The queen wanted to execute him. The people cried out that he was blessed by the fire god, a usurper who would one day try to steal the throne, a curse upon their people. But Xander stood before them, their crown prince, their future king, and ordered they step down. Their ruler was only five years old, but they recognized the authority in his tone, one he’d never used before. A child had grown into a man in a single second, his youth dying with his father.
Rafe was moved to the royal quarters after that, to a room beside Xander’s. But those few seconds before the dragon’s call—there in the servant quarters, nestled between his parents—were the last few seconds when he ever felt as though he belonged.
A dragon had once stolen everything from him.
And I’ll be damned if I let it happen again.
He dove, zipping through the channel, plummeting beneath the sky bridge to meet the beast head-on. In the narrower space between the two floating isles, he’d have the best shot at slowing the creature down. Rafe’s wings were nimble and swift, but the dragon’s were wide and cumbersome in the tight space, made for gliding rather than agility.
The beast acted quickly.
Flames shot from its mouth, barreling toward Rafe, but he cut to the left, moving out of the way just in time. The heat blasted into his side, slightly painful as the fire flew past, but he ignored the sting, flattening his wings to build speed as he plummeted underneath the creature. He then flared his wings wide, letting them catch the wind and flip him in midair so he stopped beneath the belly of the dragon, the perfect place to strike.
He shoved his twin swords into the scales, but the steel barely pierced the tough hide. Before he had time to try again, a claw slashed at his vulnerable wing. Rafe pumped once, twice, narrowly escaping as he twisted around the creature’s body, staying close despite the suffocating heat, because it was the safest place to be.
There was a reason the ravens had their own house, separate from the other songbirds. A reason theirs was called the House of Whispers. When they crooned to their patron god, Taetanos, god of death, he answered. Not to them, but to their foe. He sent shadows into their enemy’s mind, a dark fog meant to distract and confuse, to disorient. Not every raven had the gift—only the greatest warriors did—but Rafe was one of the lucky few.
He wasn’t sure it would work with a dragon.
But he had to try.
He took a deep, strangled breath and released his raven cry. The ethereal sound carried across the wind, otherworldly as it echoed through the narrow space, filling the channel with its undercurrent of power, a glittering of dark shadows.
A ripple coursed through the dragon’s scales and a screech tore up its throat. Its head whipped back and forth, throwing its body off balance. The edge of a leathery wing caught on a channel wall, and before Rafe realized what was happening, the dragon slammed into the cliff, rolling with the speed of the collision, crashing into stone and sending bits of it flying.
Rafe dropped as quickly as he could, searching for cover, but even he couldn’t outmaneuver the debris cascading around him. He dodged a boulder only to be hit by a pebble landing squarely on his forehead, causing a blinding flash of pain. Within moments, the confusion cleared, but it was too late. The dragon beat its vast wings, lifting its body swiftly through the channel and into the open air above the sky bridge. Then it looked down, red eyes even more enraged, as it released a blast of flames at Rafe’s head.
He dove beneath an outcropping of rock, but wasn’t fast enough. A hiss came unbidden to his lips as his primary feathers, coated with flame, got singed. Another river of fire rushed past him, bringing beads of sweat to his brow. Rafe ruffled his wings, trying to put out the fire, but the burning wouldn’t stop. He kicked off the wall, gazing up, but all he saw was another blast of orange that drove him under the canopy once more.
How do I get out of this?
How do I get out of this?
Think, Rafe. Think.
He peeked around the edge. The dragon sat on the lip of the sky bridge, scanning for a sign of its enemy along the cliffs. Those massive wings were folded. Sharp claws gripped the crystal walls. A long, spiky tail slithered in the breeze.
Rafe turned his attention to the cliffs on either side of the channel. He was no more than fifty feet below the edge, a quick trip if he could steal a second of flight unnoticed. He’d only have one shot, one chance.
After taking a long, even breath, Rafe released his raven cry again.
Without looking, he flapped his wings, surging up and out of his hiding spot, into open air. The dragon growled, but Rafe didn’t have time to look, to wonder, to question. The edge was thirty feet, now fifteen, now ten, now—
A wave of fire engulfed him.
All he could see was bright light.
All he could hear was the crackle of flames.
All he could feel was pain.
Then more pain as a claw reached through the fire, wrapping around his torso like a vise, squeezing tightly. One sharp talon sliced through his abdomen. The flames disappeared, but they were replaced with bright sparks as his head slammed down against a hard surface, once, twice. Rafe screamed as the bones in his wings were crunched. The dragon tossed him to the side, and he rolled, bouncing over stone, muscles lacking the strength to resist. He came to a stop with his cheek against the ground and blinked.
A fuzzy view of the cliffs slipped into and out of view.
He couldn’t move. Not even as he heard the roar, the flapping of wings, the deep breath of the dragon in its final killing strike. Rafe remained facedown, gazing through the crystal stones of the sky bridge at the air and fog below, with only one thought in his mind. I’m sorry I failed you, brother.
His vision began to flicker and fade. For a moment, he thought he saw the flutter of ivory wings, then consciousness slipped through his fingers—gone.
5
Lyana
Lyana felt the raven’s scream all the way to her core, as though a fist had taken hold of her insides and yanked, ripping everything out of place.
She’d never heard such anguish, such pain.
She’d never seen such bravery.
Before her mind could catch up with her instincts, she spread her wings and jumped, diving through the mouth of the cave, leaving Cassi no chance to stop her.
“What are you doing?” her friend shouted, panic in her voice.
Lyana didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t know what she was doing—she just knew she had to do something, anything. After hiding in the shadows, hearing those cries, catching only glimpses of the battle raging outside, she couldn’t sit still any longer. She soared through the channel, up and over the edge of the sky bridge, sneaking up behind the dragon before the beast even noticed she was there. It stood over the fallen raven with its neck pulled back, bubbling with unreleased fire, and its wings spread into a span probably five times her own.
Lyana gasped, trapping the sound within her lips as she stared in awe of the creature. Sure, she’d learned of them. She'd read the reports with her brother, sat in meetings with her father. She’d heard the sightings had become more frequent, heard that the fire god’s strength appeared to be growing. Still, reading something and seeing it with her own eyes were two very different things.
Was this what waited beneath the Sea of Mist?