Page 105 of Destined Dawn

The sun has begun its dip back towards the horizon when the houses and buildings become more frequent, crowding around each other in ever-increasing numbersuntil there’s nothing but buildings in all directions and I know we’ve reached the capital. We’re still so high in the sky that no one blinks an eyelid at us, mistaking us for a small flock of passing birds. Or maybe they would know what we were if they weren’t too afraid to lift their heads and look to the sky.

We turn away from the city, over the countryside, Arrow Hart there in the distance, the mansion almost mended on the brow of its hill. The windows flash red with the setting sun and it’s as if the school itself has seen us, knows we’re coming.

I hold my breath.

Were we right to come here?

“There are guards at the school now,” Tristan calls out.

“Then we take them out,” Spencer says, cracking his knuckles. Considering how Christopher Kennedy’s guards treated Spencer when he was being held captive, I can understand his enthusiasm to impart some revenge.

“You think that’s possible?” Azlan asks.

Tristan pats the dragon he’s riding. “Yeah, I think we could.”

“The students might turn on us, though,” I point out. “If the school is full of mini-Summers then–”

“Don’t they love those dudes?” Renzo asks, pointing at Tristan and Spencer.

“Not me anymore,” Spencer says.

“Then him.” Renzo points back at Tristan.

“I don’t know …” Tristan says. But it’s obvious he’s being modest. It doesn’t matter what Summer or his dad or anyone else might say. Tristan Kennedy is popular for a reason and I think most of the student body would follow him right off the edge of a cliff if he told them to.

“Are you sure this is where we should go, sweetheart?” Stone asks.

“Yes,” I say. “I think that’s what the prophecy means. I just have this feeling.”

A feeling and a dream. That dream from way back when. The dream where everything is burning around me. I didn’t know what it was, what it meant. But now as it flashes through my mind, I recognize features of the place I’m flying above – the academy. I’d dismissed that dream as a prediction about the attack on the academy all those weeks ago. But it never really fit. The dream signified the end. The end of the story. Of my story.

We’re flying towards my destiny. I am sure of that.

37

Tristan

We hearthe first shouts as we swoop down towards the academy followed by bolts of magic firing our way. The dragons spiral back up into the sky again and then downwards, but unlike the night of the Victory Ball, they don’t scorch everything to ashes with their fire.

None of us wants the academy destroyed again and either the dragons sense that from us or Rhi has given them some kind of command. Instead, we fire our own magic. It’s only the guards my dad stationed here that attack us, the handful of students out on the paths run for cover, hurrying into dormitories or classrooms.

My magic has changed. It’s stronger than before and more free flowing. It comes easily when called and I don’t even have to form the thought, don’t even need to visualize what I want my magic to do, it’s already doing it.

I knock one of the guards down easily, despite the way he twists and turns, and I take out another two fighting side by side with one flick of my fingers. In front of me my cousin fights just as deftly, striking a handful of guards at once and sending them flying like tenpins struck by a ball.

Then the great doors of the mansion open and most of the faculty come pouring out into the grounds, heads raised our way, hands moving that way too.

“No,” I shout at them, “don’t shoot!”

I see York in the middle of the group, her eyes meeting mine and then moving over the others, recognition forming on her face. She hesitates. Then lowers her hands and shoots at one of the guards instead. The teachers around her stand gaping, stunned, and then Coach Hank follows suit, firing his magic at another of the guards and several of the others follow his example.

“What are you doing?” I hear Dr. Johnson screech, her glasses tumbling off her nose, catching on the chain around her neck. “The Lord Protector–”

“Shut up Diana!” Coach Hank yells at her so fiercely, she whimpers and shrinks away.

The guards are outnumbered. Vastly outnumbered. Half of them turn on their heels and run, the other half raise their hands above their heads and surrender.

Coach Hank and a couple of the other teachers gather them up into a circle and then York rests her hands on her hips and shouts up to us: