Chapter 3 #2
"Sydney," Ginnie said softly, her voice steady but laced with a sudden, haunting intensity. "Go back to what you said before. You couldn’t see his spirit at all? Even when you threw everything you and Kara had at the bond? Is that right?"
Sydney nodded, swallowing the lump of dry fear in her throat. "Nothing. It was like reaching into a void. But he’s alive. I know he’s alive because I felt the fire, and Kara felt Aodhan. If he were dead, the King would be gone, right?"
"Exactly," Ginnie said. Looking from Sydney to Carrick, her expression hardened, a sure sign that she had come to a grim realization.
"That doesn't make sense. If a Dragon Guardsman is breathing, his life essence leaves a signature.
It vibrates through the universe, especially to his Mate.
You should have at least felt a faint, distant hum. But you felt nothing at all, right?"
As Sydney nodded, Carrick’s gaze snapped to his Mate. “I know that look,” he deadpanned. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted just a bit as he added, “It’s the look you get when you’re untangling a dark, unnatural knot. What are you seeing, A ghràidh?"
Ginnie paused. Syd could already feel that the weight of her next words would anchor the room.
"If he's alive and you can't see his spirit, then somebody isn't hiding Garrett's body." Dropping to a harsh whisper, she kept right on going. "They're hiding his soul."
The words felt like a physical drop in temperature. Sydney stared at the Necromancer, the phantom frost she had felt in her chest suddenly returning.
"Think about what you just witnessed with Aodhan," Ginnie pressed on, looking directly at Sydney. "You felt him faintly, but only after Garrett broke through to shout that warning.”
Looking at her Mate, she continued, “This isn't ordinary concealment, Carrick. They haven't just thrown him in a dungeon or cloaked him with standard shitty camouflage Magic. This is metaphysical imprisonment. They have bound his very soul, and they've bound his Dragon King right alongside it."
Carrick didn't answer immediately. He didn't need to. The grim set of his jaw told Sydney everything she needed to know. They weren't dealing with a rogue faction or a standard enemy force anymore.
They were dealing with something far above the usual bad guy pay grade. They were faced with a Being who had the power to cage a god.
The realization that Garrett’s soul was bound in a metaphysical cage sent a sickening shudder through Sydney’s core. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating.
Bound. Caged. Wandering in the dark.
The word wandering struck a chord deep inside her mind, vibrating against a memory she had tried to lock away.
Images of the Hall of Knowledge flashed in her mind’s eye.
The smell of ancient parchment, the majesty of the Tome, and the cryptic lines she had uncovered about The Special One and the Wandering Dragon.
She had thought it was old history. She had assumed Shavon sent her there to understand the past, to learn about the people who had walked this brutal path before her.
“Read it again,” Kara flatly said.
“Still being bossy, I see,” Sydney teased, trying and failing to lighten the mood.
“Not bossy… Insistent… Serious…” The Dragon Queen was practically vibrating with a sudden, sharp clarity. “Sydney.” Her tone had softened a bit but was still adamant. “Read the words again.”
“Duh, I don’t have the Tome.”
The instant she said the words, she whispered, “duh,” to herself, then added, “It’s burned into my memory. How could I forget?”
Closing her eyes, she forced her mind back to the ancient text.
She went past everything she’d found in the first two weeks, mentally thumbed through the side texts that didn’t pertain to the moment, and finally found one of the very last passages she’d uncovered before leaving the Hall of Knowledge.
“The Special One shall walk the path of embers, while the Wandering Dragon is cast into the Void, tethered but untraceable, a King without a throne, a heart without a beat...”
Sydney’s eyes snapped open. A cold sweat broke out across her neck.
“Sydney?” Ginnie asked, her hand resting gently on the young woman's arm. “What is it? What did you just think of?”
“The prophecy,” Sydney whispered, her voice trembling as the pieces shifted in her mind. “In the Hall of Knowledge. I thought it was a historical account. I thought the 'Wandering Dragon' was just a title for someone from the ancient lineages. But it’s not.”
Carrick stepped closer, his intense, warrior focus locking onto her, even as his hand gently rested on her shoulder, sending wave after wave of healing, calming Magic to her. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not past tense, Carrick.” She looked up at him, hoping he saw the conviction in her eyes.
“It’s happening now.” The terrifying truth clicked into place as she uttered every word.
“Garrett isn't just missing. His soul is wandering. Aodhan has hidden them both so deep inside the folds of their own fractured consciousness to keep the enemy from destroying them completely. They are tethered to this world, but untraceable.”
Gaze dancing between Carrick and Ginnie, the sheer scale of the prophecy crashed down upon her shoulders.
“The Wandering Dragon isn't a physical description of a lost warrior,” Sydney breathed, the suspense tightening like a noose in the room.
“It’s Garrett. His soul is lost in the Void right now.
The prophecy wasn't telling me who came before me... it was warning me about who I have to go save.”
The weight of Sydney’s realization hung in the air, thick and undisputed. Garrett’s soul was wandering the Void, and the ancient Prophecy was unfolding in real-time.
Carrick didn’t argue. He didn’t pace. He simply reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and stared at the dark screen. “When you knocked on the door…”
Voice dropping into a register that made the hairs on Sydney’s arms stand up, he kept going. “I was on the phone with Gunnar.”
Sydney’s breath hitched. Gunnar. Carrick’s brother. She knew his history. Knew the brutal toll his recent captivity had taken on him and knew how rarely he reached out now that he was back.
“Why did he call?” Sydney asked, sensing the sudden shift in the room's gravity.
“He didn't know about Garrett,” Carrick said, looking up, his gaze intensely focused, the elliptical pupils of his Dragon King superimposed over his own.
“He called because of something he felt an hour ago. Ever since he returned, his senses have been hyper-attuned to the dark underbelly of the Realms. He told me he felt a distortion. A sudden, violent tear between the ley lines, dripping with old sorcery.”
Ginnie moved closer, her eyes wide. “What kind of sorcery?”
“He couldn't pin it down completely,” Carrick replied, his jaw tightening.
“But he described it as a suffocating, static pulse. Like an ancient cage slamming shut, instantly choking out a massive font of light. He thought it was a localized remnant from the day of his escape flaring back to life. It freaked him out enough to break his silence and call me.”
Sydney felt a cold spark ignite in her chest. An ancient cage slamming shut.
Inside her mind, Kara let out a low, predatory growl that echoed through Sydney's skull. The Dragon Queen recognized the pattern.
“Gunnar felt the cage slam shut,” Sydney whispered, the timeline clicking together with terrifying precision. “And less than an hour later, the pressure built up so much that Garrett used every ounce of his remaining strength to break through the barrier and tell me to run.”
Carrick slowly nodded, the grim, lethal edge returning to his features. He looked at Ginnie, then back to Sydney.
“There are no coincidences,” the legendary Elder stated, reciting the first, most sacred rule of the Dragon Guard motto. The words echoed in the quiet room.
The pieces of the puzzle that the Universe had put into place were actively shifting, locking together like the gears of a massive, hidden machine. Gunnar’s sudden call. Sydney’s agonizing arrival. Garrett’s desperate, fiery warning. It wasn't a series of random mishaps.
The Universe was moving its pieces onto the board. And the game had officially begun.
“Alright,” Carrick said, his voice instantly dropping into the flat, unyielding tone of a commander issuing orders.
“Here’s how this goes. Ginnie, please get the perimeter wards locked down to maximum.
Sydney, you stay inside this house, under total concealment.
You don't step outside. You don't reach through the bond.
You don't breathe loud enough for the realm to hear you.”
Sydney blinked. A cold disbelief cut through her exhaustion. “Excuse me?”
“You look like hell, Syd,” Carrick said, stepping into her space, his massive frame deliberately imposing.
He wasn't doing it to assert dominance. Carrick would never do that to her, or anyone. It wasn’t his style. He was making the calculated maneuver of a seasoned Guardsman who was protecting a high-value asset.
Sydney knew what was happening, and appreciated his concern… But she was also getting madder by the minute.
Then he continued, “You just nearly collapsed on my floor. Your lungs are still burning. I can feel it from here. More importantly, Garrett didn't scream for help… He screamed for you to run. His tactical brain was working even while his soul was caged. He knows you are the target now. My job is to keep the target alive while we hunt down Gunnar’s lead.”
Sydney stared at him. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She loved the man before her with all her heart. He was the only grandfather she’d ever known. He was her mentor, a true role model…
But in that moment, she wanted to kick him in the shin.
The residual tremors in her hands vanished, replaced by a sudden, absolute stillness. The soft, sly smile she usually wore to deflect tension was completely gone.
Slowly, the Special One stood up.