Chapter One
TALEN’S POV
“She’s alive...” I repeat, easing closer. “Lyra, Ezzy is alive.”
But through the fear, she doesn’t hear me. Or if she does, she’s too far gone to believe it. Looking at her, something cold and vicious grips my chest at how pale she’s become, the kind of white that drains straight through to the bone.
With my hands raised, I take another step forward, but she scrabbles back, heels grinding into the dry dirt as she fights to put distance between us.
Each frantic shift only pulls the ropes around her wrists and ankles tighter, dragging them over torn skin until fresh blood darkens the dust beneath her.
Pressure builds behind my ribs at the sight of it, at what they did to her. Then the smell hits next—metallic, familiar, hers—and the world narrows. Heat flares through my veins as Cal rises beneath my skin, locking every muscle with a protective need that feels dangerously too close to possession.
“We need to move,” Luc warns, his boots grinding over the dry earth as he steps up beside me.
“No shit,” I snap back, turning to face him. It’s my voice, but the fury behind it is all Cal.
Luc doesn’t even bother responding; he just arches a brow, pinning me with a stare until the stiffness drains from my shoulders, and I breathe again.
“Sorry,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You know it takes me a while to reset.”
But he’s right. The sun’s climbing fast, gilding the northern peaks in a soft pink wash, and we’re out in the open with nothing but a carriage, two horses, a few scraps of scrub, and a giant fucking burn scar where Cal just incinerated two Citadel officers.
We’re exposed, running out of time, and Lyra’s slipping into shock.
We need to move before anyone arrives or before she hurts herself further.
Pulse hammering against my chest, I swallow and remember where I am—who I am—and drop to one knee beside her, hands still lifted in surrender as if that alone might steady her.
“Lyra,” I say, softer now. “Hey, look at me. Breathe. Just breathe, all right?”
But it’s no use. Her gaze has gone glassy, far away, and her breaths keep coming in quick, uneven pulls—shallow and erratic, like her lungs have lost the pattern entirely.
“Think you can keep her calm until we land?” Luc asks.
“I can try to calm her for now, but the second we’re airborne—”
“It’s not worth the risk,” Cal growls through my mind. “She will fall.”
Gritting my teeth, I shove him down as best I can. I need to focus; I can’t have him crowding my thoughts right now.
Still, he’s not wrong. She’s barely holding on. Her arm is probably dislocated, her face is bruised and cut from the Trials. Add the height, a dragon, and the speed of being airborne? She’ll bloody lose it.
But the other option isn’t much better...
Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach out. Not to touch her, but toward the space around her where the air’s already humming with her magic. They’re vibrating so hard that I can feel them against my skin, sharp, frantic pulses coming off her in uneven bursts.
Her eyes flare wide with terror as she shoves her back against the cart behind her, but I force out a breath, feeling for the pattern beneath the chaos.
I leave the anger and just focus on her fear, and then I set my own Threads to match it. Not with emotion—just frequency. A steady, controlled force that pushes from my palm into the gap between us.
The moment it brushes skin, her Threads jerk. The impact jolts up my arm as they resist, then stutter, like they’re trying to find the rhythm I’m giving them.
“Come on,” I beg, barely a sound, but it isn’t enough.
Her fear surges again, and she tries to crawl farther back, fingers skidding through the dirt as her bound legs drag uselessly beneath her.
The carriage stops her from getting any farther, but she keeps fighting it, blood staining the ground beneath her as her magic flare with every frantic movement, resisting me as fiercely as she is.
Cursing under my breath, I try again but even controlling Serrane isn’t this hard, still I brace against the strain and dig deeper, forcing the vibrations out steadier, stronger until finally, the tension in her body starts to loosen.
Dropping back onto my heels, I watch as, bit by bit, blood seeps back into her skin. warming what had gone white, the tension in my chest easing with it.
Then she blinks, and the frantic flicker of her eyes calms when they find mine. For one breath, maybe two, she doesn’t turn away. She just stares, those emerald-green eyes finally clear again, bright as cut glass in the morning light.
There you are.
Thank god.
I almost smile, almost let myself believe we’re okay, but then her expression changes. Her jaw stiffens, and the glare she gives me next—venomous and cracked with betrayal—cuts sharper than a fucking blade.
“You…” she spits, the word shaped like a verdict. “You stabbed her, Ezzy, and you killed him. Brian.” She whips her head toward Lucien, throwing the accusation at him next. “And you, you killed Rowan.” Her gaze jumps between us. “You’re brutes. Citadel butchers. Both of you.”
A cold, ugly feeling spreads beneath my skin as she glares at me, like I’m the villain, like I’m something to fear. And I get it, god, I get it. But it still wrecks me—not because she’s wrong, but because she isn’t. And because it’s her saying it.
Looking past me, her focus lands on JC’s massive blue-scaled form behind us, and the colour drains from her face again so fast I think she might throw up.
Shit.
“And you’re…” The question catches in her throat. “You’re... a dragon?”
Panic hits her, raw and wild, slamming against the fragile grip I have on her Threads. Jaw locked, I hold steady, pressing mine back with just enough pressure to keep her from breaking apart. But it’s climbing, and I can feel her slipping again.
“Yes,” I reply, keeping my hands raised. “Yes, we killed them. But it’s not what you think. And no—I’m not a dragon. Not technically.”
Exhaling hard, I swallow down everything I want to explain, everything I don’t have time to say right now.
“You deserve answers, Lyra, all of them. And I’ll give them to you.
But right now, I need to get you out of this clearing alive.
” Glancing down at her hands, still bound by ropes cutting into her bloodied wrists, I shift closer.
“I’m trying to calm your Threads, but you’re in shock and panicking so hard I’m barely keeping them from tearing you apart.
You’re scared of heights and I’m not strapping you to the back of a dragon like this.
” I pause, bracing myself and already hating what I’m about to do.
“So I’m going to do one last thing you won’t like. ”
One glance at Lucien. He doesn’t hesitate, just nods, pulls the cloth from his pocket, and steps forward Lyra’s eyes flare as he presses it to her mouth, but her body goes limp before she can protest.
Moving fast, I catch her head before it hits the ground, lowering her gently, red curls spilling beneath her, before standing up and turning to face the Southern Peaks behind me.
“Fuck,” I shout, raking my fingers through my hair, pacing hard. “How did we end up here? We should’ve gotten her out ages ago. Not waited. And now… now, how many more people are dead because of me?”
“Don’t start that.” Luc argues. “You know Merrin was right. That she needed to stay. She wasn’t ready for the camp, for what's next. And don’t blame those deaths on yourself.”
His voice is steady, but tension runs through his arm as he lifts it, pointing toward the Innerlands, barely visible in the distance.
“That blonde kid, Rowan, he was too far gone. There was nothing I could’ve done—he was in agony.
You know that. And Brian—the book nerd? Talen, if you and Merrin hadn’t acted first, Strannt would’ve done far worse.
You saw how long they’d been circling him.
They wanted to make an example of him to scare anyone else away from private research.
He would’ve died slow and screaming. What you gave him was mercy, quick and painless. ”
“Don’t—” I stop him, swallowing. “Don’t call it that.”
The usually dull gemstone around his neck catches the light as he steps in closer and looks right at me. “There was no clean way to get him out without blowing your cover. Don’t twist this into something it isn’t.”
Dropping my focus back to Lyra bound on the ground below me, the weight behind my chest builds all over again. “Shit, Luc—what if we’re just in too deep to see straight? What if there was a line and we already fucking crossed it? If we just had more time—”
“Time?” he huffs. “We don’t have the luxury of time.
We do what we have to, when we have to, so they don’t question us.
That’s our job. We play the monsters so we can stop the real ones.
Every kill we make in their name gets us one step closer to ending all of this for good.
” Resting an arm on my shoulder, his voice drops. “Don’t forget why you’re here.”
My fists curl so damn hard, I’m surprised I don’t break skin, but I don’t bother pushing back; we’ve had this argument countless times. It’s always the same and never gets anywhere.
“Here.” Luc lets go and tosses me my talisman. Catching it, I drag my thumb over the worn crest before sliding it back into my pocket. “You know, I’ve never figured out why you don’t come back naked,” he laughs. “Would’ve been way more entertaining than showing up in your own clothes.”
Running my hands over the black Citadel piece of shit they call a uniform, I shrug, “Beats me. I’ve never understood any of this—and it’s not like Cal or the other dragons are ever in the mood to share.”
Heat blasts up my neck as JC exhales behind me—sharp and pointed. Too deliberate to be anything but pissed at my comment. Luckily, Cal’s finally settled back down; otherwise, I’m sure he would have snapped back.
Heaving a heavy sigh, I drop back down and start untying the ropes around Lyra’s delicate wrists.
Did they really have to tie them this fucking tight?
“It's getting harder, you know...” Luc warns. “Bringing you back.”
I don’t look at him. I just drag the last blood-stained knot free from her wrists and stand. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m just stressed.”
I wave him off like it’s nothing, but the lie settles like gravel in my gut, and my fingers twitch. Flexing them once, I shove both hands into my pockets, gripping the talisman before they start again.
Because I used to be able to control it, deciding when Cal came through, and when to pull him back. Simple line. My line. Now? Now, he’s staying longer, harder to shake, like he’s testing how far he can push before I notice.
I mean, I can’t really blame him. Nine years merged with a human body? Hell, I’d be clawing for the surface too—
A deep rumble rolls through the valley, reverberating through the dry earth beneath me. Thunder, distant but closing in fast.
“Merrin is right about her, isn’t he?” Luc asks, turning his head south, toward the peaks where the sky’s already bruising with storm. “She can do this… right?”
“God, I hope so.” I scrub a hand down my face.
“She’ll need at least a few weeks rest just to walk straight again.
Then training needs to start. The Blood Moon’s in less than ten weeks.
” My attention stays locked on the dark cloud swelling on the horizon.
“You take her. I’ll meet you back at the camp.
Strannt’s mine, he won’t have gotten far. ”
Luc nods, and I take one last glance at Lyra.
She’ll wake up hating me. Good. Better that than dead.
Then I press the talisman back into Luc’s hand and don’t wait for a reply.
Dropping my guard and relaxing my mind—power tears up my spine like a lightning strike as Cal instantly surges through me.
My vision blurs, heat flooding every nerve as my body unravels and reshapes. The world tilts as I stumble forward—
—and then I’m gone.