“Cassi?”
She reached up, gripped him by the shirt, and pulled him to the ground. In one smooth roll, she’d pinned him to the dirt. Chest to chest, she leaned over him and ran her fingers slowly through his hair, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as if to hide her grin.
“I love you, too, Xander.”
While he was still caught in his surprise, she pecked his lips and jumped to her feet. He shook his head to clear the emotional whiplash, aware of the secret flashing in her silver eyes, and gradually rose to standing. “What do you know that I don’t know?”
“It’s over,” she whispered giddily.
He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”
“It’s over, Xander. The war. The battle. The end times. It’s over. I felt it a little while ago. Lyana went to Sphaira, and Rafe went after her, and they must have figured out what to do, because the spell holding the rift has unraveled. The prophecy is realized. The world is saved. It’s done.”
“It’s done?”
“We have time, Xander. As much time as we want,” she murmured and stepped closer, entwining their fingers.
Her features softened, as though a weight had lifted from her spirit, leaving her reborn. Her walls were gone. There were no more lies, no more fears, no more impossible choices tearing her in two. This was Cassi, the real Cassi, full of life and joy, a woman set free.
“Let’s go,” she bade, pulling him toward the sky. “Everybody’s waiting.”
58
Cassi
In all her years spent sneaking into and out of the crystal palace, Cassi had never soared toward Sphaira with such joy in her heart. It was over. The battle she’d been waiting for her entire life and the war she’d sacrificed everything to win were finally over. She didn’t know how Lyana had done it. When last they’d spoken, she and Malek had been no closer to figuring out how to seal the rift. But the House of Peace now rested in the sea. The sky had fallen. The spell was unmade. Cassi knew her best friend, she knew her queen—there was no way Lyana would have let the prophecy fail. She’d seen it through. She’d succeeded.
They’d won.
And yet, an eerie feeling crept down her spine as crystal domes appeared through the dense fog. In the sparkling sun, the skyline had always glittered majestically, the jewel of the kingdom. Now, the sight of so much ice and gray made it feel strangely ghostlike, a shadow of its former glory. A mix of distant cries and groaning filled the air. Doves sifted through the mist, their wings blending in with the monotony, while the injured called out from below. Rubble littered the streets. Some fires still burned, though not nearly as badly as in Da’Kin. The dragons were long gone. Why, then, weren’t the people rejoicing?
“It’s too quiet,” Xander said from her left, a frown upon his lips. “Something’s wrong.”
Cassi swallowed as her chest tightened. “Their home just fell into the sea. People are scared and injured. We should have expected this somberness.”
“Maybe,” he murmured noncommittally as he surveyed the streets. “But where’s Lyana? I would’ve thought…”
That she’d be out healing the weak?
That she’d be out calming their fears?
Cassi had thought so too.
“She must be at the palace. Come on.”
When they arrived, the front entrance was smashed beyond recognition, the grand door nothing more than a pile of wood among the ice. Mist infiltrated the hall beyond, shrouding the view. They glided through the opening, moving at a hesitant pace, both worried about what they’d find, yet neither willing to give that fear life.
“Who are you?” The voice boomed across the haze, and Cassi recognized it immediately—Lyana’s father, the King of the House of Peace. “Where did you come from? And for the last time, what have you done with my daughter?”
“Nothing.”
Cold dread dripped down Cassi’s throat as the defiant response echoed through the atrium, the softly spoken word reverberating across the silence until it gained a life of its own.
No.
She raced ahead, forgetting about Xander, forgetting about Lyana and Rafe, forgetting about everything except the sudden fear twisting her insides. Captain Rokaro knelt on the colorful mosaic floor in the heart of the dove palace, her arms bound behind her back, her single caramel wing arched high, a proud tilt to her chin. By her side, three of her crew sat in chains—Brighty, Leech, and Spout. Jolt lay sprawled on the floor before them, an arrow in her shoulder as blood leaked across the tiles, her whimpers the only sign she was alive. A troop of guards surrounded them, weapons drawn, and across the perimeter of the atrium, the royal families of all the houses watched. Cassi landed at a run.
“Stop!” Her shout cut across the room like a blade. Heads turned, none faster than her mother’s, those colorful fabrics swirling as she snapped her face to the side. Fear flashed deep in her icy irises—a warning.
It came too late.
Two spears blocked Cassi’s path. She ran into them, folding in half as hands grabbed her arms. Glancing from left to right, she recognized the faces of the two guards holding her, but couldn’t recall their names. Still, they must have known her, the best friend of the former princess. Yet when she tried to shrug them off, they only dug their fingers in deeper.
“What are you doing? Let go!”
“What is the meaning of this?” Xander boomed, exuding authority as he came to a regal stop by her side, his wings rippling like liquid obsidian, his jaw set and his expression strong. “Unhand her now.”
“Not so fast,” Lyana’s father ordered. He’d always been jovial and kind, a bit of a pushover when it came to his daughter. At that moment, Cassi didn’t recognize him. The man had been like a father to her, but his gaze slid over her as if she were dirt, his brown eyes as cold as his home.
Luka stood by his side, his jaw set, his face purposefully turned away. Still, she couldn’t keep his name from rolling out of her lips like a plea.
“Luka?”
“Cassi Sky,” the dove king said, no warmth in his tone, no hint that she’d grown up in his halls beneath his watchful eye, regarded as family. “Were you or were you not born beneath the mist?”
She swallowed, her mouth going dry. “I— I—”
“Were you or were you not sent to my house to spy on my family?”
“Luka,” she begged. He closed his eyes and held them shut for just a moment too long. The truth hit her like a smack to the face, making her flinch. He’d been the one to give her up. Her mother would have died before spilling her secrets—the crew, too, out of nothing but stubborn loyalty—but for his sister, Luka would do anything. “You know the truth,” she beseeched. “Luka, you know—”
“Are you or are you not an agent of Vesevios?”
“I’m not,” she cried, turning back to the king. “I swear to you, I’m not.”
“Then tell me where my daughter is.”
“I thought she was here,” Cassi whispered, confused.
She glanced about the atrium as though Lyana might jump out from behind someone’s shoulders at any moment, revealing this to be one of her many ill-timed jokes, the mischief of their youth returning now that the world was safe and she was home. But no one moved. The room was filled with familiar faces, kings and queens she’d spent her life watching, yet none of them knew her. None would speak for her.
“I thought she was with you,” Cassi insisted.
Xander stepped forward. “This is ridiculous.”
Of course he would defend her, but the last thing she wanted to do was pull him into her mess. Cassi tried to catch his eye, to call him off, but he pointedly ignored her, the move telling. He knew exactly how stupid he was being and how thin of a line he walked. He simply didn’t care.
“Stay out of this, raven king,” Lyana’s father demanded, as if stealing the words from Cassi’s lips.
Yet Xander remained unfazed. “Lyana is my queen. If something happened to her, it is entirely my busi
ness. I demand to know what’s going on.”
“My daughter was last seen entering the sacred nest by one of our priestesses,” the dove king explained, his gaze still firmly on Cassi, suspicion gleaming like the edge of a blade. “Witnesses then saw a man with dragon wings follow her inside, trailed by that woman.” He pointed to Brighty, who curled her lip in response. “No one has seen either of them since. He was an agent of Vesevios, that much is clear, and he was working with these outsiders, these creatures from the mist. They protected him from our attacks. They helped him get into the palace. They used magic—”
“We used magic to save your bloody asses,” Brighty snapped with a sneer. “Or did you conveniently forget—”
A palm slapped her cheek, the blow loud enough to cause an echo. She didn’t cry out. She just stared daggers at the king as a gag was forced into her mouth.
Cassi hardly noticed.
No one has seen either of them since. The sentence played on repeat in her mind. No one has seen either of them since. They’d been in the nest. They’d been with the egg. They’d touched the rift. And no one had seen either of them since.
No!
She inhaled sharply, meeting Brighty’s gaze. Her opal eyes were wet with unshed tears, grief pulling at the edges. Cassi looked at her mother. The captain set her jaw in a hard line and slowly shook her head.
No.
It couldn’t be.
Panic coursed through her like a firestorm, setting her every nerve aflame. Cassi didn’t know where she found the strength, but she tore free of the guards and unfurled her wings, slamming her feathers into their faces as she took to the air. Shouts followed her. Arrows too. A yellow-laced gust of wind pushed the weapons aside, and then a searing light flashed across the atrium. Cassi had lived in these halls long enough to know where to go without needing to see, and she swept blindly through the open doorway to the sacred nest, aware the doves would be right on her heels. Her owl wings were faster, and she used her predatory grace to carve a quick path down the hall. The golden gate was sealed, but Cassi slammed into it feetfirst, flying at top speed. The door tore off its hinges and fell inward, not truly built to keep people out but rather to keep the birds in. She tumbled inside and sprinted past the trees, not slowing, not stopping, until she reached the center of the grove, where she fell to her knees, a cry on her lips.
The god stone lay open in two parts on the floor. In the space between the shells, a radiant white line hovered in the air, vibrating with a power Cassi didn’t understand.
The rift.
It wasn’t closed. It wasn’t gone.
It was still here.
Hands grabbed her by the feathers and jerked her backward. Cassi didn’t have any fight left. Her body went limp as they tied ropes around her wrists and ankles. She slid into her spirit form and let them take her, not bothering to follow when they carried her away.
Please be here, she prayed. Please be somewhere.
Lyana’s spirit had always tasted of pure life, simmering with energy and magic, bubbling with enthusiasm and power, like the warmest brush of the sun, her soul glowing with a light all its own. Cassi searched for that feeling now, pushing her magic to the limit, but she was flying in a void, nothing on either side but darkness. If Lyana were alive, if she were anywhere in this world, Cassi would have felt her.
She didn’t.
The queen was gone. The king, too. And there was only one place they could have traveled—through the rift.
The Diary
Date Unknown
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Zavier tells me it’s been weeks since my last entry, and he has lost track of time. I know no time. I am every time at once. It is a struggle to write this. Even now, the words wobble across the page, the parchment growing aged and withered to my eyes—
But I am here.
I am now, whatever now is.
With his hand on my skin, I'm more grounded in the present. When he is gone, I float in oblivion, the world a blur around me as futures oscillate across my vision, a thousand different possibilities alive at once, always changing, always shifting. But I have learned there are some things that never change—some people who are meant to live and meant to meet, whose faces never fade and never alter, the only solid points in my ever-flowing world.
I have seen how the world ends.
And I have seen how it is put back together again.
Zavier urges me to write it down, now while I'm having a lucid moment and there is still some ink left, so it is recorded in case the worst happens to us, allowing someone else to carry on the message and keep hope alive. Together, we will come up with something shorter, a poem or a prayer, something people will be able to remember, a lullaby to be passed down from generation to generation, until the chosen ones arrive.
But I'm ahead of myself already. Here, in this time, the rift is still open, and the beasts still roam free, claiming the lands for themselves. There is enough magic on this side of the peninsula to keep them distracted, but soon they'll venture over the mountains and across the seas to other lands. We must stop them before they do. And we will. I've seen it.
Zavier will create a rift spell the likes of which this world has never seen. I have told him how to do it, and he is ready. The eggs will be our anchors, and we will use the magic within them, part beast and part man, to seal shut the entrance to the other world. For a long time, the tight bind of the weave will keep them from hatching, though eventually, Zavier's magic will weaken, and the monsters will be freed from this cage. I've seen that too. I've—
I'm supposed to go in order.
What a strange concept—order doesn’t exist to me anymore.
The rift will split the land as the anchors rise into the designated positions, a complicated diamond pattern that will last longer than any other design. The avians will claim the skies. The magic in the aethi'kine egg will be sewn into the rift, and they will be able to siphon power from it to keep their kind alive. But the cost will be immense. They will discover that magic weakens the careful balance Zavier will weave, and they will banish it from their lands—all in possession of magic will die. Mikhail will be their king, and he will see this order through. He will forget that Zavier's power created this new kingdom of peace and prosperity. He will forget the priests they claim to be of their gods are really low-level spirit mages who can help channel the aethi'kine power from the rift for the soul fusions. He will forget who the real enemy is, and so will his people.
But the world below will remember.
I will make them remember.
The early days will be rough. Most of the land will be torn apart by the creation of the rift weave, and what's left will be little more than barren rock and endless sea. But some of the mages will survive, and they will lead the rest through. As the weave weakens, they will be the gatekeepers protecting the rest of the world from the beasts. They will become the hunters instead of the hunted.
And so it will be for a long time, one land above and one below, both isolated from the realms beyond and the people living in ignorance of how close to destruction their world teeters—until the saviors come. They are a dove princess and a raven warrior, two lovers always torn asunder, one with the magic to heal the world and the other, oh, I hate to even write his fate. He will be the only of his kind, and I have not seen far enough to know if it will destroy him. Perhaps I don't want to look. In a battle of fire and snow, they will save the world. At least, that is what they and their people will think.
But it won’t be so.
They will delay the inevitable, yes, and will have played their parts, but there is another face I see across the ages, always with perfect clarity. Her skin is freckled. Her hair is as blonde as corn stalks. Her honey eyes are as fierce as the noon rays of the sun. She is a spatio'kine, the first of her kind in hundreds of years, born on the other side of the great mountains, and she will be the one to finally seal the rift.
At least, I pray she will.
I hav
e not seen the end. Time is a fickle master, and it keeps secrets even from me, but I know enough to know the fate of everyone lies in her.
If anyone is reading this, please, I pray you find her.
Find her and find salvation.
Find her and be free.
Thank you for reading!
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I hope you enjoyed my novel, The Dragon and the Queen! If you have a moment, please consider leaving a review. Even a few words can make a huge difference in someone deciding to give my book a chance.
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The Dragon and the Queen (The Raven and the Dove Book 3) Page 42