Chapter 21
Ember
Once again, we’re hiking through dense forest, this time, following the secondary extraction coordinates Hargen sent.
My overwrought muscles burn with each step as I navigate the rugged terrain: steep inclines, fallen logs, and patches of snow that make my already unsteady footing treacherous.
Despite my exhaustion, I keep pushing forward.
Luke sets a measured pace ahead of me, occasionally glancing back to check that I’m still following. The tension from the cabin hangs between us: words unsaid, the intimacy interrupted, the argument unresolved. We speak only when necessary.
“Watch the drop,” he warns as we approach a steep decline.
Later, “Water break in five.”
I nod mechanically, conserving energy.
After what feels like forever, Luke pauses at a ridge to check our position.
“We’re nearly at the extraction point,” he says, studying his GPS unit.
“Aurora pickup is scheduled for this afternoon. That gives us time to rest before the helo arrives.” He tucks the device away. “Should be straightforward. Safe.”
I nod along, but my mind is elsewhere. The word “safe” echoes hollowly.
The content of Hargen’s message won’t leave me alone: Syndicate forces converging on the tomb. Hybrid identification protocols imminent.
By the time Aurora mobilizes a proper response, the ritual could be complete. Other hybrids—people like me who’ve been hiding their whole lives—will be exposed. Hunted. Killed. Because I didn’t do anything to help.
How many families are going into hiding right now?
How many will die before the Aurora Collective can stop it?
What other hell is the Syndicate planning for dragonkind?
These are details we need to know.
I watch Luke’s back as he navigates ahead, steady, capable, already planning our next steps. He’s going to make this choice, regardless of what I want to do, and I know what he’ll decide: extraction, safety, let Aurora handle it.
The logical choice. The smart choice.
But every instinct screams it’s the wrong choice.
We need more information.
My mind starts calculating possibilities.
The facility is maybe three miles southwest. I memorized the route during the transport, could retrace it.
The Syndicate will be focused on tomb operations, not facility security.
The rest are probably out in the field, looking for me; they’d never expect me to go back there.
Besides, my hybrid nature makes me valuable alive.
If caught, they won’t kill me immediately.
That’s not comfort. That’s just different horror.
But if I’m not caught, if I can get in quietly… I could find out more about the ritual: exact timing, location, method. Find weaknesses in their operation that Aurora could exploit. Maybe even sabotage equipment, delay the timeline.
The risks flood my thoughts. I could die. Could be captured and tortured. Could trigger the very catastrophe I’m trying to prevent.
But doing nothing—hiding behind Luke while others suffer—feels worse than any of those outcomes.
I’ve spent my whole life hiding what I am. Maybe it’s time to do something useful.
We reach a small clearing with a stream; clear water, relatively flat ground. Perfect for a rest stop.
“We’ll rest here,” Luke announces. “Eat, hydrate, then push the last stretch.”
He drops his pack, pulls out our remaining rations: compact bars, water purification tablets. He divides them precisely, hands me my share.
“Eat,” he says. “You’ll need the energy.”
I take the ration mechanically, my mind already three steps ahead, planning.
Luke studies my face. “You’re quiet.”
I force a smile. “Just tired.”
He doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t push the issue.
After scanning our surroundings, Luke makes a decision.
“Stay here. I’m going to scout the perimeter, see if I can supplement rations.”
My pulse kicks up. “You’re leaving?”
“Thirty minutes; forty max,” he says. “There are berry bushes and possibly game trails nearby. We need calories.”
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
Luke hesitates, something in my tone clearly not sitting right with him.
“Don’t wander. Stay within the clearing.”
“I will.”
He holds my gaze for a few seconds, searching for… something. Reassurance, maybe. I keep my expression neutral, open, even as his proximity makes my skin flush warm. Those intense eyes, the strength in his jawline… I force myself to look away before he reads the truth on my face.
Finally, he nods. “Thirty minutes.”
Then he’s gone, disappearing into the treeline with that silent, confident ease.
I count to sixty after he vanishes, making sure he’s truly gone. Then I move.
I grab the small pack I’ve been carrying and check its contents: knife, compact first-aid kit, the stolen Syndicate radio Luke took from the transport. I leave most of the supplies behind; if things go well, I won’t need them. If they don’t— I’m not going to think about that.
I grab a scrap of paper and pen from the emergency kit and scrawl a quick note:
Luke—
I’m sorry. I can’t sit back while others die because I did nothing.
If I don’t make it back, tell my mother I love her.
And tell her you tried to stop me.
—E
I weigh the note in my hand, almost don’t leave it. But he deserves to know I chose this. That it’s not his failure. I set it on his pack where he’ll find it immediately.
Standing at the edge of the clearing, I look back once. Our supplies are arranged with military precision. Evidence of his care, his competence, his absolute refusal to let anything happen to me.
Part of me wants to stay. To be safe. To let him protect me the way he’s been trying to.
But the larger part—the part that’s Vanya’s daughter, the part that survived three days in hell—knows I have to do this.
He’ll be furious. Frantic. He might never forgive me.
But I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try.
I turn southwest and start jogging. I don’t look back again.
Navigating by memory and instinct, I retrace the route from clearing to lodge, then lodge to the facility. Without Luke, the forest feels different. Bigger. More hostile. Every snapped twig makes me freeze; every distant sound could be pursuit.
My dragon stirs weakly inside me, still suppressed, but the closer I get to the facility, the more I feel it trying to surface.
That’s when I realize the tomb’s power drain is directional, strongest near the source. Moving away from the heart of the mountains has my magic slowly returning. That might be why it sparked when I was being held in custody.
Not full strength, but enough to feel the difference. A tiny flame sparks between my fingers, flickers, holds for three seconds, dies.
Progress.
As I continue, I realize I’m getting stronger. Strong enough to use my magic. I weave a small masking spell, weak, but enough to hide me. It’ll keep Luke off my track if he’s following me, and maybe help me get into the facility.
As I move, I refine my approach.
I’ll start with reconnaissance. Get close enough to observe without being detected. The facility is built into the mountain. I remember steel buildings, concrete floors, exposed rock. The Syndicate’s focus will be on tomb operations; facility security might be lighter.
Then I’ll try to gain access. I heard from Elena and Caleb that my bloodline opened doors before when she accessed the Heartstone’s vault. Maybe Rossewyn heritage can bypass Syndicate security too…magical locks keyed to dragon bloodlines. It’s a gamble. But everything about this is a gamble.
Once I’m in—if I get in—I’ll gather intelligence. I don’t need to sabotage anything or confront anyone. Just listen. Observe. Memorize. Get proof of what they’re planning. Dates, methods, targets. Then get out before anyone realizes I was there.
Which would lead to the final step: escape. Retrace my route back to the extraction point. Luke will be there. Furious, but there. And I’ll have intelligence that saves lives.
It has to be worth the risk. It has to be.
An hour of hard hiking brings me within sight of the compound. I crouch in the treeline, studying the layout. The place looks different in the light of day; a mound of steel and concrete jutting from the mountainside, utilitarian and cold.
The perimeter fence hums with magical reinforcement, but there are fewer guards than I expected; most personnel must be at the tomb site, or out searching for me, as I expected. Lights burn in only a few sections; the rest remain dark and quiet.
I settle in to wait, monitoring patrol patterns. Two guards at the main entrance, rotating every thirty minutes. A surveillance drone sweeps the eastern perimeter at regular intervals. The loading bay has a single guard, smoking a cigarette, looking utterly bored.
As minutes drag by, I notice a shift change. The bored guard at the loading bay stamps out his cigarette and heads inside. For three minutes, the post stands empty.
My opening.
I dart from the treeline, heart pounding against my ribs as I breach the outskirts, convinced I’m going to run into a patrol at any moment.
The masking spell distorts the air around me; not invisibility, but enough to blur my form against the landscape.
Twenty yards of exposed ground feels like twenty miles.
After navigating silently through the deserted compound, I reach a side entrance: maintenance access, steel door with an electronic lock. I press my palm against the scanner, holding my breath.
Nothing happens.
I try again, focusing what little magic I’ve regained, thinking of the blood that connects me to the dragons who built this place.
For three agonizing seconds, nothing.
Then the lock clicks. Green light, access granted.
Yes!
My Rossewyn blood recognized? Or something else helping me? Luke said something helped him escape; maybe it’s helping me too. I don’t have time to question it. I slip inside just as voices approach from down the corridor.