Chapter 20
KETHRAKI
TWENTY
“History is written by the survivors, and they bury their secrets. Try to erase them. But I believe we’re seeing the first signs of something awakening, something that was intentionally hidden. Something powerful.”
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
The morning light filters into the outpost, cutting through the cool air as I step into the mess hall, still feeling the lingering warmth of last night on my skin. I’m sore, but in the best way.
I grab a plate, find my usual seat, and try to act normal.
I fail.
Because the moment I sit down, Lyra’s eyes snap to mine. And I know she can see it all over me.
She freezes mid-bite, then grins. A slow, knowing, wicked grin. Then, loud enough for half the damn mess hall to hear, “OH, FINALLY! I had a feeling when you came to bed late last night!”
I choke on air.
Lyra slams her hands on the table, pure joy radiating off her like she just won a bet. “IT’S ABOUT DAMN TIME.”
My friends raise their cups of tea and clink them together in toast.
I groan, dropping my forehead against the table. “Lyra—”
Taila waves a hand. “No. No. You do not get to be embarrassed. You get to be celebrated.”
Lyra leans in like she’s about to conduct a war debriefing—smug, strategic, and horrifyingly invested. “So? Was he as good as we suspected? Did he live up to all that warlord energy? Was it—”
“Yes! We must have details!” Fenric shouts over the laughter and teasing.
I slap my hand over his mouth. “Not. Another. Word.”
Fenric wrenches my hand away—and cackles. Like a villain.
Darius puts an arm around my shoulders and gives me a sympathetic look. “Too late, my friend. We’ve all been way too invested in this.”
Nessa spears a piece of fruit and shoves it in her mouth. “Oh yes! They have caught me up with everything that’s been going on with the Warlord these past few months.”
Of course they did. Nessa only joined our little group a few weeks ago.
Lyra is laughing, eyes gleaming with way too much amusement.
I notice Kieran two tables over, looking at us. He arches an eyebrow and winks. I groan even louder.
I risk a glance across the hall. Thane’s already watching—standing with the rest of the Phoenix Ring, expression maddeningly neutral. Except for the tilt of his mouth. The one that says he heard every word.
The one that says: I dare you to blush again.
Later that afternoon, I ride Calryx through the sky.
The wind rushes past me, crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth from the forest below.
The sky stretches endlessly above, a vast expanse of pale blue streaked with wisps of white.
The world sprawls below us, quiet and vast—rolling hills, dense forests, rivers cutting through the landscape like silver veins.
From up here, everything looks smaller.
It’s been ten days since we bonded. Ten days since I took the trust fall from the cliffs, letting go of my fear so she could catch me before I broke. Ten days of flying together, learning each other’s movements and testing our limits.
She’s strong. Fast. Unstoppable in the sky. And I am learning. Learning how to move with her; to trust the instincts that are no longer just mine, but ours.
Flying with her is starting to feel like breathing.
We glide effortlessly, Calryx’s wings outstretched, catching the thermals. She barely moves, her body in perfect harmony with the sky. I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the weightlessness, freedom, and pure exhilaration of flight.
“You’re learning,” Calryx murmurs. “You trust me more now. I will never let you fall.”
I grin, tilting my head back as the wind rushes through my hair—wild, untamed, alive. “I think I believe that now.”
Calryx rumbles beneath me, low and pleased, her joy threading through mine like a shared pulse. “Or maybe you are finally realizing you were meant for this.”
The clouds part for us like they recognize something ancient in her wings—something sovereign.
Calryx’s magics anchors me to her back, a steady, invisible tether that holds me firm.
It hums through me, a quiet promise that I won’t fall.
I’m settled deep in the saddle, secure in every way that matters.
But gods, the freedom of flight—it’s intoxicating.
She dips suddenly, rolling into a sharp spiral, the movement smooth, controlled. I move with her. Instinctively. Without fear.
For once, I’m not training or fighting. Just . . . being. The ground blurs far below us, forests melting into rivers, mountains rising in the distance.
From up here, the world is quiet. Peaceful.
Calryx lets out a low, pleased hum. “This is what we were meant to do.”
“Yeah.” I exhale, shifting forward, resting against the warm scales of her neck. “It is.”
For a while, we just fly.
But then, the wind changes. A sharp stillness creeps in.
The warmth of the sun diminishes, replaced by something cold, unnatural.
I sit up, my gut tightening. “Calryx.”
“I feel it.”
Ahead, the sky darkens. Not clouds, but shadows. And then, from the curling abyss, they emerge.
They burst free from the darkness—winged figures, long and jagged, their skeletal forms twisting unnaturally.
Their wings are wrong—thin, almost shredded, yet somehow keeping them aloft. Their elongated claws glisten like obsidian, and their faces are nothing but slits of seething black.
Calryx’s wings tighten beneath me. “Kethraki,” she snarls. “They should not be this far north.”
There are too many. I count at least twelve—maybe more.
Circling. Watching.
Waiting to strike. Predators closing in. Then, one screeches. And they attack.
Adrenaline floods my body. My magics answer before I can think, all instinct and heat.
The first strike comes fast. A lash of shadow arcs toward us, sharp as a blade. Calryx twists sharply, diving low—just enough to avoid the strike. One dives from above—claws bared.
I raise my hand, summoning fire, hurling a bolt of white-hot flame. The flames hit its chest, and this time—it screams. The blast rips through its chest, searing with a brilliance that tears it apart. The Kethraki shrieks, twisting violently—then collapses into nothing but ash.
The stench of rotting flesh floods my nose.
But they don’t stop. Two more come at our flank, one from behind. Calryx snaps around. Jaws open. Fire surges. The first doesn’t even have time to scream—her teeth sink into its neck, tearing through the shadowed flesh. It bleeds.
The second Kethraki tries to strike from behind, but I see it. My training kicks in.
I spin, thrusting my hand outward, a whip of water slashing clean across its throat. It chokes, convulses—then crumbles into black mist, dissipating.
Three down. The rest are circling. The winged beasts adjust, coming from every direction.
One slashes toward me—I counter with fire.
Another dives from above—Calryx twists sharply, raking her talons through its chest, sending it plummeting.
A third barrels toward her side, jaws snapping.
She roars, fire igniting her entire body as she slams her tail into its head.
The force cracks its skull, sending it spiraling.
I grit my teeth, fury and adrenaline still burning hot in my veins. We can finish this. The Kethraki are falling, one by one—Calryx scorches through the pack. I cut them down, one by one. The battlefield reeks of burning shadow, the sky thick with the remnants of what we’ve already destroyed.
We are winning.
Calryx dives low, then twists hard, her tail lashing out, snapping through a Kethraki’s skull. The creature convulses violently, its body shattering into ribbons of darkness before disintegrating into nothing.
Another one lunges for our flank. I see it—too late. A blur of claws, a rush of motion—then fire across my ribs.
My vision flickers, and for half a second, I can’t breathe. I barely register the winged creature spiraling away, its claws slick with my blood.
Calryx feels it instantly. “You’re hurt!”
My vision pulses with every heartbeat. I refuse to look down. If I see the wound, I’ll feel it. And if I feel it, I’ll fall.
“It’s nothing,” I lie, even as my fingers dig into her scales, struggling to keep my balance.
Calryx isn’t fooled. Her wings adjust slightly beneath me, more protective, more cautious. “We must leave now.”
“No!” I snap. I hurl fire at another Kethraki, sending it shrieking into oblivion. “We can finish this! We have the advantage!”
Shadowed wings dive toward us, its claws stretched wide.
I twist sharply, kicking off the side of Calryx’s saddle, grabbing at the air—summoning water, freezing it mid-strike.
A jagged spear of ice slams into its chest. The creature chokes, screeching, trying to fight it—but I shatter the ice with fire, and it disintegrates into nothing.
Calryx dodges another attack, her body twisting, shifting, her fire blasting through the sky. More fall.
But I feel it now. The slow pull of exhaustion. The way my magics strain, pulling deeper than I should let it. The way my lungs fight for air, dragging it in like they’ve turned to stone. The burn of blood seeping into my clothes.
“You are bleeding out.” Calryx’s words slice through me harder than the wound itself.
I shake my head, furious. “If we let them go, more villages burn.”
“They will be dead before sunrise,” Calryx growls. “The Warlord will track them. The others will hunt them down. But if you bleed out before we reach the ground—” Her wings tighten beneath me, her voice edged with something dangerously close to fear. “Not even I can save you.”
A chill races through me because I know she’s right. Even now, my vision swims at the edges. My breath comes too fast, too shallow. The heat from my magics is pressing against my skin like a fever, my body struggling to keep up. If I keep pushing, I will collapse.
And if I fall now—I won’t survive it.