.
Then she knelt before him, her movements sure, and gently draped one over his head.
Her fingers adjusted the fabric with surprising care around his black twisted horns.
He ignored the way his muscles coiled as she leaned closer. Ignored the way her amethyst eyes shifted to his mouth, and the unfamiliar thought that crossed his mind, wondering what she might taste like.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, voice low, her hand resting now against his chest. He couldn’t remember when it had landed there.
‘Yes, you do,’ she whispered, barely audible. And then she moved away, her touch vanishing with her. Kai frowned, unsettled by his own reaction. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. She was a mission. A necessity. Nothing more.
‘We both want the same thing, commander,’ she said without looking back. ‘To stop Hagan.’
Kai gave a silent nod.
He would let her believe that was his truth. And in part, it was, of course it was. He wanted Hagan dead. But that wasn’t the reason he stood by her side.
He helped her because he knew Dawn was keeping secrets, half-truths and silences that made trust impossible. But more than that, deeper than suspicion, was the quiet, gnawing reason he could not speak aloud: the thought of returning to his army turned his blood to ice.
How could he face them?
He had failed them all. He had let their future queen die. He had harboured a witch within the camp, hidden from every watchful eye, and allowed himself to be led astray, spirited away like a fool.