Page 103

G reat pools of salt water lay around the northern mountains like the land itself had bled out in murky shades of gray and blue. Kyril pumped his wings, then soared down to a treeless flat on the top of one of the highest points.

They’d flown the full distance in silence, none calling out or speaking telepathically.

It was as if the quiet, the sound of wind and wings only, had served to steel them up for what would come next and what they would have to face upon landing.

They’d lost so many. And there would be ongoing questions about survivors yet undiscovered.

There were the Jades to think of too. A messenger would need to be sent.

Nix alighted beside Kyril and Vahly, and everyone else—Helena, Ruda, Lapis younglings, the one-winged kitchen Lapis, numerous Call Breakers, and around thirty adult Lapis—gathered around Vahly.

Magic knocked a steady rhythm against her heart as she thought of Amona. Had she taken off? Was she alive? Was she headed here now, or was she still trying to save more Lapis from high places they had missed in their desperate flight to escape?

Kyril flashed an image into Vahly’s mind.

An oak with gnarled limbs spread roots under a carpet of bright yellow eguzkilore with prickly, sage-green leaves.

The expanse of thistle flowers made it seem as if the sun itself had broken into a thousand pieces and fallen to the oak’s feet.

This was the Sacred Oak. Immediately, Vahly thought of the Forest of Illumahrah, and, of course, the disaster that had destroyed it.

“Where did you see the Sacred Oak?” she asked Kyril aloud.

“What is it?” Arc finished healing the injured, his crown of day and night swirling around his head and his fingers limned in sparkling magic.

“I must go to the Sacred Oak. Kyril has seen it. But I thought it was in the Forest of Illumahrah. I feel like it’s there. But how can it be there still after all that happened?”

Kyril showed Vahly an adult male and female gryphon. They flicked their tails in the same way Kyril often did. The oak materialized between them.

Vahly looked at Arc. “Is there something such as hereditary memory? Because I’m fairly certain Kyril just showed me that he has some of his parents’ memories.”

“I don’t know the magic of the gryphons. I’d say it’s possible. As for where the Sacred Oak is, I don’t know. If we go back to Illumahrah…” His voice broke, and he glanced at Rigel, Haldus, and Ursae. “We might find it is submerged again.”

Vahly’s magic pushed, insistent, demanding that she leave now for the elves’ demolished homeland. “I have to try.”

Helena was crying quietly. “But Vahly, if you get there and there is no place to land, you’ll die.”

“I can raise the land we need.” At least she hoped she would be able to. If Astraea attacked at the wrong moment, she might not have the time. “Who will go with me?”

In full dragon form, Amona soared out of the sky, her sapphire wings turning the sun into shadow. She held two injured Lapis in her foreclaws. Three more rode atop her back.

I will come with you, Daughter , Amona said inside Vahly’s mind.

Helena, Ruda, Arc, and the other elves rushed over to help the wounded.

“Matriarch Amona will fly with me,” Vahly said, forcing the torn pieces of her soul to stay together. “Who else is with me?”

Arc finished healing the Lapis, then stood, his face solemn and his cloak whipping in the wind. “Do you even need to ask?” He smiled grimly.

His words sealed a portion of her soul back together. “Thank you, King Arcturus.”

Nix, in her human form, crossed her arms. “You’re always going to be stuck with me, Queenie.”

Vahly put a hand on Nix’s shoulder, and they traded a look that held more shared emotions than Vahly could voice aloud.

Aitor was whispering with Baww and Euskal. Euskal’s face was blank with shock. Aitor spun to face Vahly and Nix. “If it’s all right with Nix, I’m game for the adventure.”

“You’re well enough now?” Nix asked eyeing his scales to check for plague symptoms, but he looked hearty and hale to Vahly.

“As healthy as any of us can be, I’d imagine.” Aitor’s gaze flicked to Amona, who remained in her full dragon form, staring past the mountaintops in the direction of her palace.

Vahly longed for a moment of comfort. Her arms ached to hold Arc. He seemed to sense her longing and hurried to her side. She pulled him away from the group.

“Arc…” A shudder shook her as she tried to get the words out. “The Lapis… I thought Astraea had taken you under for good. I thought we were all dead.”

Arc took her face in his hands, and a tingling warmth sparked her cheeks where his fingertips touched skin. Concern filled his eyes. “My queen. You saved us. And you will again.”

She brushed a hand over his chest, her thumb catching on his sharp collarbone and the muscle underneath his cloak. “We combined our magic. It worked. But still, she was so fast.”

There was no need to say who she was talking about. She knew well he was imagining the horror of Queen Astraea’s cresting, impossible wave just as clearly as her.

Arc drew her close, and she pressed her nose beneath his chin, smelling the pine sap and mint scent of his air magic.

His presence was another cloak on her shoulders, luxurious, velvet, warm.

But they had to keep moving. There was no time to dwell on these pleasures.

Astraea would come again, and she would finish them next time.

Vahly broke away from Arc slowly, reluctantly, then led him to the edge of the drop where Aitor and Nix stood talking in hushed whispers.

Wind sheared up the cliff and snaked into collars and around throats, a cold like death in its touch. Kyril and Amona spread their wings behind the smaller group, holding off some of the northern air, protecting with sinew, flesh, bone, and feather.

Vahly brushed her arm against Arc’s body to feel his warmth and soak in his presence.

Then she took Nix’s hand, memorizing the feel of every scale and the impressions of treasured rings—destroyed when Nix had suddenly shifted form during the attack—now lost along with life as they had known it, their homes, and so many loved ones.

The sunset poured fire across the endless blade of sea that had brought the island to its knees.

“Thank you, Ryton. I hope you found peace.” Vahly’s voice was as rough as the rocky soil beneath her feet. She glanced at Amona, Kyril, Arc, Nix, and Aitor, taking strength from the fight in their eyes.

“Even if we fail,” she said, raising her raw voice to battle the sound of wind and water, “I’m proud to have fought beside you, to have called you friends.”