“Yes. I sent letters to you, Helly, Kivrin, Alura, and Fallon months ago. Did you receive one?”
Kerrigan shook her head. “No, I’ve never gotten a letter.”
Cyrene sighed. “I figured as much. I’d hoped that you would have gotten them by now, but even if you had, you would not make it in time.”
“Make it in time?” Kerrigan pressed, straightening her spine and preparing for the worst.
“A darkness has come over my homeland. There is a goddess from Domara who is set to kill anyone with magic and wishes to set herself up as ruler of Emporia. I fear, if she succeeds, she will not stop here. This will be a stepping-stone to her appearing in Alandria. I must stop her. And, to do so, I need to use all the resources at my disposal.”
“The Society.” Kerrigan understood immediately.
Cyrene nodded. “I could only reach you. You must convince them to come through the portal. The fate of our world might very well rest in your hands.”
Kerrigan swept her gaze down Cyrene. She was dressed in the black fighting leathers of her people. She looked different in some way. A diamond hung at her throat. Her eyes were full of power and knowledge. She was more certain. As if destiny had touched her.
And Kerrigan knew in that moment that all Cyrene had said was true.
“I will do it.”
“Thank you,” Cyrene said. She smiled fondly at Kerrigan. “It’s so good to see you.”
* * *
A touch of a smile graced Kerrigan’s severe features at the memory.
She had gone to Helly right away. And, two days later, after much debate and a lot of threatening on Kerrigan’s part, they were here. In a whole new world.
Helly hadn’t wanted to bring her along. She wasn’t technically part of the Society. She was just a Dragon Blessed. An orphan—in her mind, if not in name—sent to the Society to help raise and tend to the dragons. After they came of age and joined a proper tribe, many Dragon Blessed went on to have incredible careers.
But Kerrigan had no interest in that. As far as she was concerned, the only troubles she had ever had in her life came from the tribe system. And her father and the Bryonica tribe could kiss her ass. She’d make a name for herself all on her own, thank you very much.
Kerrigan focused on the battle before them as they drew in sharply toward it. She was on the back of Helly’s dragon, Tavry. This was the only way that she had been permitted to come. Just to watch as they took out their enemies.
Tavry joined forces with the other dragons in the skies, and they dive-bombed toward the goddess’s forces. Kerrigan saw the hellish creature just as Tavry breathed fire on it. She had no name for such a thing. A demon. Leathery black skin, enormous wings, and blood-red eyes that were trained on her like she was prey.
The fire barely touched them.
But Tavry had fought many battles. She was not ill-prepared for what was to come. Even if this was a new enemy.
She breathed her flames once more before barrel-rolling in the air. Kerrigan held on with all her might. Tavry came out of the turn and then opened her strong jaw. She clamped down around the beast’s neck. A loud crack sounded, and the rest of the demon’s body dropped out of the sky.
“Good job, Tavry,” Helly said. She glanced back once at Kerrigan. “Holding up, child?”
Kerrigan smiled brilliantly. “Better than ever.”
She watched as the Society slaughtered the opposing forces.
And she knew deep in her soul that this was what she wanted to do.
One day, she would join the skies.
70
The Blood Debt
Malysa’s eyes were as black as night. “How?”
It was only one word. But it cut like a knife.
Cyrene just smiled valiantly. “I invited some friends.”
“You’ll pay for this.”
“Maybe I will. But it was worth it to see you realize that I could beat you.”
“You could never beat me. If I have to kill a hundred dragons, I will do it,” Malysa snarled.
But there was an edge to her voice. As if she had tipped over a precipice. One minute, she had been utterly cool and confident, and the next, she saw a chance of failure. And she plummeted straight into that lingering madness. The same insanity that had manifested in Kael time and time again.
Cyrene had thought that it was what the blood magic did to a person when they had to endure the addiction and withdrawals and murders. But she was starting to wonder if that madness had a different source. If Malysa’s own illness leeched into those who also stole magic. If she infected them so thoroughly that they lost their mind in turn.
“I will still win this war,” Malysa taunted.
She stepped forward. The darkness growing and growing. Until it encompassed her completely, spreading like a miasma. Trailing across the terrace, covering their feet and then over the balcony wall and out farther and farther toward the dragons. It was coating everything. As if she could suck them all into her vortex.
Cyrene couldn’t let this happen. “You won’t win. Not while I still live.”
Then she touched the diamond at her throat and threw a weave of elements toward Malysa. She avoided the hit with ease, but it slowed her magic for just a second. That was enough for Cyrene.
“You could have been so much more,” Malysa said. “And now, you’re just getting on my nerves.”
She cast out her net. Not just the inky darkness, but also a thrust of something Cyrene had never seen before. It was practically solid with black. Death. That was what it was. And Cyrene was not fast enough to evade it. She hadn’t even seen it coming.
For a second, Cyrene just stood there and waited. This was the moment. If she had to sacrifice herself to save her army, then so be it. She didn’t have enough time to pull up a shield. And she wasn’t certain it would even work. There was no time to investigate the weave because this thing wasn’t made from Doma magic. It was blood magic—dark, twisted, and evil.
And it would kill her.
She let her eyes flutter closed the second before it reached her.
Said good-bye to the world all around her.
Then something collided with her body. Something solid. Something decidedly human.
Cyrene’s eyes flew open as Avoca shoved her out of the way of Malysa’s blast. Her ice-white blades were up and took the brunt of the attack. The instant they touched her knives, the blades turned black. As if they had been stained with a dye.
Cyrene collapsed to the ground a few feet from where she had been standing. Avoca fell down next to her. Her blades skittered out of her hands, falling far away from where she now lay on the ground.
And then Cyrene felt it.
The bond.
As it snapped.
Cyrene shrieked in pain and anguish.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she gasped out, clutching her side as if it were a physical wound.
Losing Avoca was like someone had sliced open her stomach and disemboweled her. It hadn’t felt like this any other time the bond was broken. Because she had chosen Avoca. It was what she had wanted.
After everything they had been through, this couldn’t be how it ended. The bond was permanent. It was there forever. The entire time Avoca had been in a coma, the bond had always been the reassurance that Avoca was still with them. It had always shown Cyrene that there was just a problem in reaching her. She wasn’t dead.