Chapter 1
Azar
I don’t specifically recall hatching, but I do remember spending extended periods of time under water. When I asked Euphrasia later, she told me it was because until I could maintain one form for an extended period of time, I couldn’t be allowed to spend any time out of her care.
Looking back, I can scarcely imagine the risk she took to protect me—or why she would do it.
I asked, but she always just smiled and told me I was worth the risk.
It must have been hard on her to make it habitable for me underwater, and it must have been terrifying that she might be caught and held accountable for her actions, but she did it.
There may have been a lot of close calls, but I only recall one.
I was several years old. I could fly, and I could hold my red scaled form for long enough to be out and about.
Euphrasia was taking me to Father’s lair at his request, and I was scampering along behind her, chanting my mantra: stay red, stay red, stay red.
She scowled, because I wasn’t supposed to think it out loud, but sometimes it was hard to keep quiet.
Once I managed to stay red, I also just happened to see the blessed she had said was my father, and that’s who we were going to see.
I couldn’t help my glee. I wanted him to be impressed with how large I had grown, and how red I was, so I dashed ahead of her to try and catch up to him. . .
And slammed into a huge, red-scaled leg.
I can still recall the sound, the weight, and the heat of the exhalation that crashed over my head.
I recall looking up, up, up until I saw a face looming over me, a giant, angry red face.
More than anything else, when I think of that memory, I can still see with perfect clarity the fury in those black eyes, glinting at me.
A shiver shot through my entire body. Even then, I knew I was about to die.
The enormous red blessed above me drew in a ragged breath, clearly preparing to roast me before smashing me, or stomping on me, or eating me. Before he could incinerate me, another red-scaled blessed shot past, snapping me up with his giant claws.
Hyperion wasn’t young then, but he wasn’t old either, at least, not compared to Thunar.
Don’t want to make Father wait, he broadcast, and then he sped up even more.
It’s a good thing he did. I imagine, with what I know now, that had it been easier to destroy me or the two of us, Father would have done it.
I can’t think of another blessed who could have saved me from Thunar, who held a position second only to Father within the blessed, then and now. From that day on, I thought of Hyperion as my friend. I was an idiot, clearly.
But we were certainly tied by prophecy, even then.
If Hyperion was our people’s doom, at least there was a savior, and he had no intention of letting that savior die, even if keeping me alive felt like an all but impossible task.
It doesn’t surprise me, after I hear Thunar’s distinctive portaling sound, that Hyperion almost immediately trumpets overhead.
Of course he heard it too, and of course he’s already waiting on me, ready to stand beside me.
Or often, right in front of me.
The problem is, our proximity to Father saved us back then. Once Hyperion got us to Father, Thunar’s opportunity to destroy us was at least delayed. But here on Earth, where Father doesn’t want to come? Anything can happen.
In fact, it already has.
I died, or at least, my Azar half did.
So if Thunar kills me here, he has more than plausible deniability.
He has the perfect excuse. He could blame the humans.
He could blame the circumstances. He could probably just tell Father he was upset about my incompetence and leave it at that.
Which means today, with Liz bonded to me, I’m probably as at-risk of death-by-Thunar as I’ve ever been.
Maybe more.
And there’s no Daddy nearby to run to.
As much as I appreciate Hyperion’s ongoing loyalty, he can’t save me here either, not without portaling home, and if Thunar’s here, it’s because Father sent him.
“You’re staying here.” I pull away from Liz with very little regret. As enjoyable as my time in this human form has been, I can’t continue, not now. Maybe not ever again, if I’m smart.
I shift immediately into Azar, and I turn to glare.
Liz is already strapping her sword scabbard in place.
You cannot come. That’s an order. You will stay here.
She rolls her eyes.
I’m not asking. I’m not begging. I’m telling.
When she turns toward me this time, she freezes. Maybe she sees something in my face. Maybe it’s the emphatic method of my communication, but she nods. It’s small, but it’s there.
I relax just a little.
I know she won’t stay away long, and it may not even matter.
Because if I die, she will too, and there’s still a good chance of that whether Liz is present or not.
In a head-on fight, I can’t defeat my oldest brother, not even with Hyperion’s help.
With Liz there, it feels very likely that we will fight.
I appreciate a lot of things about her, but level-headed, she isn’t.
My brother Thunar’s here. He’s not friendly, and he’s not kind. Please stay put while I meet with him. Keep the kids close, too.
“Are you in danger?” The bond thrums, and her eyes are tight. “Should I be—”
Worried. She’s wondering whether she should worry. Of course not. I have Hyperion with me, and I’m stronger than I was. I’ll be back soon.
I can tell by the way she bites her lip that she can feel my lie. Thankfully, she doesn’t argue. As I launch into the sky, I find myself worrying that she might be sick. It’s not like her to let something like this go so easily. I glance over my shoulder to make sure she’s not following me.
Which is stupid.
I can sense where she is now, and she’s walked into the next room, but she’s not flying anywhere. Liz may not be very obedient, but she’s not an idiot.
I’ve barely flown away from our new lodgings that overlook the edge of the Timor Sea—I don’t want to lead Thunar right to Liz if it comes to that—when Euphrasia bursts out of the water.
You can’t come either. I don’t bother stopping.
I heard him. She doesn’t argue, but her tone is not reassuring. Be careful.
As if I need her to tell me that. Hyperion joins me as I wing my way toward the direction I heard the portal. It’s promising that he landed so far away. That’s a polite thing to do.
Thunar isn’t polite. Speculation’s pointless.
As we wing our way north, we startle a herd of water buffalo, but shortly after that, I see them.
Far, far more blessed have arrived than just my older brother.
At least ten thousand blessed have landed on the northern side of the island, and notably, the earth blessed he brought still have no wings.
Liz’s upgrade only helped the blessed who were here? Hyperion spares me one curious glance before we land.
Thunar. I glance around at the wide circle the other blessed have made for Hyperion and me. Even if we haven’t returned yet, the earth, strike, and water blessed who came with Thunar still show a healthy amount of respect.
That’s the wrong word, really.
Fear.
That’s always been the strongest motivator for all of us.
I feel the wind from his wings through the portal before I see him.
I turn just before Hyperion does, and as ever, my oldest half-brother flies in last, making a very calculated, very dramatic entrance on the north side of the small Australian island.
You’re still alive. The humor in his simple statement is clear.
I hate when he laughs at me.
He knows and he’s baiting me. I’m young, but I’m no longer stupid. I ignore him.
Not only alive, Hyperion says. We’ve recovered the heart, just a few days ago.
But you didn’t return. Thunar lands heavily in front of us, forcing Hyperion and me to back up or risk being knocked over.
Everything with him is always a power play.
If he wasn’t half again bigger than Hyperion, I wouldn’t stand for it.
As it is, I’m pretty sure he can kill both of us before we could take him.
That leaves us backpedaling, even though we hate it.
I suppose that’s my fault. Thunar tilts his head, looking down on us, his expression shifting from me to Hyperion and back again. I made it a statement. Let me be more clear. Why didn’t you return, if you have indeed recovered the heart? He arches one eyebrow. And where is it?
Ten thousand blessed and none of them are making a single sound. Not so much as a murmur. They’re as concerned as we are. What did you come for? I lift my head and glare at him. Why did Father send you?
Oh, he didn’t send me. I volunteered. You know how he detests earth himself. His half-smile is infuriating. I told him when he chose you for this mission that it was a mistake. You don’t send a hatchling to do anything important.
You might have had an easier time. I straighten. You had quite a few advantages, such as knowing the heart was, in fact, a rock. You also knew that a human-blessed bond was required to stay here on earth for any length of time.
Thunar leans closer, his eyes narrowed. A lot can change in thousands of years, hatchling. Did all the earth blessed die, then? Were they too weak, or could they bond the earth-children after all? And where is the heart? When last I was here, the vanir—
I open my mouth and roar. You should have told me about the vanir. You should have told me why we left here in the first place.
Thunar roars right back, his massive head twisting, his razor-sharp teeth snapping. We owed you nothing. Now give me the heart. He steps closer, his massive feet sinking into the soft sand. Why didn’t you portal in already to tell Father the good news and give it to him yourself?
We’ve been waiting to make sure that the recovery of the heart fixed our problem and that the blessed can lay eggs now.
You should have returned home and waited to see there.