Chapter 53
Two nights. We had two nights before we marched as a military force to Mageia. Two nights to ready ourselves for battle against Tyria’s army.
Against her.
The past months had gone by in a relentless blur. It felt like my life only truly began the day I walked into that Great Hall for initiation. So much had changed. I had changed. I was no longer the weak, pitiful girl from Caydean. No longer the girl who came from nothing.
My knees were no longer pressed into the dirt, watching my home burn to the ground. My wrists weren’t bound in ropes. My life wasn’t shackled in iron anymore.
And she no longer held power over me.
Fallon led us up and around the mountains until we reached a three-story structure of thick wooden panels and metal sheeting, built directly into a peak.
Stairs wrapped and twisted around it on the outside decks, connecting each level.
Every floor had its own deck, with the second boasting two.
Warm light shone through the windows, casting silhouettes of villagers moving inside.
High above, Lakota soared, stretching his wings before settling for the night. Other unfamiliar dragons drifted in from the west, likely gathering to prepare for the coming journey.
As we drew closer, I spotted mountain lions as large as River lounging regally at the base of the stairs. Each wore a similar leather harness, suggesting they belonged to earth elementals like Fallon and River.
River hadn’t left Fallon’s side since they returned from Tyria—until she noticed one of those mountain lions on the first-level deck.
She trotted up the steps eagerly. Their tails flicked in sync, their movements playful like a puppy greeting a kitten.
The two of them disappeared together around the corner of the deck.
The group of us trekked up the steep wooden steps. An old sign swayed above the archway with the word Ryfthouse etched into it. The lettering was worn from years of wind and weather. Music drifted out through the cracks in the wood.
Fallon didn’t wait. She pushed through the door without holding it open, striding straight toward the bar in the far-right corner. It was stationed in front of wide-open windows that overlooked the sweeping drop of the mountain below.
“What is this, and why are we just now being introduced to it?” Davis asked, turning in a slow circle as he took in the interior.
The Ryfthouse mirrored the rugged elegance of the Hollow itself—thick timber beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and a stone hearth flickered on the far wall.
Mismatched lanterns and wrought-iron sconces bathed the room in a warm amber glow.
A second set of stairs spiraled up from the middle of the space.
“It’s the Hollow’s version of a tavern,” Rhodes said beside me.
We scattered into the crowd of Hollow Summit’s elementals.
Rhodes laced his fingers through mine and led me up two more flights of stairs until we reached the top level, which was quieter.
Another bar waited in the corner. A bartender stood drying steins behind the counter while an overly friendly woman leaned across the bar, giggling at something he said.
Rhodes pushed open the doors to the third-level deck, and the view took my breath away.
The moon was full tonight, its silver light blanketing the peaks in a haunting glow.
Dragons soared through the air—some slow and graceful, others with urgency in their wings.
Though the sun had long since dipped behind the ridgeline, it still left a faint trace of gold on the mountains, a whisper of its warmth lingering in the higher air.
With the shift in season, even the snow-tipped peaks were beginning to thaw.
“You always know how to find the perfect view,” I said, wrapping my hands around the banister.
“Almost. The views were never perfect until recently.”
I turned toward Rhodes, leaning my hip against the railing. His fingers tapped in time with the music drifting up from inside, his gaze sweeping across the endless peaks. A gentle wind tousled his hair, the silver moonlight painting his features in soft, ethereal light.
“What do you mean?”
He lowered his chin, his soulful gray-blue eyes finding mine. The breeze carried his cashmere sandalwood and vanilla scent, wrapping around me like something warm and familiar.
“I spent over a year escaping to Mageia’s rooftops,” he said, his voice deep.
“Never coming across anyone of value. Until the day I climbed up there and found a girl sitting on my parapet.” He paused, the corners of his mouth curving as he arched a brow.
“She was clutching an almost-empty mug of coffee. Way too late in the afternoon, mind you.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed freely.
“But she was broken,” he went on. “Everything about her—her heart, her mind, her soul. Even her will. I saw it the moment I looked into her hazel eyes.” He paused, the wind catching in his hair, the silver glow of the moon tracing the hard line of his jaw.
“I kept wondering what it was that made her keep going,” he admitted. His eyes flicked to mine, and his thumb drummed once on the railing for a beat. “Because if I could figure that out… maybe I’d know how to find something like that for myself.
“As the days went on, I kept finding her taking space on my rooftop. But each time I saw her, she seemed a little less broken. She started to shine. Just a little more every day. Her smile got bigger. Her laugh got fuller. And no matter what the world threw at her… she kept going.”
The backs of my eyes burned with tears.
Rhodes brushed a loose tendril of hair behind my ear, his touch achingly gentle.
“And then those hazel eyes I’d come to adore turned into the most exquisite crimson red.
That’s when I knew I’d found the Crimson Wraith.
The one who would be my downfall. I’d waited my whole life for the Wraith to appear.
Trained in every way I could to survive long enough to face them—to fall to my knees when the Forgotten Realm demanded it.
“But you, my thorn…” His voice dropped, husky with emotion now. “You have given me the courage I never knew I needed. The courage to fight for the life I deserve.”