Chapter Fifteen #2
Things were always tense, but people used to carry that tension with hope. Now they seem to carry it with fear.
“A black mist?” Matterson, one of the riders, asks across from me when Darren returns late to dinner one evening.
Cold air catches in my lungs as I watch Darren’s lips pull thin, his skin already paling under the flickering candlelight.
“Nex and I couldn’t even get close before it started messing with our Threads…” He shakes his head and pulls Neeve toward him. “Whatever he’s building in there—with all the pure Threads he’s harvesting—it’s growing...”
Shit, this isn't just things getting worse… This is something else. I tell myself it’s fine, that we still have time, that nothing changes. But it doesn’t feel true.
Darren continues talking, keeping his voice low, but the words don’t stay contained—they spread quickly through the camp until everyone’s heard some version of it.
I thought the increased panic would take the pressure off teaching, that finally everyone would listen.
But they don’t. One-eyed Lee hasn’t taken another swing at me, but that’s only because he’s too distracted now, too wired, his focus flicking toward the tent flaps at every sound. And Ezzy has stopped coming entirely.
She’s been staying in the kitchen for the last week or so. Not that she needs to come; she’s already an expert compared to this. Still, I worry her silence around me has turned into avoidance.
“Give her more time,” Neeve comforts me, after class the following weekend, noticing the tear I’m trying to hide as we leave the Briefing Tent.
“I know it’s been a month since she woke up—but don’t try to force things with her yet, it won’t help.
Trust me, I learnt that the hard way with Darren—and he chose to leave the Citadel. Ezzy was taken from it.”
Shrugging, I give her a half smile because Ezzy’s right to avoid me. It was my actions that dragged her here, away from her family, from everything she’s ever known. My choices that led to Rowan’s death. To Finn being gone.
A streak of green sweeps past us as Ahria swoops out from behind me and beelines for the Food Tent opposite, where Darren waits outside, his eyes narrowed on me.
“How’s things going with you two?” Nodding toward him, I force back the feelings before the tears can slip any further, before Ahria can see any of it, and change the subject. “Have you talked properly yet? I heard you wake up the other night—are you still having the dreams?”
Neeve’s lips twitch. “No, I haven't found the right moment to talk to him yet.” Her gaze flick to Darren then back to me as she pulls her braid forward, twisting it through her fingers. “The dreams are getting more vivid now though—not just the images, but the feelings. It’s like this pain I’ve never felt before, as though something’s being torn away from me each time I wake up and I realise their red body isn’t there curled up beside me. ”
Her voice wavers and I step a little closer, resting a hand on her shoulder as she keeps talking.
I get it—the dreams I had about Ahria when I was in the Citadel were like that too.
By the end, waking without her there left this hollow ache in my chest, and I didn’t even know what it meant.
But Neeve does; she knows it’s her dragon, she knows they’re out there.
I’m so focused on listening to her that I don’t register the footsteps until they stop right beside us.
“Hope you’re not talking my fiancée into entering the Blood Moon?” Darren’s voice makes us both jump.
“No, I—” I start to push back. I’m way too tired for his bullshit, but Neeve’s quicker.
“Lyra was simply helping me with some Thread work,” she exclaims, smoothing over the crack in her voice as if it were never there, and lifting onto her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips.
The change in him is immediate, the tension in his expression loosens and his eyes soften in a way I haven’t seen for weeks. For a moment he stays there, looking at her like everything else has dropped away, like she’s the only thing that matters.
“Come on,” he finally huffs, the edge gone from his tone now as he hooks an arm around her waist and draws her in against his side. “Let's get some food.”
Pulling back the canvas flap, they head inside together, but I hang back. Partly to give them space so they can talk about her dreams. Partly because I don't trust myself not to say something to him that I'll regret later.
I know Neeve loves him, but I'm starting to think she could do better.
Counting out a few moments, I duck inside after them. Letting the flap fall shut behind me, I freeze.
The Food Tent is eerily silent.
Even Ahria—who would normally dart ahead to steal whatever lunch has been left unattended—lingers at my side.
“What's going on?” I ask Reya, who’s standing just inside. Her piercing grey eyes catch on mine as she turns to face me. Swallowing, I do my best to hide the way my pulse trips every time she looks at me.
I’ve decided it’s worse than training with Beth.
Beth may have been trying to secretly kill me, but she didn't have me questioning my own sexuality. I can see why Talen liked—likes—her. Beth was hot in a young, polished, bitchy, intimidating kind of way, whereas Reya is all woman, with curves I would die for. I’ve caught myself wondering what her tanned skin looks like naked more than once, which only makes the jealousy worse as my brain starts acting out full, detailed scenarios of Talen’s mouth on it.
“Matterson’s dead,” she states bluntly, not sugarcoating it, “along with a bunch of people from the Water Realm they were trying to evacuate.”
My heart kicks into a faster rhythm, and when I speak my voice comes out a pitch too high. “But he was just here last week—I saw him talking with Darren about that black mist.”
My thoughts immediately jump to Talen. I still haven’t opened his Letter-threader since Ezzy woke, but most days Reya or Lucien pass on word that he’s okay, and right now I'm clinging to that harder than ever.
Reya tilts her head toward the back of the tent, where a small group has gathered around a female recruit with long blonde hair, her eyes red and swollen. The cluster shifts enough for me to see Darren, his arms wrapped around her, Neeve and Lucien standing close behind.
“They were ambushed this morning by Serrane’s scouts,” she adds, “just outside the camp.”
“I’m so sorry, did you know him well?”
“He bonded with Darren and me during the last Blood Moon. I wasn’t that close with him, but he and Darren were really tight.” She folds her arms tightly across her chest. “Fuck. There’s got to be two hundred of us here now, and we only have seven riders left. After losing Parker last month too.”
Seven. The number lands heavy and my stomach twists. How many dragons does Serrane have? Does he have bonded riders too?
“But I thought the dragons can channel Veils to keep them hidden? Like they do here?” My brows furrow.
“They can’t do it while they’re in full form.”
“So we’re exposed midair?”
She nods but pivots her attention to Lucien as he steps up in front of us. He looks exhausted.
“Talen’s going to have to make the call soon,” she tells him, “we’re sitting ducks here, it's only a matter of time...”
“You don't think Merrin and I have told him that? We’ve been on at him for weeks now that it's time to go.” Lucien gripes, his hands tugging restlessly at the rough-cut gemstone around his neck.
“Anyway, where were you this morning when all this went down? I woke up and you were gone. You could have at least said bye.”
Reya stiffens. “Sorry, didn’t realise I was required to stay and keep your bed warm, Luc. I’ve been a bit busy, if you haven’t noticed.”
“That’s not what I—” he starts, but it’s too late—she’s already storming out of the tent. Dragging a hand down his face, he sighs and watches her go, too tired to hide the longing and frustration flooding his eyes. Then he turns back to me. “Ready?”
My stomach twists at the question—partly from the heights, but mostly from what could be out there, waiting.
For a heartbeat, I think about faking being sick, about getting out of this entirely, but whatever Serrane is planning is coming whether I like it or not. And when it does, I want to be fucking ready.
Biting down on a yawn, I swallow hard. “Let’s go.”