Chapter Thirty-Five
It doesn’t matter what anyone says. No one will ever truly understand what it means to have purple eyes.
To be hated for something you were born with, something you cannot change no matter how hard you try.
To be met with fear, with loathing, with suspicion long before a single word has left your lips.
Once, it used to make me cry.
But they shattered me one time too many.
Now… now I relish the way their bodies stiffen, the way their gazes shine with dread the moment they catch sight of my eyes. I laugh when they hurl their venomous words. I let their hatred nourish me.
A monster is what they want?
Then a monster they shall have.
Tabitha Wysteria
Dawn had no way of knowing how much time had passed, only that the silence had become a cruel companion.
But she was certain of two things: first, that she had lost consciousness for most of it, and second that her leg was broken.
The pain was so all-consuming, so sharp and ceaseless, that every breath she took felt stolen.
She had plummeted from a considerable height, enough to have snapped her neck clean through. Fortune, or perhaps misfortune, had spared her that fate. Her leg, however, had not been so lucky.
Hissing through gritted teeth, she forced herself upright and surveyed her surroundings.
She was underground in what seemed to be some forgotten cavern, the only light coming from the moon’s pale fingers reaching through the jagged hole above.
The view offered little comfort: sand, stone, shadow and nothing more.
She looked down at her leg and winced. It was bent at an unnatural angle, grotesque and wrong.
Healing it was out of the question. Witch magic didn’t function that way.
Only a rare few were ever taught the art of mending flesh and bone, and Dawn was not among them.
The rest of their kind were left to bleed and suffer, dependent on the presence, or mercy, of a healer.
It had always struck her as absurd. Why forbid the knowledge of healing under witch-law? Yes, it could be abused, twisted into something dark, but what magic couldn’t? Should all suffer for the potential sins of a few?
With a pained breath, Dawn raised her hand and summoned green flame into her palm.
It bloomed brightly, warm against the coldness of the cave.
She cast it upwards, where it floated, flickering like a captive star.
The new light revealed more of the chamber.
More empty rock, more sand, more hopelessness.
She considered using her magic to escape, to whisk herself away from this hole in the earth. But the pain was a weight on her shoulders, dragging her down. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to summon anything powerful enough.
And wasn’t that the bitterest truth of all?
The world feared witches, spoke of them in hushed tones, called them monsters, weapons, curses made flesh.
But here she sat, broken and bleeding beneath the moonlight, and she had never felt so useless.
Her magic, like most witches’ was designed to destroy, not to heal.
Witchcraft was not born of creation, but of ruin. It did not soothe, it consumed.
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she tilted her face to the silver-lit hole above, the only glimpse of the world she could see.
She didn’t know how long she would remain trapped here.
Perhaps not long. But long enough to feel the weight of solitude settle over her completely.
Long enough to realise just how truly, painfully alone she was.
…
Kai had spent the better part of the night soaring across the endless dunes atop Mareena’s magnificent phoenix.
The experience was nothing short of exhilarating, though laced with a thread of quiet terror.
He was more accustomed to the steady might of wyverns, creatures of brute strength and formidable wingspans.
A phoenix, while far from small, possessed a different sort of power: swift and elegant, yes. But wild, unpredictable.
Its smaller frame allowed it to dart through the skies with dizzying speed, each sudden jolt or sharp turn a challenge to Kai’s balance. More than once he had sworn aloud as the phoenix veered unexpectedly, nearly unseating him from its back and sending his heart lurching into his throat.
Now, as dawn began to creep its golden fingers across the desert sky, worry began to carve itself into his very bones.
It gnawed at him, patient and relentless, tracing anxious lines across his mind.
What if he didn’t find her? What if she had used her magic to disappear, slipping away into shadow and silence, leaving him behind without a trace?
Wouldn’t that be easier? He’d be free of her then. No longer tethered to her secrets, her sharp tongue, her storm of emotion. She would no longer be his burden.
And yet…
He could not stomach the thought of it. Not like this. Not with so many words left unsaid, suspended in the air between them like threads waiting to be drawn together.
He didn’t know what to call this thing that gripped him so tightly whenever she crossed his thoughts. Perhaps it was admiration. Perhaps a reluctant respect. Or perhaps… it was something deeper, something he dared not name just yet.
Cursing beneath his breath, Kai steered the phoenix towards a scattering of jagged hills, their shadows stretching long across the desert sands.
They soared above the rocks in sweeping silence, but the darkness below revealed nothing.
No figure, no sign of life. Of course she wouldn’t be here.
This was ridiculous. What had he expected?
That he might stumble upon her wandering aimlessly through the dunes in the dead of night?
She was a witch. By now, she was likely halfway across the realm, vanished like smoke, lost to the wind.
With a weary sigh, Kai guided the phoenix to a craggy summit and dismounted, his boots scraping against the stone.
He sank onto the edge, legs dangling into the cool abyss below, and lifted his gaze to the sky.
The stars glittered indifferently above, and he wondered, bitterly, why the gods took such delight in toying with him.
Kaelis brushed her beak against his arm, the gesture gentle, consoling.
‘I know,’ he muttered, voice hoarse with defeat. ‘I shouldn’t give up. But… what now?’
He should return. Leave this all behind. Forget the witch with purple eyes and a tongue like fire. There was a war to prepare for. Alina to aid. Dragons to rally. An army to lead. He didn’t need Dawn, not really. Not when he didn’t even know if he could trust her.
The phoenix nudged him again, firmer this time.
‘Alright, alright, we’ll head back.’
Kaelis shoved him once more, this time so forcefully he nearly toppled forward.
‘What in the…?’
Before he could finish, Kaelis released a screech so sharp and shrill it echoed through the stone like thunder.
Then she sprang into the air, wings slicing through the wind, diving swiftly towards a narrow crevice between the hills.
Kai scrambled to his feet, following her path with narrowed eyes. And that’s when he saw it.
A portion of the ground had caved in, revealing a yawning chasm beneath, blacker than midnight. But within that abyss, flickering faint and green…
A glimmer of light.
Kai didn’t hesitate. He trusted the phoenix to catch him.
He jumped.
The air rushed past him, his heart hammering not from the fall, but from something far worse.
Fear.
Fear of what he might find buried beneath the earth.
Was she there? Trapped? Broken?
Dead?
The very notion tightened around his throat like a noose, threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.
Kai landed hard atop the phoenix’s back, and Kaelis plunged, wings folding, diving through the shattered earth into the abyss below. Down, down they went, swallowed whole by shadow.
They touched down upon stone, cold and unyielding, and Kai leapt off the phoenix without hesitation. His breath caught at the sight before him.
Across the cavernous expanse, a ghostly green orb hovered in mid-air, casting its eerie light over a figure crumpled beneath it.
Kai’s black wyverian heart stuttered in his chest.
He surged forward, every muscle taut with panic, until he dropped to his knees beside her. Dawn lay still, her form curled gently on her side. Motionless.
He gathered her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as though he might somehow shield her from the cruelty of the world. Her eyes remained closed, lashes dark against her cheeks, and it took but a glance for him to spot her leg, twisted at a grotesque angle, unmistakably broken.
‘Wake up,’ he rasped, voice frayed with dread. ‘Damn it, witch, wake up.’
But she didn’t stir.
Leaning close, he pressed his ear to her parted lips. A breath. Faint, but steady. Relief swept through him in a wave so fierce it left him trembling. Gently, he eased her back into his embrace, brushing damp strands of white hair from her brow with a touch uncharacteristically tender.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, pulling her closer, as if the very nearness of her might undo what had been done. ‘I’m so sorry. Please… come back to me.’
He closed his eyes.
And prayed.
For the first time in years, perhaps ever, Kai Blackburn uttered words not of war or command, but of desperate, unfiltered hope. He whispered to gods he no longer believed in. To fate, to destiny, to anything out there that might still show mercy.
‘I’m sorry,’ he breathed into the darkness, into her hair, into the stillness itself. ‘Please, be okay. I’m sorry.’
A pause.
Then…
‘Come again?’ The voice, hoarse but unmistakably wry, froze him in place.
His eyes snapped open to find hers already watching him, wide and shimmering with something he hadn’t expected.
Wonder.
And, gods help him, amusement.