Her mouth trembled as she lifted a tiny doll from the chest, barely larger than the palm of her hand. It clicked quietly, tiny joints in the wood allowing the limbs to move. The wings of the little draconian doll hung from the back and a jointed tail swung back and forth. She looked at Ash, tears welling in her eyes. He gently took the toy and laid it back in the box before closing the lid.
Rising to her feet, she quickly left the bedroom, returning to the main room where she stopped, taking deep breaths to regain her composure. Ash followed her out, hesitating before approaching the second doorway. Steeling herself, she started after him. Before she could reach the threshold, he swiftly backed out of the room and grabbed her arm.
“Ash, what—?”
He pulled her back to the main entrance. “Wait here.”
“Why? What’s—?”
“Please.”
She snapped her mouth shut as he strode back into the room. A minute passed, then another while she waited anxiously. Then the air sizzled with coming magic. Black flames erupted in the room, swirling wildly as heat rushed out the doorway. She flinched back, her heart leaping into her throat.
As the flames died out, Ash reappeared in the threshold, unharmed and calm.
“What was that?” she demanded.
He glanced back at the scorched room. “It’s five centuries too late, but they still deserved a proper death rite.”
Her eyes widened. “There were … bodies?”
“Only bones were left.” His eyes shifted to the doorways they hadn’t explored. “I’ll check the rest of the rooms.”
She hurried out onto the balcony, where Zwi waited for them, and stopped at the railing, hugging herself. Her chest ached. After a minute, Ash joined her. He stared up at the dragon statue, sadness shadowing his eyes.
“Were there anymore … ?” she whispered.
He shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick. She swallowed. “This was a stupid idea. When I saw it through Natania’s memories, it looked like the draconians would return anytime. I didn’t think about … I didn’t realize …”
He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She leaned gratefully against his side.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I … I think I needed to see this.”
She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
He contemplated the dragon statue. “All the draconians I’ve known, except my mother, have lived in Asphodel their entire lives. They don’t remember what we were like before … who we once were or where we came from. My mother knew more. Before she died, she told me stories of our history and taught me about draconian values and honor—as much as she knew, anyway. She was young when they brought her to Asphodel.
“I thought I understood who we used to be as a people before Hades destroyed us. But seeing this place … How far have we actually fallen? Further, I think, than any of the draconians I know realize. Further than I realized. Our past … the time when we were a strong, respected caste was so long ago that the sense of what we’ve lost has become so abstract.”
Releasing her, he turned to face the entrance, leaning back against the railing. “But this place is real. A family lived here once. An entire community lived here. Who were they? What were they like? Is there anyone left alive today who knows what kind of daemons the draconians used to be? How will I ever know?” His face hardened. “How much of our culture was lost forever when the people who lived here died?”
“Samael broke the power of the draconians the same way he wants to break the power of every ruling daemon family,” she said in barely more than a whisper. “He won’t stop until he rules all the worlds, will he?”
“I wish I could go back in time,” Ash said, “and tell Nyrtaroth to forget whatever idiot plan he had and just make sure to kill every Hades reaper there was. The worlds would have been better off.”
With one finger, she traced the design on the railing. “I think that was his plan all along. Maahes wanted a weapon no one would dare challenge as insurance against Hades. But Nyrtaroth wanted to use the Sahar. I think he wanted to rid the Underworld of Hades, to make his people safe once and for all. It’s too bad he couldn’t control the Sahar.”
“It’s too bad no one can control it,” Ash said with a sigh. “For a while there, it seemed you could, but it was only a matter of time, I suppose.”
She heaved her own sigh. She was tempted to argue—to say that short of severe emotional trauma, she could control the Sahar—but instead, she closed her eyes and pictured the scar across his abdomen. The power wasn’t worth it. It frightened her that she had to keep reminding herself that the Sahar was too dangerous to ever wield again. Hadn’t murdering dozens of people made enough of an impression on her?
Ash moved over to Zwi and unstrapped their pack. As he pulled it off, the dragon transformed into her smaller form with a rush of black fire. She chittered and wandered through the arched entryway.
“Are we sleeping here?” Piper asked.
“It’s safe and sheltered.”
“I guess it is,” she said reluctantly.
He glanced at her. Understanding softened his gray eyes. “I don’t think they would mind. Their homes are open and spacious. I think they were welcoming to guests.”
She remembered the torches at each balcony from Natania’s memory and smiled in agreement. He held out his hand. She took it, and together they walked back into the draconian dwelling, the first people to call the city home, even if only a temporary one, in five hundred long years.
* * *
Piper stood on the balcony, her hands resting on the stone railing as she gazed upward. Periskios hovered in the dark sky like a massive full moon, casting bright, silvery light across the mountains. The dragon statue rose in front of the lower curve of the planet, silhouetted against the white and gold orb. The valley was washed in gray and silver, and she missed the orange flicker of welcoming torches from Natania’s memory.
Nothing moved. Not even the slightest touch of a breeze rustled leaves. Just utter silence but for the distant, almost unheard lapping of the lake in the valley far below, as though nature itself respected the sorrow that lingered in the city, hushing all sound but for the mournful water.
She sensed more than heard Ash approach. She glanced back to see him cross the arched threshold. He’d left his weapons inside the dwelling with their gear, and there was just enough light to create enticing definition where his shirt clung to his chest and shoulders. It was strange to see him back in glamour; his face seemed almost unfinished without any dark scales or the horns that normally framed it.
Though they’d slept in each other’s arms, their trip hadn’t been the romantic getaway she’d been anticipating, but she wasn’t bothered by it; being together was enough. He’d switched into glamour so she could sleep with him without his wings getting in the way, his arms around her, her ear against his chest as she listened to his heartbeat.
At one point, the chill in the air had woken her and she’d found herself alone. Ash had been sitting at the entrance of the draconian home, staring outside. She’d watched him, silver light casting soft shadows on his face, then got to her feet. Carrying the blanket with her, she’d sat beside him, tucked the blanket around them, and snuggled up to his side. Beyond the balcony railing, the dragon statue had looked like a dark wraith against Periskios’s pale face, its basalt wings about to spread wide. With Ash’s arm around her and her head on his shoulder, she’d soon slipped back to sleep.
As he joined her at the railing, she wondered how much he’d slept; he didn’t look particularly tired. He turned and slid his arms around her from behind, pulling her back against his chest. She leaned into him, contentment settling into her bones. Why couldn’t it always be like this? So simple, so easy. The quiet between them was impossibly comfortable; no words needed to be spoken. But their brief reprieve couldn’t last. They would soon need to return to the camp. Not only were they expected back,
but Raum would want to know about the city. He and Ash would need to scout this area. If there were draconians living in these mountains, they would know about the lost city too, right? If Ash and Raum intended to find any sign of their kin, they should start their search with this valley.
She tilted her head back to rest on Ash’s shoulder. Her eyes wandered over the valley again until they came to rest on the dragon statue. Despite the damage, it was still breathtakingly majestic, Periskios’s light casting bold shadows over its form and the sheer slope beneath it. So realistic it could have come alive at any moment. The two mountains dotted with balconies, facing each other across the width of the lake, offered a perfect view of the third summit with the statue, so she assumed the ancient draconians had enjoyed looking at the carved tribute just as much as she did.
A slow prickle ran up her spine. She stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she studied the statue. Something seemed a little off, something not quite right …
The shadow beneath the statue moved.
Like darkness brought to life, the shadow expanded. Massive wings lazily unfurled, spreading to a span equal to the statue above it. A head lifted on an elegant, curved neck, stretching out of the shadows so that silver light spilled across obsidian scales and horns.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Not daring to look away, she grabbed Ash’s wrist and dug her fingers in.
“Is that,” she whispered hoarsely, “a real dragon?”
Chapter Eight
A dragon. A dragon clung to the rock beneath the statue of itself.
Piper stood utterly frozen, afraid to move. Ash had gone rigid behind her, his arms like vices around her middle as he too stared at the southern summit. She could hardly believe her eyes—an actual massive dragon, the creature from draconian legend. Where had it come from? What was it doing here? How long had it been here? It definitely hadn’t been there when they’d arrived.
The dragon moved, shifting along the steep mountain wall beneath the statue. As rock cracked under the beast’s talons, gunshot-like sounds shattered the silence, echoing through the valley. The ancient draconians had carved their tribute in perfect detail—the massive statue and the dragon beneath it were almost identical in size. She had never seen a living thing so large before.
Pulling its wings in, the dragon wove its head back and forth through the air as though thinking. Then the wings snapped open with a boom of displaced air. With impossible grace for something so enormous, it sprang off its precarious perch and swept through the valley, silver light rushing over the sleek obsidian scales and spines that covered its body—so beautiful and so terrifying.
Then she realized it was heading in their direction.
She shoved back from the railing, pushing Ash with her. He gasped, startled out of his speechless trance. They backpedaled across the balcony, but there was nowhere to run except into the dwelling—a dead end with no escape. The dragon snapped its wings down and shot toward them, filling her vision with its dark body. Its wings swept wide and it slammed into the side of the mountain, thirty feet above their balcony. Shards of rock rained down as its talons tore into the slope to hold itself in place.
Thirty feet wasn’t very far away for a creature of that size. Its huge, graceful head turned toward them, long neck curving like a swan’s. Spines framed its face on either side of a wide forehead that narrowed to a slim muzzle. Large spikes jutted above its shoulders to prevent attacks from above, and shorter, flexible ones ran down its spine, fading out halfway down its long, snake-like tail.
Its head turned as it fixed one big, pale blue eye on them. Her heart pounded. It was looking at them. Had it flown over just to examine them? Pressing back into Ash, she tried not to hyperventilate. He didn’t move either; he scarcely even breathed.
A low, bone-deep rumble came from the beast. Its mouth opened slightly, flashing rows of pointed fangs as long as her hand from fingertips to wrist.
A strange pressure filled her head, buzzing inside her mind and scattering her thoughts. She staggered half a step away from Ash, pressing her hands to her forehead. What the hell was that? It was like the dragon’s rumbling growl was vibrating inside her skull. What kind of power was this? How magical was the dragon? The creature before them was a flesh and blood beast, she was certain; it didn’t seem to be the god-like being from Shona’s dragon king story, but she had no idea what kind of supernatural powers it might possess.
Still squeezing her head between her hands, she twisted to look at Ash. He leaned against the railing for support, one hand gripping his head, his jaw clenched and his glazed eyes wide and staring.
The dragon grunted, and its eyes suddenly glowed blue. A small concussion of invisible power whooshed out from it. It hit her like an ocean wave and rushed over her with an unsettling friction. As it passed over her, tingles rushed over her body—familiar tingles.
She jerked her hands off her head, shocked to see mother-of-pearl scales shimmering on the backs of her hands. Her eyes snapped to Ash—he too had changed forms, his wings tight to his back and shock clear on his face. The dragon’s magic had pulled them both into their daemon forms. How was that even possible?
It stretched its neck out, bringing its head a little closer. Another rumble—and that strange buzzing pressure thundered through them again. Piper cringed, but this time it felt different—clearer but more powerful. The invisible force pressed down on her mind, pushing her body into the ground with it.
Beside her, Ash dropped to his knees on the balcony. He clutched his head in both hands, eyes squeezed shut. Piper struggled to focus. What was happening? What was the dragon doing to them?
His wings trembling from strain, Ash lifted his head, teeth bared.
“No!” The word burst out of him in a furious, desperate shout.
The pressure vanished as the dragon pulled its head back, fangs flashing as it pulled its lips up. Its eyes glowed brighter blue.
With an ear-shattering roar, it lunged at Ash.
Its weight hit the balcony and the whole structure shattered. The stone beneath her feet vanished. She fell as the dragon flashed past her for Ash, who leaped away from its deadly jaws.
She plummeted before slamming into rock. Crumpling in agony, she fought to breathe. With shaking limbs, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees and looked around wildly. She’d landed on the balcony beneath the one they’d been on. Gasping and pushing away the pain, she staggered to her feet and threw herself at the railing.
Below her in the valley, the dragon wheeled through the air, chasing a small dark blur that could only be Ash, his wings beating hard. He looked like a sparrow evading an eagle. Her heart leaped into her throat. He couldn’t elude the massive beast forever. Sooner or later, it would catch him—and kill him in an instant. Why was it attacking him? Why had he shouted “no” at it?
“Zwi!” she screamed.
The dragonet flew down from the remains of the upper balcony and landed on Piper’s shoulder, chittering in terror.
“Transform, Zwi! We have to help him!”
The dragonet let out a terrified squeak and jumped from her shoulder. She shifted to her dragon form in a rush of black fire and Piper sprang onto her back. They took off.
Deep down, she knew it was futile. They were no match for the dragon—a creature the draconians considered a god. If it had decided to kill Ash, no power she possessed could stop it—only, perhaps, the Sahar, but she didn’t have it.
But the futility didn’t matter. She wouldn’t flee while Ash fought for his life. They would either escape together or die together.
Zwi rushed toward the dragon as it banked in a tight turn, unable to match Ash’s agility. As they approached, Ash threw a blast of black magic in the dragon’s face. The ebony flames sloughed off the dragon’s gleaming scales like water splashing over glass, not slowing the beast in the slightest.
As Zwi closed in behind the dragon, Piper lifted her hands. Calm closed over her, clearing her mind. Possessive rage
simmered beneath the calm—her need to protect Ash. She summoned an oversized orb of magic. Blue and purple fire swirled together, streaked with orange. Zwi shot over top of the dragon and she took aim. Lifting her hands over her head, she hurled the blast down.
It burst against the dragon’s right wing in a flash of orange. The beast bellowed, its flight faltering even though Ash’s attack hadn’t fazed it at all. Its head twisted, glowing blue eyes flashing toward Piper and Zwi. With a booming beat of its wings, the dragon swung around toward them.
Zwi roared, banking sharply. The dragon loosed its own roar, the overwhelming sound drowning out the smaller dragon’s voice. It shot toward them. Zwi darted downward, avoiding the dragon’s snapping jaws by a few inches—jaws large enough to bite Piper in half. They dove underneath the dragon. Beyond it, Ash headed for them, though what they could do even together to stave off the dragon, she had no idea.
As the dragon whirled around to pursue them, she conjured her next spell. The wings were its weak points. If she damaged the wings, it wouldn’t be able to chase them. Zwi arched around to face the dragon as it came at them. Piper stretched out her arm and pointed two fingers at the beast. She’d only witnessed this spell once but she instinctively knew how to duplicate it.
The dragon charged them, jaws gaping for a deadly bite. On its other side, Ash hurled a spiraling wave of black magic. His blast engulfed the dragon’s head, not harming it—but distracting it.
She cast a spear of blue and purple magic that shot from her fingertips. The spear hit the dragon’s wing and tore through the leathery membrane.
The dragon screamed, still hurtling toward them. Zwi dove again. With Piper clutching her mane, Zwi slipped past the flailing front claws and beneath the dragon’s belly. Piper raised her hand, intending to strike again.
The dragon’s tail snapped toward them out of nowhere, so fast neither she nor Zwi could react.
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