Page 30

“Careful. It’d be so unfortunate if you fell.”

I shot him a look over my shoulder. "HowcouldI fall off? I’m practically glued to you."

I felt my panic rising, creeping up from my chest and tightening my throat. This was nothing like riding a horse. There were no reins. No straps to hold on to. I was at the mercy of a giant, stubborn beast.

“Tryggar!” I yelled, half panicked, half frustrated, trying to press my heels against his side, but the Vördr just kept flying as if it was his sole mission to get as high as possible, indifferent to my distress.

Aether’s voice broke through my mounting frustration. “You need to control him, not just yell at him.”

“I’m not yelling at him, I’m begging him!” I snapped back, the words coming out in a breathless hiss as Tryggar’s wings flared wide. We tilted dangerously, diving too steeply toward the ground. I could see the ruined village below, the broken rooftops and cracked stone, and my heart skipped a beat. He was flying straight towards it.

“Esprithe, Aether, we’re going to die!” I shouted, panic flooding my voice as the ground rushed up too fast.

“Are you screaming for the Esprithe or for me?” he asked simply, even as we fell in a jarring descent.

“What do Ido?” I shouted.

Aether’s voice stayed calm, his tone no longer amused but sharp, almost as if I were the one being unreasonable. “You need to slow him down. Press your heels, and tug back on the horn of the saddle—don’t just hang on like you’re about to fall off.”

“I’m trying! It’s like he doesn’t even feel it—” I half-screamed, clenching my fists as the ground was getting closer. Tryggar’s descent was too fast, too much.

“Press with your heels, Fia! He’s not just going to stop because you ask him to!”

I gritted my teeth, digging my heels harder against the Vördr just as Aether shifted, and slammed his legs against mine, shoving them hard into the beast. If we weren’t potentially falling to our doom, I would have killed him for the complete invasion of feeling him so—utterly—intenselyagainstme. Heat ripped through me as his form tightened. His breath warmed my ear even as the wind whipped past us. Every part of me wanted to jab him in the ribs.

With one last final thrust from Aether—one that felt as if it could have shattered my legs—finally, Tryggar’s wings shifted, slowing our descent. It was sudden, but it was enough. Just as I was about to squirm away from him, Aether loosened his grip and slid back in the saddle. We were still touching, but his body wasn’tsurroundingmine anymore.

I exhaled sharply, but I could still feel my heart pounding in my chest as the ground loomed closer. I forced myself to pull against the horn, trying to keep my hands steady as the wind pushed against us.

The ground was just ahead now. I could make out the dilapidated structures—splintered wood and broken stone. Tryggar tilted his wings slightly, not a moment too soon, and we landed with a jarring thud on the cracked earth below.

Tryggar snorted, stretching his neck as he pawed at the dirt, completely unfazed.

I, on the other hand, felt like I might collapse right there in the saddle. My hands were still gripping the saddle like my life depended on it, my chest heaving with the aftershock.

I swung off Tryggar with shaky legs, barely managing to keep my balance. I nearly stumbled after hitting the ground from such a height, my boots sending puffs of ash into the air.

Aether didn’t even acknowledge my near meltdown. “Well, we survived.”

I shot him a look over my shoulder, heart still racing. “No thanks to you.”

I hunched over, hands perched on my knees, and caught my breath.

“You’re a miserable instructor,” I shot in Aether’s direction, “and Tryggar, we’re going to need to have a talk back at the stables.”

The Vördr simply pranced off, throwing up dust in his wake as he approached some twisted, skeletal trees. “He’s not going to leave us out here, right?” I asked.

“He’ll stay close.” Aether’s voice had taken on a different tone. He was looking just past me, something like regret spreading across those sharp features, his dark hair sweeping off his forehead in the breeze. I stood and turned, only to find he was staring at what must have been a garden at some point, a long time ago.

The soil was cracked and dry, a gray-brown that barely resembled earth anymore. No weeds, no grass, not even the faintest hint of life could be seen. Where plants had once stood, there were only twisted, brittle remains—stalks and stems snapped or shriveled to nothing. Rusted trellises sagged at odd angles, their frames tangled with remnants of vines that had long since withered away. Rows that had once been filled with vegetables were now just empty furrows, the soil so barren it seemed hollow. No insects, no birds, no sign of anything thriving.

A quiet stillness rushed across the landscape as I took it in.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“This was the village of Croyg,” he said, moving past me and into the garden, twigs snapping beneath his boots. “It was the biggest supplier of produce in the realm.”

“When did it fall?”