Chapter Four
Before the Dark Finds Us
Before the dark could find them, Viktor made his vow—she would reach Sevrak alive.
Her laughter still lingered somewhere in his chest when twilight found them riding hard, the stream far behind.
The gulley fell away into a crescent-shaped archway—the mouth of Hythe’s Gap yawning black before them, wind tunneling through like a low hymn.
Hooves struck sparks from stone as the horses pressed on, shadows stretching long beneath the sinking sun.
Exhaustion dragged at Viktor’s eyes, every blink a battle. He was still fighting it when Evander jerked his reins too sharply. Amerei jolted with a startled gasp.
Viktor’s hand caught her before she slipped, fingers closing around her arm.
Heat shot through him at the feel of her—soft where everything else in his world was steel.
He steadied her until she looked back at him. Only then did he release her, slow and certain.
Evander muttered a curse and pushed his horse ahead.
Viktor ignored him.
His attention stayed on her—on the tremor in her balance, on the way her breath caught when his hand fell away.
The cavern took them, cool air rolling over Viktor’s fevered skin like winter wind.
For a few strides he let himself lean into the dark, let his body ease as the mountain’s hush wrapped around them.
But the light ahead was already dying, and he knew what waited on the far side of the archway.
He raised a hand toward the sinking sun.
“While it lasts, these peaks shield us. The sky won’t see us here. But once night falls…”
His gaze hardened.
“The dragon owns the dark.”
Evander’s grip on the reins shifted, unease flickering across his face.
He glanced from the shadows to Viktor,
uncertain if this captain spoke truth—
or fed them fear.
Viktor started his horse forward—
then froze as steel flashed.
Evander had twisted in his saddle, knife drawn, the blade leveled across the space between them.
Amerei cried out, clawing at his wrist, but Evander wrenched free, the horse beneath them sidestepping at the sudden violence.
“Who sent you?” Evander’s voice cracked sharp.
His eyes burned into Viktor’s.
“Who are you really?”
He fought to steady his horse, the reins jerking as the animal shied. He dragged it back under control, knife still flashing in his grip.
“I’ve known Storne my whole life,” he snarled, voice thick with fury. “Not once has he spoken of dragons. But you know who does?”
He leaned across the space, pressing the blade hard into Viktor’s chest.
“Zeporah. Locked in her chambers with her priests and conjurers while the rest of us watched the eclipse in ignorant awe. She stirred something up—and you expect me to believe you aren’t hers?”
He leaned toward Amerei, muttering for her ear alone, “Zeporah sent him. He’ll set a trap for us by nightfall.”
For a heartbeat, the blade wavered.
Then fury won.
With a sudden lunge, Evander hurled himself at Viktor, toppling him from the saddle.
The men crashed to the ground.
Viktor grappled him easily, strength steady as stone.
Evander thrashed, shouting for all to hear.
“Call your dragon! Try it—try to strike her if you dare!”
The knife wrenched in his grip, but Viktor ripped it free and flung it aside.
For an instant his gaze locked on Amerei—her terror catching in his chest, her wide eyes holding his as if he were the only thing keeping her from the dark.
He could have ended it with one strike—but she was watching.
His voice was gravel as he forced Evander down.
“You don’t have to trust me. But my mandate is the same as yours. We are taking Amerei to her father tonight.”
Evander scrambled back, dirt streaking his cheek.
Amerei’s voice broke the hush, steadier than her quivering hands.
“How can you speak of dragons, Captain Seraphim?”
Viktor’s chest rose and fell as he drew a shard of black stone from his pack, its edges glinting like frost.
“Zeporah sent me to spy on the Kryonites. They were drilling into the buried rivers of Oustinon—old veins that should have stayed sealed. I went farther than I should have, and I saw what came from those depths. That’s where the dragon in the forest was born. That’s what hunted us.”
Amerei’s lips parted, the question trembling out.
“Does she know? Did you tell her?”
But Viktor’s gaze had already shifted—narrowed on the trees.
His muscles locked, every sense straining.
Moments later his voice cut low.
“Down.”
This time Evander obeyed, dragging Amerei with him as they slid to the ground.
Viktor’s sling whirled.
The stone struck, cracking against fur.
A bear bawled and fled into the brush.
The woods shuddered with its retreat, leaves hissing back into stillness.
Viktor lowered the sling, his eyes cold and unyielding.
No patience left.
“We’re leaving. Now.”
Before Evander could speak, Viktor cut him off.
“Mount up.”
They rode north, the gulley giving way to the first scattered lines of Elváliev’s redwoods. Towering trunks stretched into dusk, and above them swayed homes built high among the branches—rope bridges strung from bough to bough. Lanterns flickered in the canopy, soft as starlight.
They halted at a well where an elven family drew water. Buckets were lowered for the horses, steam curling from their breaths in the cooling air.
Children crowded near, wide-eyed at the strangers. One pressed a sprig of silverleaf into Amerei’s palm, a shy blessing for safe passage.
She smiled, her voice gentle as she told them, “This one is called Alabaster,” nodding toward Evander’s pale mount.
Viktor pressed for haste, but when the children turned to him expectantly, he caught Amerei’s look—and relented.
“And yours?” he asked, his tone dry but softening.
She brushed a hand over the stallion’s neck.
“Obsidian.”
For a moment, warmth lingered between them, lit by lantern glow and the children’s laughter. Then Viktor straightened in the saddle, voice firm.
“Let’s get you back to camp.”
Darkness closed in as they left the redwoods behind.
Ahead lay nothing but open desert, rock glinting under a rising moon.
Time bled away as they pressed on, the horses driven hard across the barren flats.
At last, Viktor pulled Obsidian up short and dropped to the ground. Evander turned back reluctantly to find him crouched beside the stallion, one hand pressed to the hoof.
The shoe lay twisted and broken in the dust.
Amerei swallowed hard, turning her face away to hide the devastation in her eyes.
Viktor, beyond exhaustion, pressed his fingers to his brow, knowing a hard decision was upon him.
Every choice had a cost.
This one would be measured in distance—and faith.
He rose and ran a hand over Obsidian’s neck.
“Will he follow, or need to be tied?”
Amerei’s voice came quiet but sure.
“He’ll follow.”
Viktor tightened the straps of his runners, pulled his hair back from his face, and straightened with grim resolve.
“Then ride ahead. I’ll run the rest of the way.”
Evander spurred his horse forward, but Amerei clutched his arm, her voice breaking.
“We’re not leaving you out here alone.”
Viktor’s eyes lingered on her a breath—steady as a frozen river.
“I’ll see you safe to Sevrak.”
He drew Evander’s knife from his belt and pressed it into his hand.
“Trust your horse—she can see in the dark. Run her as hard as she’ll take you, and stop for nothing.”
He slapped Alabaster into motion, the horse leaping forward.
Amerei glanced back over the saddle, her eyes finding his—and holding.
Whatever it takes…
He would not leave her to the dark.