Chapter 16 Raven #2
Titan dwarfs Corvis’s sleek mare by a considerable margin, his massive black form making every other horse look like ponies in comparison.
The problem is immediately apparent—he’s not liking being positioned behind Abraxis and his temperamental stallion.
I can see the tension in Titan’s corded neck muscles as he keeps reaching out with bared teeth, nipping Abraxis’s horse on the hindquarters with sharp, warning bites.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I call out, my voice carrying across the courtyard over the sound of hooves striking stone and leather creaking.
“Everyone looks great!” Klauth yells back, clearly missing the brewing conflict between the stallions.
“That’s not the problem! Titan doesn’t like being behind Abraxis’s horse.” No sooner are the words out of my mouth than Titan lunges forward with a vicious bite, his teeth making contact with a wet smack.
This time, Abraxis’s horse has had enough.
The chestnut stallion explodes into action, his powerful hindquarters bunching as he starts to buck and strike at Titan with iron-shod hooves.
The sound of metal shoes against stone sends sparks flying, and I can smell the sharp scent of fear-sweat from both horses mixing with the dust kicked up by their violent dance.
I use my wings to launch myself out of the way, the black membranes catching air as I land near my mom with barely a sound.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I watch the escalating battle.
Hemlocke rushes in from the stable entrance, his boots pounding against the cobblestones as he tries to reach the fighting stallions.
Abraxis is thrown from his saddle with bone-jarring force, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs.
His horse rears up on hind legs, striking at Titan with deadly intent.
The two stallions are locked in primal combat—ears pinned, nostrils flared, teeth bared in savage displays of dominance.
The metallic tang of blood taints the air, and I can’t help the tears that spring to my eyes.
“Stop fighting!” I yell, my voice cracking with desperation as I move closer despite the danger.
Hemlocke shifts on the spot, his transformation immediate and breathtaking.
His unicorn form is massive and armor-plated, with hide that gleams like polished obsidian.
A large spiraled black horn erupts from his forehead, with a shorter secondary horn just below it.
His eyes burn like molten embers, casting an otherworldly glow, and shadows shift and writhe through his mane and tail like living things.
The sight of him is terrifying and magnificent.
He positions himself between the two stallions with commanding presence, his horns lowered threateningly.
The power radiating from him is palpable, pressing against my skin like heat from a forge.
Both horses immediately cease their fighting, recognizing a superior predator when they see one.
Titan limps off toward the stables, his proud head hanging low, dark blood dripping from several wounds onto the pale stones. Abraxis’s stallion moves to stand protectively by his fallen rider, sides heaving and nostrils still flared with residual aggression.
“Raven, don’t get close to Hemlocke while he’s shifted. Black unicorns are unpredictable,” my father yells from across the courtyard, his voice sharp with warning.
But my gut tells me differently. Something about Hemlocke’s presence feels safe rather than threatening.
“Shhh, big guy. They stopped fighting, and I’m safe.
” I hold my hands up to him, palms open and non-threatening, as he raises his magnificent head and flares his nostrils.
The sound of his breathing is deep and rhythmic, like wind through a cavern. “Thank you for stepping in.”
He lowers his head slowly, with careful deliberation, and presses his velvet-soft nose to my palm.
The contact sends warmth up my arm, and I can feel his breath—surprisingly sweet, like meadow grass—against my skin.
I laugh a little, thinking how surreal this whole situation is.
As a child, I’d dreamed of having a unicorn as a friend, though I’d always imagined the white ones from fairy tales, not this dark, dangerous beauty.
Eventually, Hemlocke calms down and backs away with measured steps before shifting back to human form.
His transformation leaves him slightly unsteady, and he nods in my direction before walking back toward the stables to check on Titan.
I notice how his gait is careful, controlled, as if the shift took something out of him.
“You are friends with a black unicorn?” Mom asks as we watch him disappear into the stable’s shadowed interior. Her voice carries a mixture of amazement and concern.
“Yeah. You taught me not to judge someone by their species alone. He’s shown me nothing but kindness and helped me with Titan.
” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I look down at the ground and my stomach lurches.
Blood is everywhere—bright red droplets and smears painting the cobblestones like abstract art.
Abraxis’s stallion is bleeding from multiple wounds, and the vet is already working on him, her hands moving with practiced efficiency.
Then I remember very few can get close to Titan when he’s injured and defensive.
Fear grips my chest like a vise. I spread my wings wide and take off, flying toward the stables with powerful beats that carry me swiftly across the courtyard.
The blood trail below is enough to make my heart ache with worry.
I land just inside the stable entrance, my boots hitting the packed earth with a soft thud. The familiar scents of hay, leather, and horse surround me, but underneath is the sharp metallic smell of blood. I go running for Titan’s stall, my footsteps echoing in the wooden structure.
It’s then I see Hemlocke, shifted again into his unicorn form.
He’s using his spiraled horn to heal Titan, and I watch in fascination as the wounds slowly seal themselves closed.
Pale blue light emanates from his horn, washing over Titan’s injuries with gentle pulses.
It’s a miracle unfolding before my eyes—flesh knitting together, blood flow stopping, swelling reducing.
When he’s finished, Hemlocke steps back and shifts to human form, immediately swaying on his feet. His face is pale as parchment, and I can see the exhaustion weighing on him like a physical burden. I lunge forward and catch him before he falls, my arms wrapping around his waist to steady him.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, feeling how his body trembles with the effort he’s expended.
I drag him over to a pile of clean hay that smells of summer meadows and help him sit down carefully. “It took a lot out of me.” His hands shake like autumn leaves, and I can hear the exhaustion in his voice.
Looking around frantically, I spot a cooler in the corner. I rush over and grab a juice box, the cardboard container cold against my palm, and bring it to him. He takes a sip and laughs—a sound that’s breathless but genuine.
“Thank you.” His voice is shaky, but there’s warmth in it that makes something flutter in my chest.
“What’s so funny?” I brush his dark hair away from his face, noting how damp it is with perspiration from his efforts.
“You.” He laughs again and takes another sip, the sound echoing softly in the stable. “You befriended a dangerous stallion, then came running to check on him when he’s injured.”
“Of course I did—he’s my friend. And so are you.” I study Hemlocke’s face and see how dull his usually bright eyes have become. The healing clearly took far more from him than he’s letting on.
“You’re a very odd dragon,” he says as he leans back against the wooden wall, his breathing still labored.
“Yeah, well aware.” I smirk and look him over more carefully, noting the pallor of his skin and the slight tremor in his hands. “The juice isn’t enough, is it?”
He lowers his head and shakes it slowly; the movement seeming to cost him effort. “No, it’s not.”
“What do you need?” I tilt my head, studying him as my father’s familiar footsteps approach the back half of the stables.
“He needs blood,” Thauglor says as he enters, his voice matter-of-fact but tinged with concern.
“Oh...” I look between Hemlocke’s exhausted form and Titan, who’s now standing steadier but still bears the scars of the fight. Without hesitation, I walk over to the cooler and find the disposable cups stacked on the side. I grab one; the plastic crinkles loudly in the quiet stable.
I bite my forearm, letting my dragon’s teeth pierce through my flesh with practiced ease. The sharp pain is brief, quickly replaced by the warm sensation of blood flowing. I watch the crimson liquid drip into the cup, filling it halfway before my accelerated healing kicks in and closes the wounds.
I offer Hemlocke my blood without reservation, the cup warm from its contents. “Thank you for healing Titan. This is the least I can do for you.”
He takes the cup hesitantly, his eyes flicking to my father for permission. The uncertainty in his gaze speaks to deeply ingrained protocols about accepting such offerings.
“She offered of her own free will—you may accept it,” Dad grants, his voice carrying the weight of formal permission.
The minute Dad gives his consent, Hemlocke drinks the contents in one swift motion. I can see color returning to his cheeks almost immediately, the dullness leaving his eyes.
“Raven, the only downside of offering him your blood is that his unicorn will sense if you’re in danger and drive him to come to you,” my father explains before leaving the stables, his warning hanging in the air like incense.
I look at Hemlocke, and he does indeed look significantly better than he did moments ago. The tremor has left his hands, and his breathing has steadied. Hesitantly, I get up and walk over to examine Titan more closely.
His front legs are scarred and swollen, the skin puckered where the worst wounds have healed. The sight makes my chest tight with guilt and worry.
“I did all I could for him. Only time will tell if he can be ridden for the processional,” Hemlocke says from behind me, his voice stronger now but still carrying exhaustion.
“If he can’t, he can’t. I’ll figure something out.” The words taste bitter, but I force them out. Slowly, I rub the dried blood off my forearm, feeling the smooth skin where the bite marks have already disappeared. “Get some rest, Hemlocke. I’ll send extra oats and alfalfa for Titan.”
My chest hurts as I look at both of them—one who sacrificed himself trying to protect me after he started the fight, the other who sacrificed himself for the war horse I care about. Either way, my heart feels heavy as a stone.
What’s going to happen if Titan isn’t healed in time for the processional? The question echoes in my mind as I stare at my wounded friend, uncertainty gnawing at my resolve like acid.