Page 77

N ix flew alongside Kyril, their wings flapping in rhythm, matching pace in the piercing rays of the rising sun. The gryphon was larger than Nix now, so big that it was nearly unthinkable.

Though she’d never admit it, it had been nice having him nearby as they’d flown through the night.

Vahly’s capture had truly shaken Nix to the bone.

She wasn’t sure why she’d never thought the sea kynd could get their hands on Vahly, but honestly, she’d thought everything would work out, that they would win the day.

Especially after the new magic Kyril had given to Vahly with their bonding.

Green fire to back up dragonfire? How could their enemies stand against it?

But now, with Vahly leagues away, buried in water…

Kyril squawked and veered toward Nix, gently brushing a feathered wing against her own reptilian one. She gave him a nod.

You’re a good one, gryphon. I should come up with a nickname for you.

Kyril suddenly dipped and began a quick descent.

Had she upset him?

But then Nix saw exactly why he was flying toward the ground like a falling star.

The scrub-and-vine strewn mountains led into a ravine that surrounded the plateau on which the Forest of Illumahrah grew.

Nix was fairly certain that ravine had been dry and covered in spindly trees.

Now, sea water churned against the plateau, waves splashing into the ancient forest.

Nix’s heart stuttered. What was this?

The forest—the oldest on the island, the one the elves had called home since the beginning of time, the very birthplace of all life where the original Blackwater rested in the Source’s primary spring—lay in ruins.

It wasn’t even her homeland, but the pain of this loss filled her bones, cracking marrow and shunting pain from head to tail.

Astraea had attacked the elves. With spelled salt water and thundering waves, she’d swamped the plateau.

And while the water had mostly sloughed off now, the damage was done, leaving only a blackened mess of what had been a peaceful, thriving civilization.

Had the Sea Queen struck because she knew Arc was helping Vahly, the Earth Queen, the only one capable of gaining power equal to hers?

Without the elves, Arc had no one to join him in aiding Vahly in her escape from the sea. Was he now the last of his kynd like Vahly? Tears pricked Nix’s eyes.

They had to see if there were any survivors.

If Cassiopeia had made it through, there was still hope for Arc’s plan to rip Vahly from the sea kynd’s grip.

Nix slid into a glide beside Kyril. In their two shadows, immense oaks lay like grass flattened by a storm’s wind. Wide-leafed ferns, wildflowers, and mosses sat in heaps, sending the smell of mildew and rot into the early autumn breeze.

Kyril shook his dark, feathered head and flew west. Nix trailed him, taking up an air current that seemed too kind and gentle to exist above such horror.

Below, hundreds of bloating corpses littered the forest floor. The stench gripped Nix’s snout and turned her stomach.

We need to search for their queen, Kyril. Pale hair. Powerful.

Tasting the sour wind, Nix considered what the gryphon might or might not understand. But it wouldn’t hurt to inform him. Heart breaking for Arcturus and what this meant for him, Nix scanned Illumahrah for any movement.

But there was nothing. Aside from the rustle of leaves crusted with salt and curling as they died, not a sound issued from the earth.

When would Arc arrive in Tidehame? Nix wondered if she should leave now and try to fly over the sea kynd’s civilization to attempt to speak telepathically with Arc and inform him that he would be without further aid from his kynd.

Kyril veered southward, and Nix stayed just behind him.

No, she couldn’t give up just yet. If there were any who’d lived through this, they needed aid now.

No food or drinkable water would be found in this disaster.

No healing from their fellow kynd. This might be the only chance to find and save the last of Arc’s kynd. They had to keep searching.

Head for the Source’s spring, Nix said to Kyril. The Blackwater.

League after league they flew, back and forth, zigzagging across the plateau on their way to the spring, witnessing the devastation.

Silver pines snapped into halves and drawn into circles by whirlpools.

Boulders dragged through deep mud by what had to have been incredibly powerful currents driven by water magic.

Elven bodies with bright hair dashed against rocks.

The elves’ younglings torn limb from limb, the teeth marks of sea monsters visible as Nix and Kyril swooped low to check for survivors.

More dead, some who looked only to be sleeping peacefully, their eyes closed forever, hands outstretched as if reaching for one another in their final moments.

Finally, Nix nudged Kyril with her wing tip and headed for a landing place near what had once been the royal palace.

Wing joints aching and her old wounds pulsing, she dropped from the sky beside Kyril.

The gryphon shook out his massive wings, then tucked them by his sides.

The tree palace looked like an emptied husk, velvets and sparkling jewels spilling from its broken walls.

Inside, floodwaters had stripped the floors bare of the carpets of moss and fine fabrics.

There was no sign of the long table that had sat in the great hall.

No more scrolls like the ones Vahly had told Nix about.

Nix transformed and grabbed a wine-colored tunic that had snagged on a branch against the oaken palace.

The salt water had crusted the fabric, but it was whole enough to serve.

She ripped two openings for her wings. The clasp at the neck had been roughed up, but it held.

A shudder hit her as she pulled the garment over her head and wings.

The spells would be long gone, so the water wouldn’t hurt her, but still, the scent, the feel of the salt…

She shook again before calling out. “We are here to help! Is anyone here?” The smell was horrifying. She took up a corner of the long tunic and held it over her nose.

Kyril walked behind her, clucking worriedly. Nix glanced at him over her shoulder. His feathers and twitching lion’s tail brushed the fallen trees and stone debris that crowded the way from the palace to the spring.

He let out a plaintive screech.

Nix stepped over a muddied collection of wooden bowls and red berries, a crushed archery target, and a glittering array of crystal. Had the Blackwater spring survived this? Would it be tainted with spelled salt water?

As if in answer to her unspoken question, the scent of the Source’s spring danced through the terrible odors, cleansing and calming, leading the way.

The stones around the spring lay in disarray, but there in the center was the Blackwater, sparkling black with hints of Lapis blue, fire red, and gold.

She gave Kyril a sad smile. “Well, at least some things remain.”

Kyril settled himself beside the pool of sacred water. He tucked his legs underneath himself like a mountain cat, and if they hadn’t been through such a day, Nix would have told him to sit more grandly as befits a flying creature. The gryphon eyed her with large eyes, his head high above hers.

For such a peaceful place, the Forest of Illumahrah had crushing sadness for Nix. She felt the presence of Dramour, Ibai, and Kemen. Their loss would never be far from her mind.

Lifting her gaze from the dazzling spring and its whispering power, she eyed the surrounding debris. “Anyone? We cannot stay. Please call out if you are alive. We are friends.”

The wind rose and tossed a strand of her red hair over her shoulder, where it caught on the tunic’s clasp. She started to work the tangle, then froze.

“Kyril, did you hear that?”

He perked up, swiveling his head in the direction of the noise.

Nix walked past the spring. It had barely been anything to note.

A short punch of hollow sound like someone had struck a broken bell.

Twigs strangled in seaweed snapped underfoot and sand found its way between Nix’s toes.

Gritting her teeth against these reminders of the sea folk, she wound her way through two trees that had been twisted together by the spelled waves, their branches like reaching claws.

Kyril growled, going still beside her.

On a hill just above them, a cave spilled out three forms.