Chapter 21
Shards of lacquered bamboo and torn canvas lie scattered across the rocks, quivering in the wind. Amidst them, a person in the dark academy uniform lies on the rocks—an image so horrific my mind shies from it. And yet I can’t fade it, can’t quench the scream ringing silently in my head.
As I step closer, my heart clenches and my hands tremble.
No, no, no. It can’t be.
And yet it’s a small woman with blond hair, now turning red with blood. My friend—hurt. A strangled grunt leaves my throat, while the beach and sky darken and blur around me. Nothing makes sense.
I kneel by Celine and hold her hand, part of me still clinging to the strange belief that this is some kind of nightmare, that it’s not real. It can’t be real.
But it’s her face, except that her eyes look nowhere and everywhere. Cold, lifeless eyes.
And her pulse is limp—a still, silent nothing beneath my fingers.
My heart falls into a pit of emptiness, a pit of pain. Celine’s gone.
No. These words are a lie. My friend can’t be gone. Not like that.
“Celine!” I want to bring her back, want to yell her name loud enough to return her soul to her body, but I can’t.
If I’m really her friend, I need to do the right thing: ensure she crosses over in peace.
Tears blur my eyes as the words of the final prayer fall from my lips, strange words that I never thought I’d recite. “Stay steady on your path, and allow Thantos to guide you. Bare before him your deeds, the best and the worst, and everything in between. May you find joy in your new life.”
But Celine was too young to embark on a new life. She was so smart, so kind. I can’t even blame the dragons for her death. It was a stupid training that she didn’t even want to take. A training she wouldn’t be taking had she been expelled weeks ago, had I not helped her clean those windows.
Guilt courses through me like poison.
An eternity passes, my hand clenching hers, tears dripping from my eyes, and yet it’s just a moment before someone touches my shoulder.
“Step aside, recruit.”
“Why?” My word comes with a sob.
“First aid.” It’s an assistant instructor.
“She’s dead!” I roar. “Dead.”
The young man looks between her and me, then crouches beside her without a word and presses two fingers to her wrist, his face grimmer as the seconds go by.
Nothing makes sense, and I’m still clinging to a pointless shard of hope that she’ll open her eyes, smile, and tell me this was just a nightmare.
We’ll go see Instructor Katrine together this afternoon.
Celine will keep studying; she’ll become a scholar.
Meanwhile, I’ll tell her all about the hatchlings, and we’ll figure out how to take care of them.
We’ll have many breakfasts together, many star nectar parties, many balls. So much to look forward to. So much…
Everything lost. Bitterness is the only taste in my mouth.
Three men in red robes approach us—Auranius’ acolytes. Aren’t they even going to give me time to say goodbye? Time to give her a proper sendoff?
“Wait,” the word struggles to come out amidst sobs. “Let me grieve.”
An acolyte shakes his head, while the assistant instructor says, “Step aside and let them carry her.” His voice is kind, but it’s also a warning.
My body trembling, I manage to let go of Celine’s hand, manage to step away, and yet can’t manage to accept that this is my final goodbye.
This is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Where I grew up, when someone died, their family spent hours beside their loved one, singing songs and reciting prayers.
They stayed there as the body burned for hours and hours, ensuring the soul of the deceased didn’t feel lonely, didn’t feel scared. Now they’re taking Celine like that?
And yet I let them, and watch the acolytes place my friend on a stretcher and walk away.
No. My hands clench. This can’t be over. I want to say goodbye to Celine, honor her in death. I want to be there when her body is burned, when the last thread tying her to this life shatters.
The least Celine deserves is to have a friend with her during her passage away from this world, and I won’t let her down.
The acolytes are approaching the tunnel leading away from the beach, and I follow them from a safe distance, figuring that if anyone sees me, they’ll assume I’m returning to the academy.
The daytime attack comes to mind, when the acolytes brought carts and carts filled with bodies to the castle. I should have paid attention to where they went, to how they took the bodies to Auranius’ lair. But I’ll figure it out.
Outside the tunnel, the acolytes take a left turn instead of following the path to the castle, as if they were going to the back of Dracolius City, to some secret entrance that will lead them to our dragon guardian’s hideout.
My stomach lurches. I don’t think I’ll be able to follow them into their secret passages unnoticed. If only there was another way up…
The castle.
With so much of it carved into the hill, and since it goes up, there must be some passage, some way. And if any door is locked, I have the key.
As quickly as I can, I walk back to the academy, then pass by the cleaning crew’s deposit, which is thankfully empty.
I grab a uniform, then head to my room. It’s also empty, with an odd quietness that mimics my heart—or the hole where it should be.
I put on the cleaner’s uniform, then head to the stairs.
My heart beats fast from the steps, from the anxiety, from the sheer wrongness of everything as I reach the very last floor.
Thin sunhole threads of light illuminate an open space, with a platform over the chasm leading down to the lower floors, where four servants operate the elevator pulleys.
Two guards stand on the other side of the opening, but they pay me no mind.
My breath hitches. This floor might exist only for the elevator controllers. Maybe there’s no way up to Auranius’ lair from here. Maybe I should have tried to follow the acolytes. Maybe I’ll never get to say goodbye to my friend.
No. I want to see Auranius honoring her, want to make sure that everything goes well—even if I can’t interfere.
I couldn’t save her, couldn’t keep her from flying despite my connection with this kingdom’s bastard prince. Let me at least make use of the key he gave me to honor my friend in death.
Key. I’ll probably have to use it. There are large doors on both ends, not to mention the ones leading to the staircases. I don’t have time to check each of them, and in any case, it would look suspicious. I can’t try to guess.
My nose always feels blocked in the castle, but I just came from the outdoors.
Even if it’s blocked, even if I have to find a wisp of a thread of a scent, I must find it.
In my mind, I recall Auranius’ smell. I’ve often sensed him before I saw him, even from a distance.
The other scent that I focus on is the acolytes’ herbs, which they might use when delivering the bodies.
Maybe not, but it’s another scent I can try to locate.
But the smells reaching my nose have nothing to do with Auranius or his acolytes.
Instead, it’s the oil used on the pulleys and the metal of the chains bringing up and down the elevators, the wood on the floor, stuffy air, the fabric of my uniform, and the coconut soap used to wash it.
And then there’s a scent of rocks and moss, faint like a spider’s string, and yet it leads to the other staircase.
I open its door and look. The steps only go down—or perhaps not.
There is a door here, in the same wooden finish as the wall surrounding it, but with no handles.
I press my palm flat against it and push.
Nothing. But the smell is strongest here, rock and moss, something cold and earthen bleeding through the wood.
I feel along the frame until my fingers catch on a keyhole near the top, where no one would think to look for one, and I slide the key in.
It catches, holds, and I work it back and forth until something inside the lock clicks, and the door gives.
A passage stands before me, made of rough, unpolished rock. No light comes from it, so I go back, take a lumos jar from the stairs, then step in and close the door behind me.
The path climbs gradually, the tunnel narrowing around me until the rough ceiling forces me into a crouch. My nose still searches for Auranius, finding mostly humidity and moss, instead of the scent of the dragon.
I reach a spiral, rusty metal staircase, and climb it, its steps groaning under my weight. The air grows heavy as I go up, until a foul stench hits me—a putrid wave of decay, worse than a bucket of shrimp left to rot in the sun.
Not an unfamiliar smell. I’ve felt this dreadful reek once, when Auranius landed in front of me.
I’m on the right track. I stop trying to focus on my nose, and even then, the foul odor assaults me.
Still, I want to see Celine being cremated.
Since I must be close, I leave the jar on the steps and keep climbing carefully, my heart faster with each step.
The stairs stop, leading to a dark hallway. With my hands outstretched to feel for obstacles, I press forward until a subtle bluish light reveals the cave walls and an opening ahead.
A loud growl tells me I’m in the right place. As silently as I can, I move forward, and realize the passage leads to an opening from where I can see a huge cavern lit by thin threads of light coming from small, natural openings.
Auranius crouches over something, his massive form hunched, as scraps of dark flesh litter the cave floor around him.
On the other side, a robed man walks in, coming from a small tunnel, bringing a package. Not a package. A body—undressed—with blond hair.
Celine? My stomach drops and nausea takes hold. They have to undress the bodies for Auranius to burn them? It makes some sense, but it feels so… horrific.