Page 49 of Dreams and Dragon Wings (Clean Fairytales for Adults #2)

Aurelia

I scream and curl in on myself, fumbling a weave of Spirit into place just as I explode through the wall like a shooting star.

But my makeshift protection is not enough.

Pain lances through me like liquid fire. My back arches. My mouth opens in a scream that never comes.

Cold night air greets my skin. The ground rushes toward me. My mind panics, forgetting everything—how to weave, what to do.

I clench my eyes shut and brace myself, a whimper catching in my throat.

But the hard impact I expect with the dry earth never comes.

Emerald light burns beyond my eyelids. Something strong yet pliable wraps around my back, bringing my fall to an abrupt stop. I groan as my head snaps back with such force that my stomach churns.

But I’m all right. I’m safe.

Dazed within my vine hammock, I open my eyes and blink at the gaping hole in Umbra Castle’s wall that I left behind.

My father stares at me through the opening, threads of Earth shimmering in his grasp.

“Therya’fey!” Velda’s voice calls out a mere second before a dragon’s roar splits the night.

My father disappears from view, and the vines beneath me dissolve, gently depositing me on my feet. Screeches pierce the air from the direction of the castle—cries of pain, fear, and goblin rage.

In the next moment, the already damaged wall explodes outward, littering the ground with more crushed stone. Malice emerges into the night in all his draconic glory, black scales glistening. Eyes glowing red.

My chest tightens as I mumble a hasty, “I give my gift to the Flora Vale.”

No ceremony. No pomp.

There is no longer time for such things.

Time seems to slow as my hands pulse with my innate Jewel power, giving life to a golden globe of light like a miniature sun. As Malice screams his dragon fury and flies straight toward me. As he pulls in threads of Fire, collecting them in his maw, his throat.

But it is too late.

It is already done.

The light shoots away from me and crashes into the earth several paces away, sinking in like water into parched soil. For a moment, all goes dark and still. Even Malice draws to a pause. The goblins gather in the dust of the ruined great hall and stare.

In the stillness, Velda flutters close and hovers at my shoulder, watching with me as we witness a miracle—

The Flora Vale being reborn.

Night seems to turn to day as light spills outward from the earth, bringing with it an explosion of color. The grass turns green. Flowers return. Breathless, I stare in wonder as the golden glow of my gift ripples outward, fanning across the grounds. Making straight for the castle.

The goblins still within flinch backward, chattering nervously as Umbra Castle is consumed by my gift’s gleam.

Naei , it is Umbra Castle no longer.

It is once again Castle Illume.

Years of filth fall away in an instant, turning black stone back to alabaster marble. Revealing beautiful floral carvings etched into every surface.

Upward my glow climbs, trailing across every tower, burning away every hint of shadow and darkness.

Gnarled, dead vines explode into lush ivy once more—ivy that unfurls like the petals of a flower to reveal a bell tower hiding beneath and a brilliant bell wreathed in more light, shining like a celestial body all its own.

Dong .

The bell tolls bright and sweet, shivering the air with its cry.

Malice flinches away and lets loose with another roar, as if the sound brings him pain.

“You stupid girl!” he shouts into my mind, making me wince and fall back. “You’ve wasted it! You worthless, idiotic—”

“Velda,” I gasp, trying to block him out. But weakness clings to me like a damp cloak. I am not sure how much more I can weave. Perhaps I have given too much of myself to the land.

But I don’t regret a single moment of it. This is what I was born to do.

My gift was never meant for Friedemar. Nor Malice. Nor Bene. Nor even me.

It was meant for the Vale. For my people .

“We must hurry,” she urges, flitting around me, weaving threads of Spirit to lend me what strength she can spare. But I can plainly see the way her light flickers as she does.

Even she can only weave so much.

Dong .

The bell rings again, and the ground abruptly shifts beneath me, rippling like a sheet of fabric. Frantic, I reach for Velda and hold her cupped within my hands just as I speed away from Malice, carried off by the rolling waves of grass and flowers beneath us rather than by my own two legs.

Earth . Someone is weaving Earth to aid me.

I look around, hunting for any sign of my father. Instead, I find two winged goblins fluttering just overhead, keeping pace with me as they command the ground beneath my feet. As I watch, their leathery wings dissipate, shifting into those of glittering butterflies instead.

Pixies. They were once pixies.

Dong .

Malice’s latest screech echoes behind me, drawing closer by the moment despite the speed with which we circle about the castle, making for the courtyard, the brambles, the tower. I don’t dare look back.

I fear I might lose my resolve if I do.

“Velda!” I shout over the whistle of the wind. “What is that bell?”

“It’s the Bell of Illume,” she whispers, staring up in awe at the once-pixies aiding us. “It rings to warn of intruders who mean the Vale and its people harm. It will not stop ringing until the intruder is either expelled or dealt with.”

One of the creatures above us croaks, “ Therya’fey and her champion must fight the intruder!”

I almost laugh. They can’t possibly think Velda and I have enough strength to ward off Malice on our own? Even if I weren’t exhausted, the dragon chasing us down is nearly twice my age.

And far better trained than I probably ever will be.

The tower looms close. The glow of my gift illuminates the brambles encircling it, turning them into a verdant hedge maze once more.

Suddenly, I realize the once-pixie meant Bene, not Velda.

They think the dragon trapped in the tower is my champion.

That realization clarifies as the ground beneath me abruptly comes to a stop, and I stumble forward, almost pitching face-first into the outer hedge of the maze.

And into Ghoul, who guards the maze’s entrance.

“Quickly, Therya’fey !” the once-pixies urge me.

I kick off my mother’s shoes and hurry forward, but Ghoul doesn’t step aside.

The green-skinned goblin simply looks up at me, confusion burning on his features. “I think I know you,” he rasps, straightening his hunched back just a little. “You’re my… my niece.”

Dong .

Emerald light flashes behind me, swiftly followed by crimson and a wave of heat that drives me forward until I nearly bump into the goblin blocking my path.

“Yes,” I confirm, nervous energy crackling through me. “Forgive me, but I must go.”

Threads of Earth spring to Ghoul’s fingertips as he gives me a fang-filled smile.

“I even remember my green-name, too.” The hedge maze bends to his will, peeling outward layer by layer to provide me with a straight path forward.

“I’m Aspen val’Anasi,” he proclaims loud and proud, standing a little taller.

He urges me onward with a wave of his clawed hand. “Uncle to the queen!”

My heart swells as I dart down the path Aspen provides as quickly as my wobbly legs will allow. The maze closes in around me with each step I take, hedges snapping back into place once I pass.

“I can fly, you know,” Velda comments from where I still hold her cupped in my hands.

But I shake my head. “Save your strength. We still have more work to do.”

Dong .

Gouts of flame paint the sky red. Finally, the glow of my gift recedes, pitching the Vale into night once more. In the darkness, war ignites. The sounds of fighting ring out behind me. The screams of my people. Malice’s enraged cries.

I run all the faster, the threat of tears misting my eyes. The fae of the Vale fight for me. But I do not know how long they can last.

The door to the tower lingers just beyond the next hedge. I dive toward it, panting for air, sweat already shimmering on my skin from such a small exertion. Just a little further , I pray. Give me the strength to go just a little further .

Before I can launch myself through the door, my father steps in front of me, tears gleaming in his own gaze. Though he still looks more goblin than elf, he now stands at eye level with me.

“ Na raiya ohn sha, ” he greets, bowing low. “I rejoice to see you, dearest daughter.”

My breath catches in my throat. A single tear spills from the corner of my eye and trails down my cheek. Malice’s latest scream pierces the air, reminding me of why I should hurry.

But no one can take this moment from me.

“Na raiya ohn sha,” I repeat, carefully sounding out the syllables. “Father.”

When Rowan lifts his head, his face now glistens with happy tears. A smile now curves his lips.

Dong .

Vines sprout beneath me and wrap around my bare feet, bearing me upward before I can utter another word. The ground falls away. The maze grows distant. Above the hedges, I can see plainly the scars Malice has already left on our home. Grass smolders. Trees blaze against the night sky.

Bodies lie motionless. Injured. Dead.

Fury blazes through my soul, devouring the last vestiges of exhaustion that still cling to me as I stare at the black-winged dragon terrorizing my people.

My glow flares brighter. Threads of Air and Spirit gather around my fingertips. The latter forms into a single arrow of light, sharpened to a vicious point.

“Malice!” I scream, launching my voice and arrow alike toward him on that gust of Air. My Spirit bolt flies faster than I can track, but it strikes true, lodging itself between the scales of his throat.

A pained roar thunders forth, bringing with it a fresh pillar of flame. His great head swivels toward me. Columns of smoke unfurl from his nostrils. Murder flashes in his eyes.

Velda takes to the sky, flitting through the broken window of the tower and disappearing within. “Hurry!” she urges me, her voice already distant.

My father’s vines stop growing, depositing me on the stone ledge I once tried to reach with mere will and feeble strength alone. I don’t hesitate. I don’t think. I just duck and follow Velda inside.

Broken glass scrapes against my head and shoulders as I pass, breaking skin and drawing blood.

My attention falls to Bene, where he lies on the floor, his face wan, his eyes darting here and there behind his closed eyelids, as if searching for something even in his sleep. Blood stains his form, as if somehow, even trapped in sleep for the past few days, he has managed to become wounded.

“Bene,” I whisper, relief bringing me to my knees.

Beside him rest Brisa and Glorana, barely any light left clinging to their tiny forms.

“My sisters,” Velda weeps, hovering over them.

Dong .

Malice’s roar rends the air just outside the tower, deafening me. I wince, my concentration wavering as I stare down at the intricate weave of Mind, Spirit, and something else—something dark—binding my dragon king and his aunties to their nightmare prison.

The Aether gathers around me, steadying my trembling form, filling me with warmth and light. Sudden understanding dawns in my mind.

The dark smudges staining the weave are not magic at all. They are merely slivers of Malice’s tainted soul—pieces of himself he sacrificed to strengthen the curse.

I stare in horror, my mind reeling.

What am I supposed to do now?

“Get ready, Velda!” I shout as heat gathers just outside the window. Fire.

Malice intends to roast us alive.

I have no thoughts. No plan. Nothing but pure instinct and Velda’s previous insistence that curses are meant to be broken.

I press my hands against Bene’s chest and bow my head over his prone form. His heart stutters feebly beneath my touch.

Please , I pray. Help us.

Aloud, I whisper, “ Na’theryn, ” drawing in what strength I have left and letting it pour from me to him. All my love. Every happy memory we ever shared. Every midnight flight. Every letter.

“ Na velar sha. Tir’anor .”

My glow returns, thrumming bright, burning away the stains Malice’s Shade has left behind. Beside me, Velda flares silver as she murmurs something over her sisters, calling to them with her undying love.

Just as I call to Bene with mine.

“Come back to me,” I implore, my fingers digging into the front of his shirt, burying themselves within the purple silk and holding tight. “Please, Na’theryn . I need you.”

The threads of the curse unravel, dissolving before my eyes.

But still Bene does not awaken.

Panic seizes my heart as an unyielding heat suddenly laps against my skin, seeking to scald me. To scorch me. To burn me alive. I look up just as Malice’s flame unfurls, exploding straight toward me through the window.

Straight toward us all.

“Bene!” I scream, my voice lost beneath the thunder of Malice’s roar.

I shrink back and curl around the pixies, seeking to shield them with my body as I desperately call Air to my command, trying to form a wall between us and the flame. I clench my eyes and brace for the worst. Bene will be safe. Dragons cannot burn.

But fae? I imagine we are terribly flammable.

Threads of Fire race past, the heat nearly unbearable through my wall of Air. But it doesn’t touch me. It doesn’t set me aflame.

A shadow passes across my eyelids even as the flames continue to fill the tower. But this shadow does not come with ill intent. It merely brings a blissful cold and a warm brush of strong hands against my cheeks.

Trembling, barely daring to hope, I blink my eyes open and stare up into a gloriously sapphire gaze—a gaze that burns as bright and hot with righteous anger as the crown blazing on his brow.

The gaze of my king.

My love.

Bene.