50
Lyana
Magic pulsed from Lyana’s body as she fought to keep the House of Wisdom from slipping beneath the sea. The jagged cliffs on the underside of the isle transformed into open wounds her aethi’kine power sought to heal. The sands along the ocean floor rose and hardened. Inch by inch, the home of the owls settled back into the earth from which it had once been ripped, reconnecting as though it’d never been separated in the first place. The sensation calmed her soul, as though finally she was doing something right, something worthy, and that was when the realization hit.
Healing. Of course, healing.
It was written in the prophecy. It had been there all along.
Together they will heal that which we broke.
All this time, they’d been thinking of saving the isles and closing the rift as two separate things—to Lyana, the first a far-off dream, and to Malek, nothing but a distraction. Yet the ideas were the same. They were connected. The spell holding the isles aloft was the spell keeping the rift contained, and one couldn’t be fixed without the other. That was why her magic was useless against the growing void, why it was taking her and Malek so long to push back the abyss. The isles were the rift and the rift was the isles, and in order to save the world they had to first put it back together. That was her role. That was her job. To heal. According to the prophecy, someone else would come to defeat the dragons, to save them all, but only after the sky fell. Not just a handful of isles, but all of them.
The House of Peace.
Aethios’s god stone was the keystone holding the spell together and keeping the rift at the bottom of the sea. As long as it remained in the sky, the world would never heal. That barren void, that poisonous abyss, would keep spreading. But if she returned the isle to its rightful place, if she lifted the rift from the depths, if she stopped the bleeding, maybe the rest of the puzzle would fall into place.
I have to go to Sphaira.
There was a reason Lyana had been born a dove. A reason she’d been raised in the halls of the crystal palace, granted access to the sacred nest by birth. A reason she’d been given an adventurous spirit, spending her youth learning how to sneak into and out of her home. And this was it. She could feel it, as though the very spirit of the world were urging her down this path, urging her to carry on, to take this leap of faith, to believe her wings and will would be there to catch her. Everything in her life had been leading to this moment, this decision, and all she had to do was make it.
I’m ready.
Lyana withdrew from her magic, praying she’d done enough to save Xander, but there was no time to waste. Not for him. Not for Rafe. Not even for herself. Now that she knew what she was meant to do, she couldn’t delay another moment. Not if it risked the world.
She opened her eyes to pitch black.
A claw wrapped around her throat and the golden power flooding her veins simply vanished. Sharp talons dug into her skin as the fingers squeezed, cutting off air. She tried to scream, to alert Malek, but no sound escaped her lips. Gripping the slick scales, she pushed the creature away, but without her magic she was weak. The shadows around her receded, until an onyx arm slipped into view, then a chest, then a head. She kicked and squirmed, but the grip around her throat was as unbreakable as iron. Its arm didn’t even budge. Darkness swirled in a vortex around them as the creature pulled her closer, opening its mouth so its ivory teeth gleamed against black lips. Her throat burned. Those bottomless eyes stared into hers, almost as though it wanted to watch the life leave her, something vengeful about their obsidian gleam.
Movement caught her eye.
A silver sword carved through the spinning shadow. Her vision started to spot. The creature leaned closer, hissing. As it shifted its head to the side, Rafe stepped free of the darkness. Her heart leapt in her throat, but Lyana willed her face to remain still lest she give him away. He lifted his finger to his lips, signaling silence, then arched his sword overhead.
As the blade came slashing down, the shadow creature tossed her aside and spun. It caught the metal edge in its palm, seemingly unconcerned as the weapon sliced through its scales. Rafe pulled back and attacked again. Lyana didn’t see if his blade struck true. The world descended into darkness again, leaving her blind. Grunts and hisses echoed across the void. As much as she wanted to help, she had to trust that Rafe could handle this fight himself.
“Malek!” Lyana called through the black. “Malek!”
He didn’t answer.
Diving into her magic, she reached for his spirit. He was close. He was alive, just too deep in his own power to hear her call. Lyana crawled across the floor on her hands and knees, using his soul as a guide as she crossed over the rug, not stopping until her fingers found a warm body. She shook him by the shoulders.
“Malek! Come back. Malek!”
A gasp escaped his lips as the magic flooding from his spirit drew back. She knew the moment he opened his eyes because his soul flashed with panic. “Lyana?”
“I’m here,” she answered, skimming her hand down his arm until she found his fingers. “I’m right here.”
“What’s going on? Where—”
“The shadow creature is here. Rafe is fighting it. We don’t have much—”
The darkness vanished, but there was no time to turn around and see why. Malek’s stormy eyes regarded her fiercely, as though he knew she had more to say. The battle at her back might as well have been in a different realm for all the regard he gave it. There was no fear in his spirit, only iron determination as he tightened his grip on her palm.
“I know what to do, Malek,” she said. “We have to get to Sphaira. We have to return all the isles to their rightful place upon the sea and lift the rift from the ocean floor. We have to heal the world. That’s the only way to save it.”
“But the spell, the rift—”
“I know,” she cut in. “I know it sounds crazy. The spell is the only thing keeping us from complete ruin, but it’s keeping us from victory too. I can’t explain how I know. I just do.”
His sandy brows drew together, carving a deep groove above the bridge of his nose. “If we do this, the aethi’kine creature will be freed.”
“I know.”
“And yet you’re certain?”
He’d trusted her enough to send his magic to the House of Wisdom instead of the rift. Somehow, he would trust her enough to do this too. “It’s the only—”
A mangled cry stole her voice.
Lyana spun.
Rafe stood with his back to her in the opening of the balcony. One of his wings was bent in half, the bone shattered as the leathery expanse dragged along the floor. The shadow creature stood behind him. For the first time, she noticed the deep maroon stains upon his clothes. How many wounds had his magic healed? How many still bled? He swayed on unsteady feet, fighting to keep his balance. It was no use. The creature shoved and Rafe stumbled through the door. His hips hit the stone rail and his body tumbled over the side.
“Rafe!” she screamed, her magic already chasing after him.
The shadow creature stepped in its path, absorbing the golden glow within its onyx scales. With a hiss, she retreated, the merest touch of its soul burning her to the core.
“Rafe…” she whimpered.
Even if he did hear, he wasn’t coming to save her. Not this time. The shadow creature raced across the room, a claw outstretched. Lyana winced and closed her eyes.
The strike never landed.
“Go!” Malek screamed.
Tendrils of his golden magic wrapped around the shadow creature and held it in a vicelike grip. He grunted, denying the scream surging up his throat. Lyana whipped around to face him, a protest rising to her lips.
“Malek, you can’t—”
“Go, Lyana,” he ordered. The peach skin of his face was already turning red. As she watched, a boil bubbled along his neck, his flesh burning from the inside out. The tips of his fingers blackened. Wavy blond locks dropped to the f
loor as his scalp melted. “I can’t hold them for long. Go! Now! You’re the Queen Bred of Snow and you’re going to save the world. So, leave! Fly! And don’t you dare waste time looking back.”
She did waste a moment, but just one to memorize the faith and trust shining in his eyes like the sun after a storm. Then she turned and flapped her wings as she took to the sky.
51
Cassi
The skryr lay still as the world outside their window burned. Cassi had hardly left the room in two weeks, except to scavenge food from the tavern downstairs. He’d nearly reached the end of the diary—and she’d been right. It was important. The author was the prophetess herself, and her memories told the story of the end of everything, or maybe the beginning, depending on how one looked at it.
Come on. Come on.
Cassi’s knee bounced, making the floor squeak, as she stared at the skryr’s impassive expression. Bronze magic glittered around his fingertips and simmered in the air above his body. There was no telling how soon he’d wake. Sometimes he spent a few hours deep in his power. Sometimes it was only minutes. This time, he’d been asleep for nearly a day. They’d eaten a quick lunch together the afternoon before as he described the chaos of the dragons flooding through the rift, the mages scattering, and the avians hiding; all while the prophetess and the riftmaker shuffled the eggs around, trying to avoid detection. They’d shared one final night together before she bid farewell to her sanity and let her chrono’kine magic consume her.
And that was the last Cassi had heard.
As soon as the skryr had finished eating, he’d reached for the diary, ready to uncover its end. There was only a single entry left, not overly long and hastily scribbled, the writing messier and heavy handed. Foolishly, she’d thought it wouldn’t take long. But the man had been deep in his power for hours, and the memories stored within those final pages must have been vast indeed, because he showed no signs of waking anytime soon.
Oh, come on!
Cassi flicked her gaze to the window again. Fire danced across the rooftops of Da’Kin. A roar split the sky, rattling the glasses on the bedside table. The room bounced, the building unsteady as the tides below shifted unnaturally, a rising and falling that could only be caused by magic. A battle was clearly taking place outside the inn. It was against her nature to sit and hide, to do nothing, but this final diary entry held the key to everything. Cassi didn’t know how she knew—instinct, a gut feeling, sheer hope—but she did.
Still, the wait was killing her.
She twiddled her thumbs. She counted the floorboards running parallel across the room. She traced the cracks in the plaster walls. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the lullaby her mother used to sing, something about foggy seas and the soft whipping of sails as the magic guided her home. Just when she was about to give in and slip into her spirit body to figure out what exactly was going on outside, aethi’kine power lit the skies.
Cassi jumped to her feet and ran to the window.
Golden sparks stood bright against the fog, dazzling as they rushed in steady streams toward the dragons torching the city. The magic wrapped around the beasts and they froze, moving nothing but their wings as they hovered in midair. The shadow creature emerged from the tallest spire of the castle, surrounded in a metallic glow. Its ebony wings pushed slowly through the haze, as if facing strong winds. Two more creatures rose from the rooftops, also fighting against the magic.
No.
No.
No.
Cassi threw open the glass and leaned her head out, trying to taste the spirit in the air. A breeze ruffled her hair, carrying the scent closer.
Malek, she realized. It’s Malek.
Relief washed through her, followed by something she’d never expected—grief. It cut sharp and deep, stealing the breath from her lungs as she pictured him alone in that tower, his flesh burning, his body dropping, his power flooding out to the world in one final act of stubborn control. The man had tortured and abused her. He’d been her greatest dream and her worst nightmare, her first love and her fiercest rival, her dearest friend and her diabolical king. And now he was dying. Cassi didn’t know where Lyana had gone, or what had happened to Rafe, or why Malek had chosen this fate, but she knew enough to understand that the dragons were killing him, and, for the world, he was letting them.
“I have to go.”
The words spilled out before she could stop them. Unlike in the world above, where each window was crafted for access, the one in this inn was too small for her body, let alone her wings, to squeeze through. Heart thumping, she spun, the world blurring as her thoughts rushed too fast to process. The skryr lay still on the bed, his bronze magic flowing. The fate of the world might very well rest on his remaining alive, but she couldn’t sit in this room any longer. Not when Malek—not when he—
Cassi scrawled a hasty note explaining she’d be back, in case he woke before her return, and then she took the stairs two at a time. Distantly, she recognized that if the dragons were trying to chase Lyana across the skies, the danger was over for Da’Kin. As soon as that golden power winked out, they’d be gone. Still, she grabbed the innkeeper by the collar on her way out.
“If you let anything happen to the man in my room upstairs, I’ll end you. I’m one of the king’s dormi’kines, and now that I know the scent of your soul, there’s nowhere in all the skies or the seas where I wouldn’t find you. No one goes into his room. No one comes out. Deliver his meals to the door and keep your mouth shut. I’ll be back.”
She ran.
Emerging from the cramped first-floor tavern, Cassi spread her wings and took to the sky, no longer worried who might see. Her singular focus was on getting to that tower before—before—
Just before.
As she flew across the city, the aethi’kine power on the wind faltered. The golden beams flickered. The dragons and creatures roared, fighting against its hold. Just as she crossed over the castle wall, it faded entirely. In a blink, the beasts disappeared into the mist.
No!
Cassi swept into Malek’s study, her heart fortified against what she’d find inside, but nothing could have prepared her for this. He lay crumpled on the floor, unrecognizable. His fingers had melted down to the bone. Boils covered his neck. His exposed flesh was raw and running like hot wax. A dusting of blond hair surrounded him, the tendrils rising into the air as her feathers caused a draft. His scalp was bloody and bald. He shivered, his body in pure shock.
Her breath hitched. She froze, unsure whether to run to him or turn away. He’d always loomed like some sort of invincible god in the back of her thoughts, but now, at the end, she realized he was just as human as the rest of them.
“Malek?”
He flinched on the floor.
Cassi broke and dashed across the room before falling to her knees beside him. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for Lyana’s healing touch, to ease his pain if nothing else. As it was, she hovered her hands above his broken body, unsure if touching him would help or hurt.
“Malek, I’m here,” she whispered. “You’re not alone.”
“R— R— R—”
“It’s okay,” she soothed. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t—”
“Rafe,” he wheezed, the name more breath than voice, but she heard.
“Rafe? What about Rafe? Did he leave with Lyana? Where’d they go?”
“B— B— Bring…”
Footsteps sounded behind her. Cassi glanced over her shoulder, finding Jacinta in the doorway with wide eyes, horror written across her normally severe features. Tears already streamed down her cheeks, but the flow strengthened at the sight of her king, as though this were the confirmation she’d been dreading.
“Is Rafe here?” Cassi asked, but Jacinta showed no signs of hearing as she stared unblinkingly at Malek. Cassi tried again, more loudly. “Jacinta! Is Rafe here?”
“What? Rafe?”
“He just told me to bring Rafe. Is he here? In Da�
�Kin? I thought Lyana must have left. Why isn’t he with her?”
“I don’t—” The metal mage broke off, shaking her head. “I’m not—”
“Listen to me,” Cassi interrupted, unused to seeing the woman so helpless. But Malek had been her world, her entire belief system, and now he was moments from his end. “There isn’t much time. I know you loved the king and I know you believed in him, so snap out of it and heed his final wishes. Rafe is close. He’s got to be. Find him and bring him here immediately. Go!”
The mage took off running.
Cassi turned back to Malek and watched him tremble on the rug, still not sure if she should touch him—or if she could. After everything he’d done to her, she thought she’d be cheering when he finally found his demise. She thought she would ache to deliver the last blow. She thought she’d feel free. Instead, the burden sat heavy at the back of her throat, a tight knot robbing her of her voice as a burning sensation needled at her eyes. Looking at him now, she didn’t see the king who’d coldly stolen her sky, who’d commanded her to murder and lie, who’d whispered in her ear as he forced his mages to torture her awake. She saw the boy who’d run with her through fields of wildflowers under a purple sky, who’d drawn rainbows across her dreams and made it rain candy, who’d held her hand on the grass while they studied sugar-spun clouds and shared secrets no one else would understand—about their parents, their fears, and the world they would build together.
His hand found hers and clutched it with surprising strength. She tried to ignore how hot his skin felt, how it squelched when they touched, and the blood that ran down her fingers.
“R— R—”
“Jacinta will find him,” Cassi said. “They’ll bring him.”
“No,” he said with sudden clarity, his throat raspy and his breath short, but his voice somehow carrying strength. “King.”
The Dragon and the Queen (The Raven and the Dove Book 3) Page 37