Chapter 89
MYRA
Theenah dabbed a cold, wet cloth against Myra’s forehead.
"You need to take a break," Theenah whispered.
Myra didn’t know how much time had passed since she had sat down beside Dani. Her back and knees ached from kneeling for so long, but she didn’t dare voice a complaint. Not when Dani was lying on the ground, her body still covered in sweat as she fought against the encroaching fever.
Myra poured drop after drop of her power into Dani, doing whatever she could to quell her pain. But pain was the hardest emotion to dull, and Dani’s was endless.
"I’m fine," Myra said.
"Have you eaten anything? I haven’t even seen you drink water. You will be no help to her if you pass out," Theenah warned.
When Myra still didn’t move, the healer groaned. "Do not make me drag you out of this tent."
Dropping her shoulders in defeat, Myra uncurled her fingers from around Dani’s hand. She had been holding it for so long that her knuckles cracked from the movement. Flexing her fingers, she stood, her knees creaking. Myra wobbled, her legs weak, and the healer quickly caught her by the elbow.
"Come on," Theenah urged. "Let’s get you something to eat. Danisinia is resting. You should too."
Despite Myra’s protests, they strolled out of the tent. Myra squinted at the sky and held up her hand to block the sun. Several hours had passed, and the sun was now setting, its golden rays blinding.
She scanned the camp and frowned.
Within a few hours, nightfall would soak the land. Yet the battle still persisted.
She returned her attention to the sky, sending a prayer to the gods. As she did, a streak of vibrant color filled the space beyond the trees, as if the sky was on fire.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Shit. This can’t be good," Moris said, jumping to his feet. Other soldiers followed suit, their attention fixed on the sky.
A dark shadow swirled above the foliage. Distorted by the foliage, its massive form plunged the camp into darkness.
"Is that a drakonis?" Myra asked, struggling to identify the creature.
"No," Moris said, snatching his sword from the ground.
"Then what was that?"
"A dragon."
"Did those bastards fuck with your head, too?" Sylvia asked, propping a hand on their hip. "Because I swore you just said that thing was a dragon."
"I did," Moris confirmed, shoving his sword back into its sheath. He stood and looked around at the confused faces staring back at him. His mouth formed a small O when he realized no one understood what he was saying.
Moris scratched the back of his head. "Right, none of you know. Dragons exist. In fact, Graeson is one."
"I’m sorry. He’s what?" Myra asked, her jaw hanging open.
Moris exhaled a heavy groan. "Look, I don’t have the time to explain," he said, running backward. "Graeson can shift into a dragon. It’s how we got here before you all. But that’s not Graeson."
"What do you mean that’s not Graeson?" Myra shrieked.
"He’s too big!" Moris shouted over his shoulder before taking off.
Sylvia ran after him, shouting aimlessly at him. But Moris didn’t stop. His wings beat even faster as he wove through the trees and headed toward the capital.
Myra’s knees shook beneath her as Moris' words sank in.
Graeson was a dragon.
But if that wasn’t Graeson, who was it?