Chapter Thirty-Five #2
They climbed a winding staircase carved straight from the mountain’s heart, the stone steps worn smooth by centuries of passing feet.
Floor by floor they climbed, hurrying through a narrow corridor before slipping out through a door and scaling a final flight of stairs that clung to the mountain’s side.
Dawn gasped the moment they emerged at the summit.
Sunlight struck her full in the face, bright and unrelenting, forcing her to squint, yet she smiled all the same.
Air. Real air. Freedom unfurled in her chest as she drank it in.
The rooftop bustled with life: tents pitched in careful clusters, desert folk moving with purpose, hands busy with work both mundane and vital.
It was a place of vigilance and survival, alive in a way the caverns below could never be.
She drifted towards the edge and peered down with care. Far below, the dragons and Mareena’s phoenix waited, vast shapes resting against the sand and stone, patient and watchful as they lingered for their return. A quiet unease tugged at her thoughts.
What if Alina never came back?
Dawn wondered whether the dragons would wait forever or whether, without their fire princess, they would simply lift into the sky and vanish, leaving only scorched sand and unanswered questions behind.
The moment Kai came to stand beside her, Dawn exhaled sharply.
‘We’re wasting time,’ she said. ‘We need to return. Only the gods know what havoc has already been unleashed back home.’
‘We need those dragons,’ Kai replied.
‘I know.’ Dawn dragged a hand down her face. ‘But Alina refuses to see the urgency. She’ll keep us stranded in this cursed kingdom until she decides the moment is right, and who knows when that will be.’
Kai glanced at her. ‘And what do you suggest we do?’
‘We steal them.’ Dawn didn’t turn to face him, but she heard the faint, involuntary gasp he failed to suppress.
‘Those dragons won’t leave without Alina.’
‘Then we kidnap her.’
‘I don’t think—’
Dawn twisted towards him, her eyes sharp. ‘Are you not worried about your army? About what the world might look like now, without us?’
‘Of course I’m worried,’ Kai snapped. ‘But if we leave now, everything we’ve done here will have been for nothing.’
‘Then we take Alina by force,’ Dawn pressed. ‘Throw her onto the back of a dragon and fly home.’
‘That won’t happen.’
‘Why not?’
‘Mareena.’
Dawn let out a slow, exhausted breath. ‘Then perhaps we ought to kill her.’
Kai turned fully to her, disbelief etched across his face. ‘Pardon?’
Dawn shrugged, cold and unflinching. ‘Don’t pretend they wouldn’t do the same if our roles were reversed.’
‘Just because they would cross that line doesn’t give us the right to,’ Kai shot back. ‘We don’t get to excuse ourselves with their cruelty.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’ Dawn folded her arms across her chest, frustration tightening her posture.
Kai rubbed at his eyes and sighed, glancing back towards the endless horizon. ‘We wait. And besides, I promised Alina I would help her. I keep my promises, Dawn.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Is that the only reason?’
Kai frowned, turning back to her. ‘What other reason could there be?’
Dawn tried to swallow the knot lodged in her throat. She did not want to give it words. Insecurities were dangerous once spoken aloud. They took shape, became real. And yet, she had to say it. Because what if it was true? Why wouldn’t it be?
‘You still care for her,’ she whispered.
She waited for laughter, for him to scoff and dismiss the thought as absurd.
But he didn’t. He only frowned, his attention fixed on the horizon, turning her words over in his mind as if they carried weight.
Dawn bit her lip and followed his stare, letting her eyes drift across the desert and its endless secrets.
She wished it would open up and swallow her whole.
She hated how small her voice had sounded. How fragile.
She felt like a child again, waiting for a mother who never came back, who had loved vengeance more than her own daughter.
Like a foolish girl who had once believed the Fire Prince might love her enough to forgive her lies.
Like an afterthought to siblings who had never chosen her first.
She felt ridiculous for ever believing someone might.
That someone might love her.
Choose her.
Of course they wouldn’t.
Dawn was something vile, something wrong. Never meant to be cherished. She existed to be useful, to serve, to follow and to give always more than she ever received. She would always place others first, always bend, always sacrifice. And no one, no one, would ever do the same for her.
Perhaps she needed to learn to shut the world out. To turn inward. To love herself and expect nothing from anyone else. To stop searching for warmth in places that had never offered it.
But gods, how hard that was.
She wanted to be loved. To be chosen. To be held and kept. She wanted, just once, to matter.
To be someone’s moon and stars.
Before Kai could say the words she already knew were coming, she turned and walked away. Her heart fractured again, splitting along old, familiar cracks.
It was her own fault, for daring to believe that Kai Blackburn might have seen something in her.
He hadn’t.
He was only using her.
Just like everyone else.