Chapter 21
ESME
Ipush the window open, the cold night air rushing in and snaking under my shirt. The sensation draws goosebumps across my skin, but it's not just the temperature that causes them. It's what I see in the silvered darkness beyond the village square.
“Dayn,” I whisper, not taking my eyes off the spectral shapes drifting between the buildings. “I wish you could see this.”
I feel him move behind me, his chest pressing against my back as he leans over my shoulder. His hand settles on my waist, warm and steady.
“Where?” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear.
The translucent figures move with an ethereal grace through the square, their forms barely more substantial than the moonlight itself.
There are five of them—tall, elongated silhouettes with the unmistakable proud carriage of dragons in humanoid form.
They wear what appears to be ancient ceremonial armor, the ghostly metal catching the moonlight in impossible ways.
“They're right there,” I say, pointing. “Dragon spirits. Five of them.”
Dayn's grip on my waist strengthens, and his voice suddenly tightens. “I see them too.”
I whirl to look at him. “What?”
“I can see them because I'm touching you,” he admits, his voice dropping lower. “It’s a side-effect of the bond. I realized it back at Darkbirch.”
I gaze at him. “You never mentioned this?”
Dayn’s mouth curves. “We haven’t exactly had much ‘quality time’ together.
I discovered it after your first Ide trial.
You were sleeping—exhausted, nearly empty.
I came into your room. I wanted to see if the Ide had left anything of you behind.
I touched your cheek, and suddenly I was seeing Darkbirch spirits… including Helena.”
“Wait, Helena?” I frown, something suddenly making no sense at all. I try to piece the recent timeline together. After my first Ide trial… That was after Brynn and I saw Helena violently vanish, seemingly sucked into some strange void. Yet Dayn saw her after that?
“What was she doing?” I ask.
“She looked like she was running away from something. Like she was being chased.” His frown deepens, matching mine as he recalls.
My breath catches. “That is… strange.” What was going on with that woman? I guess now’s not the time to try to figure it out, but I file it on my mental shelf to unpack later.
I turn back to face the drifting dragon ghosts in the square. Dayn’s hands still firmly on me, I watch as one of the spirits pauses, turning its head as if it senses our observation.
“It's looking at us,” I whisper.
The spirit raises a translucent hand, beckoning with elegant, elongated fingers.
“Huh,” I murmur. “Seems he wants to meet us. Do you… recognize any of them?”
Dayn shakes his head. “No. Looks like they’re from even before my time.”
“But seems they sensed you,” I say. “And apparently want a rendezvous. So… we’ll go and see them?”
He nods. “Of course.”
We dress quickly, moving with the silent efficiency of people accustomed to midnight emergencies. I lace my boots while Dayn pulls on his tunic, and I keep stealing glances out the window to ensure the spirits haven't vanished.
Then we slip out of the inn, the night air wrapping around us. Dayn’s hand finds me, his strong fingers threading through mine.
I glance down at our joined hands and flick him a look. “You planning to keep hold of me all night?”
“Mm,” he says. “Until further notice.”
The spirits have been waiting at the edge of the square, but as we approach, they begin to shift, gliding toward the eastern part of the village.
I exchange a look with Dayn, and he nods.
We follow them. They lead us away from the village center and toward a narrow path I hadn't noticed during our earlier search.
The path winds between two weathered stone cottages, then narrows further, becoming little more than a goat track that hugs the base of the mountain.
Roots and rocks make the footing treacherous in the darkness, but Dayn casts a soft glow of light with his free hand, providing just enough illumination to guide our steps.
After several minutes, the path opens into a small, hidden clearing nestled against the mountain face. It's a pocket of space that seems forgotten by time.
“Look,” I breathe, pointing to the far side of the clearing.
There, partially obscured by a thick coating of moss and lichen, is what appears to be a massive stone…
doorway. Carved directly into the mountain.
The stone around it is worked with intricate patterns that have been weathered almost smooth by time, but at its center, gleaming faintly in Dayn’s light, is what we've been searching for all day: a dragon rune.
“A secret entrance?” I murmur. “This sure beats searching for rune fragments.”
The rune marking is elegant and ancient, three interlocking triangles whose lines seem to shift when viewed from different angles.
“They led us right to it,” Dayn muses, turning to look at the spirits who hover at the edge of the clearing, their forms more distinct now, as if proximity to this place strengthens them.
They must have noticed us searching during the day and, for some reason, decided to reach out to me and help.
I step toward them, Dayn's hand still firmly in mine. “Thank you,” I project. “We've been looking for this.”
The spirits remain motionless, their featureless faces turned toward us. They don't react to my words, and I realize belatedly that they likely don't understand modern language.
Then, unexpectedly, one of the spirits moves forward. He’s taller than the others, with a regal bearing that seems to command even the air around him. He stops before Dayn, and for a moment, the clearing falls into a silence so complete I can hear my own heartbeat.
The spirit's mouth opens, and a sound emerges—not English, not any language I recognize. It's ancient and fluid, syllables flowing into one another like water over stone.
Dayn pauses beside me, his hand tightening a fraction around mine.
“What?” I whisper, watching his expression. “What did he say?”
He doesn’t reply. His attention is wholly claimed by the spirit, his face gone very still in that particular way it does when something reaches past all his defenses. A faint line forms between his eyebrows.
The spirit says something more, then steps back to rejoin the others. As one, they begin to fade, their luminescence dimming until they're nothing more than wisps of light that dissipate into the night air.
And then they're gone, leaving us alone in the clearing with only the stars to witness whatever just happened.
“Dayn,” I say softly. “What did he say?”
He swallows, his eyes still fixed on the spot where the spirits vanished.
“He spoke in First Tongue, the original dragon language,” he replies at last, his voice rougher. “He greeted us. As if we were something he was familiar with. As though this”—his thumb slides over my knuckles—“were nothing unusual. Then… he named us.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“He used a word for two forces,” he says slowly, “that meet and alter the course of what surrounds them.” His eyes find mine. “It’s used of rivers. When they join and the land has to change around the new water.”
The words settle between us. The clearing is so quiet I can almost hear our heartbeats.
“These spirits…” Dayn continues after a moment, glancing back at the place they stood. “They’re older than the Blood Wars. Older than the first dividing, before even mages split into factions.”
His mouth shifts faintly. I follow his gaze to the empty air, trying to imagine a world in which what we are would pass without remark. Before the divides hardened into unending hate.
He looks back to me. “He said it’s important we remain thaevar.”
The word hangs there, unfamiliar and heavy.
“Paired,” he adds quietly.
“Oh,” I murmur. There’s a long beat. “Did he explain why?”
“He didn’t. But I think we both know the answer.”
Dayn’s response sits in the quiet.
I draw a slow breath. Maybe we do know. But there’s still so much I don’t understand about this… union. How could it ever truly make a difference—the kind of difference we’d need to settle every rift—even if we completed it?
But I suppose I don’t need that answer yet.
I can’t help but think, At least some dragons approve of us.
Then I slowly turn toward the doorway, clearing my throat. “I guess we should get to work… I assume it’s not going to open itself.”