Chapter 21 Finlay
Finlay
I’m in the Sovereign nest, sitting in Klauth’s private study, meeting with both him and Thauglor to prepare for stepping into the position of headmaster for the next two months while they focus on guarding the eggs.
The room smells of old leather and dragon—a scent I’ve grown accustomed to over the centuries but never quite comfortable with.
“As one of the most powerful shifters on campus, it would be best for you to take control of the school during our absence,” Thauglor says as he passes me his leather-bound planner across the massive oak desk. His sapphire eyes meet mine with absolute trust, which makes my chest tight.
I open it slowly and look over the weekly checks and meetings he has scheduled with the staff—pages and pages of meticulous notes in his precise handwriting.
He has a daily schedule where he walks the entire campus to check on the different departments personally.
“This will be very helpful,” I say, already mentally cataloging the responsibilities I’m about to inherit.
I continue to flip through the planner, running my finger down lists and schedules, looking to see if there’s anything I need to ask him about before he leaves. The sheer volume of administrative work is staggering.
Thauglor’s eyes suddenly shift to his dragon’s slitted sapphire gaze without warning, and I watch in fascination as the bone plates move visibly in his face, pushing forward beneath his skin. “That can’t be good. What’s happening, Klauth?”
We both turn to watch Thauglor as his eyes move left to right rapidly, as if he’s reading something invisible to us. His expression goes distant, vacant; his breathing is shallow.
“Raven’s dragon...” he says, and his vision remains unfocused, as if he’s looking through someone else’s eyes entirely.
“Something’s wrong. Questions about bloodlines and succession.
Something... Something is going on...” His words come out disjointed, fragmented, like he’s only catching pieces of a conversation.
“I think Raven’s dragoness is speaking directly to her father’s dragon,” Klauth observes, leaning forward with obvious concern. “Her dragoness is young, so it’s probably not making complete sense—the connection isn’t fully developed yet.”
Klauth watches his old friend intently as sweat beads on Thauglor’s temples from the effort of trying to maintain the long-distance connection across thousands of miles of ocean.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” I ask, genuine concern flooding through me about what’s happening to my mate who is almost ten hours of flight away from us. My phoenix stirs restlessly, wanting to go to her.
We watch Thauglor’s head turn slowly, looking around the room as if seeing things that aren’t there. His eyes remain distant and unfocused as he turns his head from side to side, clearly looking at something in front of him that we can’t perceive.
“The way he’s acting, I think he’s actually seeing through her eyes,” Klauth says with a mix of awe and shock in equal measures.
“It’s a wyrm gift to be able to communicate with your bloodline across long distances like this.
Green dragons can do it within their flights, so it could be genetic heritage too. ”
“But is she okay? Is Raven safe?” I move to stand directly before Thauglor, trying to catch his attention, but his eyes continue moving side to side rapidly, tracking movement I can’t see.
“They tried sedating my baby.” Thauglor finally snaps out of whatever trance he was in and roars with enough force to rattle the windows in their frames. The sound is primal fury given voice.
“Slow down—what happened exactly?” Klauth gets in front of Thauglor quickly and physically stops him from charging toward the door, hands on his shoulders.
“Amadeus tried to sedate both Raven and Corvus. Mina’s training saved them—she recognized the sedatives before consuming enough to be incapacitated.
” His words come fast now, urgent. “There’s some of the drug in Raven’s system, but her dragoness is burning it off during flight with sheer metabolic force. ”
He turns and heads immediately to the war room down the hall, his boots heavy against the stone floor.
He pulls out the massive map of all four continents spread across the table.
“Her dragoness says the winds are with them. Raven is carrying Corvus in flight so she doesn’t have to slow down for his smaller drake.
” Thauglor says, but there’s worry in his tone.
“My mate is drugged and flying at night across the open ocean, essentially alone at this point.” My voice comes out tighter than I intend as I stare at the map, calculating distances. “She then has to fly over the lands of our enemies to make it back into our territory safely.”
I look at the map more carefully and point to the mountain range that separates Blackhaven from the lands we’ve dubbed no-man's-land—the territory Raven scorched when she went to save Thorne. “This is the most dangerous part of the journey.”
“Homing instinct will draw her here to Sovereign,” Klauth says, measuring the distance between where we are and where Raven currently is with his fingers on the map. “This is her birth nest. Dragons always return home when injured or threatened.”
“She claimed the falls in Blackhaven as her lair long before she took over leadership of that flight,” Thauglor counters, shaking his head decisively. “That’s her safe place—her sanctuary. I would bet my last scale that’s where she’s headed.”
I immediately start texting Hemlocke and Keir rapid-fire messages to stock up the cavern by the oasis near the falls. I give them a short rundown of what’s happening and what needs to happen—blankets, food, medical supplies, everything she might need.
“Don’t phoenixes possess the ability to heal others?” Thauglor looks at me with desperate hope in his ancient eyes.
“We do,” I confirm, feeling my phoenix rise closer to the surface at the thought of healing our mate. “With any luck, the feather I gifted Raven is already working—it should burn the toxins out of her system and providing some protection.”
My phone buzzes insistently in my pocket, and I pull it out to see Corvus messaging in the family chat. I set my phone on the table so Klauth and Thauglor can watch the messages appear in real-time.
Feeling sedative effects. Hard to think clearly. Can’t feel it affecting Raven somehow—the bond feels like she’s fighting it off.
Flying fast. Very fast. She’s pushing harder than I’ve ever felt.
Ocean below. Can’t see land yet.
Keir messages next, his words appearing with urgent speed: Solaris’s egg is vibrating harder than usual. Almost violent. Never seen it like this.
“Tell him to get it outside immediately,” Thauglor orders, his voice carrying the authority of a Great Wyrm. “Solaris may hatch sensing Raven in danger or detecting that she’s been drugged through their mate bond. Cursed eggs respond to their mate’s distress.”
Thauglor’s eyes go distant again, that vacant look returning as the connection re-establishes.
He looks around slowly, then down as if seeing through Raven’s eyes as she flies.
Then he looks straight ahead at something only he can perceive.
“Raven’s heading to her lair. I see darkness below, the mountains in the distance. She needs rest. She’s exhausted.”
He double-blinks hard, the connection apparently breaking, and starts heading toward the door with determined purpose when the phone buzzes again with a new message.
Keir’s text appears, and the words make my heart stop: Solaris is free and flying toward no-man's-land. I took him to the edge of Blackhaven territory, like Thauglor said. He hatched, shifted, and took off before I could stop him. He has a head start on any of us.
I stare at the message, processing what it means. Solaris—ancient, powerful, protective—is racing to reach Raven first.
All we can do now is wait and pray that Tiamat protects both Raven and Corvus until help arrives.
But knowing Solaris just hatched after two years of waiting, knowing he’s flying toward his mate with centuries of pent-up devotion and protective fury, I almost pity anyone who tries to stop Raven from reaching safety.
The Western Continent has just made an enemy of an ancient orange dragon, and they don’t even know it yet.
Hours later…
We race to the edge of Blackhaven territory, moving as fast as physically possible through the darkening landscape.
I remain airborne as my phoenix—a living comet of flame streaking across the sky—to act like a lighthouse to guide her home.
The wind rushes past my burning form, and I scan the horizon desperately for any sign of her.
A weak roar I recognize as Raven’s echoes across the mountains, and my heart clenches at how faint it sounds—nothing like her usual powerful call.
Shortly after, a thunderous roar shakes the very air around us with a raw power that makes my flames flicker.
A third roar follows—Corvus is flying under his own power now, and he sounds stronger than Raven does, which terrifies me.
Keir and Hemlocke race around the perimeter of the landing field far below, lighting torches one by one so Raven has a safe, visible place to land in the darkness. The flames create a ring of light against the night.
They breach the mountain pass, and I see Raven’s massive form wavering in the air like a ship in a storm.
Her flight pattern is erratic, unstable.
Her head suddenly drops forward, unconsciousness clearly taking her, and the next thing I know, an enormous orange dragon appears out of nowhere—larger than even Raven—and folds himself protectively around her falling form.