by Megg Jensen
Bastian looked around, stunned. "This is… odd.” Only moments ago they’d been in the outskirts of the Hills of Flame. Apparently Krom had some control of space as well as time. It was a difficult concept to grasp. “Where do we go from here?”
"I don't know," Connor said. "The last time I was here, one of the Black dragons came out to guide me."
Bastian sighed, annoyed. "You and Tressa both said they refused to help. I wonder if that will change now that Tressa has been taken by Donovan."
"If they'd give us a chance to tell them, I think it might," Connor said. He jogged toward the forest, disappearing into the mess of gnarled trees.
Bastian shrugged and followed his friend. If they had to look for the entrance to the Ruins of Ebon all night long, then they would.
"Don’t you have any idea where it might be?" Bastian stepped over a decaying tree trunk.
"No." Connor continued searching. "It all happened so fast the last time I was here. I expected the same this time. Someone met me then. Why not now?"
"This time they are hiding," Bastian said. "They outright admitted they don't want to fight. Why should they come out now?"
"Because I'm curious," a voice said behind them.
Bastian spun around, surprised to see Sophia standing in the forest, her arms crossed over her chest. He ran toward the old woman, but stopped just short of her and threw his arm over his nose. "I'm sorry, Sophia. You stink!"
She laughed, her silver hair bouncing on her shoulders. "I can't change into a dragon, so I had to take a different way out of the Ruins of Ebon. It's a little trick Tressa taught me. The waste tunnels are so much quicker than other ways out of the underground city. Hold your breath and give me a hug, young man."
Bastian took Sophia in his arms, trying to ignore the stench. Connor joined them, not as enthusiastic as Bastian. He held back, eyeing them both.
"Why did you come?" Sophia asked Connor. "I told you, Mestifito said we will not fight. He's lost his dragon."
"That shouldn't matter," Connor said. "You have hundreds of other dragons more than capable of fighting. I understand Mestifito has been their commander for a long time, but we need you. The Green has abandoned the Meadowlands. The only Yellow dragon hasn't left the Sands, nor does he have reason to help us. We are alone in this."
"Then join us underground," Sophia said. "You are welcome, always."
"Donovan has Tressa." Bastian refused to debate any longer. Sophia needed to know the truth.
Sophia gasped, her small hands shaking. "No."
"What did you expect?" Bastian asked, growing angry. "Did you really think she wouldn't do everything in her power to defeat Donovan, even if she had to do it alone?"
"She was going to meet up with the two of you." Sophia's eyes narrowed. "After Connor came here, I still believed the three of you would come to your senses once you realized the fight was in vain. You are not children playing at games anymore. I can't believe any of you would be so foolish as to attempt this battle without reinforcements."
"We weren't alone. We had an army with us. Do you remember the legends of the Vulture's Tower?" Connor asked Sophia. She nodded. "Well, they were just as real as all of the other prophecies and histories. The warriors of the tower are back, and they said they would fight with us because the Dragonlands needed them. Unfortunately, before we could mount a strike against Donovan and his unholy army, he captured Tressa."
"We need you, Sophia. We need the Black. Please." Bastian wasn't against pleading. He would do anything to save Tressa. If the Black refused to fight, he would fly back on his own and do his best to save her. He would die trying. He would never, ever give up on her.
Sophia looked at the ground. "It is not up to me."
"You can rally them," Connor said. "Mestifito can stay here, hiding like a fool if he pleases. That matters not."
"It isn't just Mestifito. The others fear they will lose their own dragons if they engage with Donovan.” Sophia looked up at the sky. The blood moon shone through the branches, casting its corrupt light on them. "He can't be defeated."
"We can't give up," Bastian said. His throat tightened. "He has Tressa. We can't leave her. Connor and I still have our dragons. We can fight."
Sophia laid a hand on Bastian's arm. "Then do what you must. I won't ask you to risk your life for my great-granddaughter. But I will be forever grateful if you do."
"So that is all?" Connor asked. "You won't come?"
"What can I do?" Sophia threw her arms in the air. "I am an old woman. The dragon I rode on is now human. I have no army to command, just frightened people who don't understand what is happening. Should I force them to risk their lives for one person? Even if it is the person I love most in this unhinged world?"
"I would." Bastian meant it, too. He would risk everything for her. He'd died once to protect Tressa. He would do it again. "Come on, Connor. There is nothing here for us. The sooner we get back to the Vulture's Tower army, the sooner we can end this."
"I'm sorry, Bastian." Sophia reached out to him. "You must understand. I can speak to them again, but I make no promises."
"I will never understand," Bastian said. He turned his back on Sophia, stomping out of the dead forest, leaving his last hope for reinforcements buried underground. "Are you coming, Connor?"
"Already beside you," Connor said as he matched Bastian's stride. "I expected more."
"As did I," Bastian said. "Instead of coming back with an army, we will return empty handed." He stopped, placing a hand on Connor's shoulder. "If you want to go to the Meadowlands and leave with the last of them, I'll understand. Tressa would, too."
"I know she would," Connor said. "But I would never forgive myself. Neither would Hazel. She knew what we were going to do. If I never return, she will make sure my boys understand I fought for them. I won't leave the Dragonlands. Not ever. Even if it means dying here."
The two men traversed the forest, quickly finding the door to the Vulture’s Tower where they had left it. It stood alone between two trees, the tower invisible. They stepped in, and Bastian was again amazed by its magic.
“Well?” Krom asked, expectant.
Connor shook his head.
“We’re not done,” Bastian said. “I refuse to give up.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Tressa huddled on the floor of the cottage, her head on her knees. She refused to look up. The clanking of the skeletons, the sharpening of swords, the snarls of beasts, and, worst of all, Fi's gurgling breaths outside the door kept her away from the outside.
That was the reason Tressa kept her head down. It wasn't fear of Donovan or his minions. It wasn't her impending death. It was Fi and how she'd changed so quickly. The last time Tressa had seen Fi, she was fine. Better than fine, she was healthy and strong. How had Donovan stolen her from the Meadowlands, and what had he done to her?
Tressa had given up on Jarrett, knowing he would never be free of Donovan. She'd left him under guard, which, in the end, hadn't done any good either. He was dead at Fi’s hands. And now Fi was outside her door. Waiting? Guarding? Tressa wasn't sure.
Donovan hadn't said a word since he'd shoved her into the cottage. After her friends had disappeared, leaving her to Donovan's devices, Tressa hadn’t known what to do. She felt broken and lost. Her friends hadn't even tried to fight for her. Instead, they'd retreated. Bastian, Connor, Krom, her ghost dragons—all of them gone.
Donovan smiled every time he saw a tear roll down her cheek, and knowing it gave him pleasure made her sick. She fought against her own emotions, attempting to harden herself. It was a battle she couldn't win. Instead of protecting herself, Tressa felt her will slipping away bit by bit, until she felt nothing.
No one would fight with her. They'd all left. She couldn't blame them, though. Given the choice, she wanted them to save themselves. There was no point in everyone dying. Maybe the Green and the Black had it right the whole time. It was better to live than to fight, and Donovan had made it very clear
no one would make it through this alive.
A shudder ran through Tressa. She was thirsty, probably dehydrated. Though she doubted Donovan meant to let her starve to death. That would be too kind. No, he had more in store for her. If she were to have any chance of surviving, she would need to be strong. Despite the voice inside telling her to stay in her spot and wait, Tressa unfolded her stiff arms and legs. She searched for a bit of food or a cup of water, no matter how old or stale it was. She wouldn't give up. Not today.
Tressa rooted around, moving cups and plates, searching for a crumb of bread or a bite of jerky. She fell to her hands and knees, searching the floorboards for scraps. Nothing. She tore at the bed, pulling off the blankets until nothing was left but the straw mattress. Desperate, Tressa lifted it, too.
All she found was a wrinkled piece of parchment. She remembered the time she'd found a similar scrap in her cottage back in Hutton's Bridge, hidden behind the bed. Granna had left Tressa a note there. It seemed to be the proper hiding place for such things.
Tressa sat on the floor and smoothed out the parchment. As she examined the uneven script a bit more closely, she realized it wasn't ink at all. It was blood.
He controls me. When he allows me to think my own thoughts, he tortures me by reminding me that even when I think I'm in my right mind, I'm not. When the castle fell on us, I thought for sure I'd die. I wished that Tressa would live, that she had escaped over the Barrier Mountains and found her way back to our people. She could tell Sarah how much I loved her, and how hard I'd fought to make it home.
Tressa gasped, and the tears she'd thought dried formed in her eyes as she read the parchment again.
When the shades took me, I learned that Donovan was their leader. Yes, he'd been taken by them once, long, long ago. But he had defeated them and taken them under his control. It was there I learned that the leeches he used to drain my dragon blood hadn't worked as he'd claimed. Instead, he ingested the leeches, giving him dominion over us.
Our dragons weren't gone, they were simply his to command. He holds our dragons in his own blood.
I wanted to tell Tressa. I tried, but every time I thought to open my mouth, something inside stopped me. It told me to wait until later. It wasn't me. It was Donovan. He was in control the whole time. And now he controls everything. We have no chance of winning. The best thing to do is to hide, or flee. He won't stop until the Dragonlands is his. I am his, which means I am lost. If I could kill myself, I would. I hate being his pawn. I want to die, but he won't allow that, either. He's using me because he wants Tressa. I don't know why, though.
The words stopped there. Tressa shook out the mattress, hoping to find more, something to give her hope. A clue to undoing the magic Donovan had wrought.
There was nothing. This was all Tressa had left of her friend.
She clutched the note to her chest, taking deep, even breaths. Donovan had changed Fi. He had manipulated her into getting back into Tressa's life. His plan had worked. Fi and Jarrett's mysterious disappearance had pulled Tressa exactly where Donovan wanted her.
She'd walked right into his trap.
Tressa looked out the window. Fi loped around the edge of the house, her head bent at an unnatural angle, her arms limp and her mouth slack. Her eyes were blank, uncaring. Unfamiliar. That told Tressa what she needed to know. Her friend was gone.
Anger washed through Tressa, pushing away the hopelessness. Donovan had murdered too many already. She wouldn't allow him to use her friend this way. Mustering her strength, Tressa knew what she had to do.
Now she knew the truth. Her friends could never be what they once were.
Fi wouldn't want to live this way. If Tressa was in Fi's place, she would want her friend to do the same.
Tressa would end Fi's misery. She would release her dearest friend from captivity. Permanently.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Tressa jiggled the door handle. It was unlocked. She hadn't even thought to try it until then. She’d been too horrified, too hopeless. Donovan knew her. He knew she'd stay inside and away from Fi. He knew everything, it seemed.
Except perhaps he didn't know Tressa could change. That she would find the note from Fi. That she would do the most loving thing she could for her friend, even though it was the hardest thing she would ever have to do.
The door creaked as Tressa pulled it open ever so slightly. Fi's head jerked toward her, the vacant eyes taking her in. Fi loped closer, dragging one foot. Her tongue darted out, forked as it had been in her dragon form.
As she came even closer, Tressa saw Fi's skin wasn't just dry, but scaly. She was trapped somehow between human and dragon, a perversion of both. Her eyes rolled. One moment her pupils were slitted and the next round. There was a battle going on in Fi, one that Donovan had ignited and Fi couldn't fight.
Tressa beckoned to her friend. Fi shuffled closer. Then, with a burst of speed, she ran toward Tressa, her mouth open and her teeth glinting.
Tressa waited until Fi was nearly on her, then tossed the blanket over Fi's head. She wrapped it around Fi's writhing body, pulling her into the cabin. Tressa shut the door behind them and waited.
The sounds of the camp hadn't changed. No one seemed to notice, or care, that Fi was missing from her patrol.
Fi's teeth clacked as she struggled to break from the blanket. It tore at Tressa’s soul. Still, she held tight, keeping her arms around Fi until, eventually, Fi’s struggles subsided.
"Fi?" Tressa asked tentatively. "Can you hear me?"
Fi only grunted and smacked her lips together.
"I need to know if you're still in there, Fi. Please." Tressa's voiced wavered. She couldn't do this. Not to Fi. "Please tell me there's still a chance for you."
Fi moaned, and Tressa's heart leapt. Was this the sign she'd been hoping for?
"Fi, listen to me carefully. You have to squeeze my hand. Show me you can understand me." Tressa placed her hand on the blanket over Fi's hand. She waited, holding her breath. Do it, she thought. Squeeze my hand.
Fi sat still, grunting and clacking her teeth together.
She didn't squeeze Tressa's hand. She didn't utter a word. There were no thoughts coming through their mental bond.
Nothing.
Tressa pulled her friend closer, resting her chin on top of Fi's head, still hidden under the blanket. She thought of the moment she'd run out of the building in Malum to see the horde of Black dragons flying in to rescue them. She remembered Fi being so kind when Tressa was going through her change into a dragon. How Fi stood by her every moment of their short time together. How they'd laughed, even when it didn't feel like there was anything worth laughing about. How she'd felt when Fi had disappeared from the rock by the Wardack River in Desolation. How relieved Tressa had been when they'd gotten Fi out of the catacombs alive.
Now these memories were all she had. Her friend was gone. Forever. This thing inside the blanket wasn't Fi. It was just a body that Donovan had corrupted and destroyed. It was a pawn in a game Tressa no longer wanted to play.
Donovan had known Tressa would come for her friends. He had known she'd be afraid of the perverted Fi outside the cottage door. He couldn't have known Tressa would take this step. Even she couldn't believe she was about to do it.
"You were the sister I never had. I wanted us to grow old together. For our children to play together someday. To know what it was like to have family." Tressa held Fi closer, her arms slipping to her friend’s neck. She tightened them as she told Fi the story of how they'd met. How magnificent her Black wings had been. How Tressa was so grateful she hadn’t died that day.
Fi jerked, but Tressa’s elbows locked as her arm tightened even more. "Fi, I thought we'd be best friends forever. I love you."
Tressa leaned over and kissed the top of her friend's head. The rough wool of the blanket scratched her lips, but Tressa didn't pull away until she jerked her arm, and a snap broke through the silence.
Fi's body went limp. Her friend was gone. No. Tr
essa reminded herself Fi—the real Fi—had already gone. Had their positions been reversed, she would have wanted the same. To be free, instead of caught in Donovan's clutches. Now he couldn't have Fi. Not ever again. This had been Tressa’s chance to say goodbye and release her friend’s soul.
Tressa's lips trembled as she laid Fi down, draping the blanket over her friend's body. She stood and grabbed the cloak she'd been wearing when Donovan took her captive. She twirled the cape over her shoulders, tying it at the neck. She stood up straight. Without another final look at Fi, she burst out of the cottage, running for the center of the camp.
Before any of the skeletons could stop her, Tressa grabbed a torch and lit it from the brazier. She ran back to the cottage and tossed the torch inside. It quickly caught fire. Flames licked up the walls, swallowing everything inside.
Donovan wouldn't have Fi. He wouldn't reanimate her body. He wouldn't lay his dirty hands on anyone Tressa loved ever again.
"Come and get me," she yelled into the night sky as the cottage burnt down behind her.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Donovan strode toward the burning cottage. The heat from the flames didn't bother him. The skin he wore didn't seem affected. Each time he stitched on a new skin, he lost more feeling. His body simply wouldn't mesh with the receptors for touch and sensation. It only added to the barren feeling in his gut.
So little of it mattered anymore. He felt nothing inside or out. Even Tressa's tantrum didn’t annoy him. He'd expected her to act out. In fact, he would have been shocked if she hadn't. For a time, Tressa had done everything he'd wanted her to do.
She'd come to Desolation. She'd followed him into the catacombs. She'd released the ghosts from their statues.
She surprised him by surviving the journey over the Barrier Mountains. Now she'd set her cottage on fire. He hadn’t expected that. And how she'd gotten past Fi, he wasn't sure.