Page 169 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

As I slipped into place beside Riven and Jax, I glanced to the center of the grounds, where something new waited.

Zander approached the raised platform where Major Ledor and Major Kaler stood, both straight-backed and solemn. Each held a banner I didn’t recognize.

One was a red sickle against a stark white field, bold and blood-bright.

The other sent a cold shiver down my spine, a crimson and gold emblem, shaped like a cage… with a dragon inside it.

“What is that?” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath.

Jax shifted beside me, his shoulders rigid. “I think we’re about to find out.”

Major Kaler stepped forward, his face grim beneath the silver trim of his armor, his voice carrying over the silent grounds like a blade drawn from its sheath.

“Riders,” he began, “we have a new threat.”

He lifted the first banner, the white field blazoned with a sickle-red crescent, and the wind caught it like a curse.

“This emblem has been hung in various locations throughout Warriath,” he said. “And we have received confirmation it has begun to appear in other kingdoms as well, predominantly those to the east.”

I felt my spine stiffen, the wind suddenly colder against the back of my neck.

“They call themselves The Crimson Sigil,” he continued, voice flat with barely checked fury, “and their mission is simple, they intend to eradicate all fae bloodlines. They believe this will secure humanity’s future. That by removing all magic tied to the fae, they can survive without being enslaved… or worse, eliminated by the Blood Fae.”

A low groan rippled through the assembled riders. Some curses. Others whispered. Even the dragons above shifted uneasily, their wings rustling in the sky.

But then Major Ledor stepped forward, and his face, usually calm, was ashen.

“I’m afraid they are not the greatest threat,” he said, lifting the second banner high.

The crowd fell utterly silent as it unfurled.

At first, it looked regal, until you realized what it depicted.

A dragon. Curled in on itself. Trapped inside a cage.

No flight. No fire. Just containment.

“This,” Major Ledor said, “is the banner of the Varnari.”

A sharp intake of breath beside me—Riven. I couldn’t look away from the image.

“They are a sect,” Ledor continued, “made up of common-born magic users, warders, ex-military, even former assassins. Some come from the ruins of fallen noble houses. Others from guilds they believe abandoned them.”

He let the banner fall lower as he paced the edge of the dais.

“They believe the dragons should serve them.That Fourth Guild, our traditions, our legacy, should be dismantled. They believe dragonkind can be bent to its will. Controlled. Used.”

My stomach twisted violently. The bile rose in my throat.

“They wish to overthrow the throne,” Ledor said, voice grim, “and shape the world in their own image.”

My eyes locked on the image of the caged dragon, and something inside me snapped.

I gasped, barely aware I’d done it, the sound sharp and raw.

Kaelith’s voice flared in my mind, a hiss of rage like molten stone.

Let them try,she growled.And they’ll see just how fast their cages melt in dragon fire.