Page 1 of Flameborne: Chosen (Emberquell Academy #1)

Epitaph

“My first glimpse of a dragonfury struck something deep within me that hummed like a plucked string on the harp of my soul. The note sang that I was in the presence of the Divine. And in the wake of that glimpse, the rest of the world fell away…”

Brennan Kearney of the Seventh Squadron, Fang Wing, and the first She-Fury

~ brEN (Pronounced Bren) ~

After walking all night, my still-healing body pleading with me to stop, I nearly wept with relief when I finally reached the ancient wood that surrounded the Dragon Keep. I was unnerved by the shadows of gnarled trees dripping with moss but made myself push on.

He’s going to be here. I have to see him.

Minutes later, breathing in jagged puffs from lungs tightened by both fear and pain, I finally found the launch hollow.

The crooked trees opened near the towering Academy buildings to reveal a wide crater on the ground carpeted in grass.

In the pre-dawn dark, it seemed so humble.

Without the damp fog and the shadowy buildings rising behind it, I might have dismissed it as a naturally steep depression in the landscape.

But I shivered at the slashes in the dirt, the clods of grass ripped from the earth, because I knew they’d been torn by dragon talons.

This was the place where the dragonfuries would gather with their riders—the Furyknights—at sunrise. And one of those men belonged to me.

I hovered within the trees, uncertain, searching for a position from which I could see the ground below so I’d know when they arrived, but rest safely until then .

But as I scanned the land, the mists on the other side of the hollow curled and tumbled away from a disturbance, billowing suddenly on a shore of sea-green scales, until they parted to reveal a stunning dragonfury.

The sight stole my breath.

Tall and proud, it slid into the clearing, head high and hot blasts of breath and smoke pouring from its nostrils at the tip of its broad snout as it snorted—like a horse, only deeper— and turned its regal head to look around.

I should have been terrified. It was large enough to swallow me whole. But it was so beautiful, I couldn’t breathe.

Sinking even deeper between the trees, I couldn’t bring myself to turn away, to run. Because nothing existed in that moment except this magnificent creature.

Only moments before that hollow earth had been mere space, surrounded by forest, and all of it silent in the cold, dark hour before dawn.

Now, the knotted trees stood guard over a beauty and power so rich, the air shimmered just like its marvelous scales that, despite the emerald hue, pulsed and flickered with the same promise of heat that lingered in the dying coals of a fire.

The earth fell away. I no longer saw the mist curling between the ancient trees. The pale dawn no longer promised a new day because it served no purpose other than to caress that iridescent skin, glowing with power and strength.

Despite its massive size, the dragonfury slipped silently into the clearing, raised its wings and stretched them. A gust of wind that boomed when those massive wings clapped the air.

I was awed.

Like any citizen, I’d seen the dragonfuries my whole life—but usually soaring so high they could be mistaken for large birds. I’d never seen one up close before.

I watched, transfixed, as it rippled to the edge of the launch hollow. I held my breath, fearing that it might take off and then my moment with it would end.

But instead, it shook its head like a dog—a startlingly mundane comparison—and retracted its wings to tuck back against its sides.

As I leaned closer, my breath clouding among the mists, the air vibrated with a strange, deep rumble that rose from the bowels of the earth and trembled in my bones. Then those fathomless, amber eyes turned and locked on me like jewels set in the precious metal of its green-blue scales.

For one, blessed, shining moment, the world and all its pains disappeared.

I forgot the events of a few weeks ago, the wracking pain of my body and the specter of shame that had shadowed my father’s eyes ever since.

I forgot that Ruin was leaving and likely wouldn’t return for months, perhaps even years .

I even forgot the creeping dread that had kept my limbs heavy as I walked all night to be here.

For one breathless beat there was nothing in the world but the savage grace of a creature so ancient, it must know the face of God.

Hello, Little Flame.

I didn’t hear the voice but sensed the greeting as this fantastic beast stared at me. Fixed in that gaze, I was speechless. Until it snorted again and two more gusts of steam and smoke plumed from its nostrils, hissing into the pre-dawn air.

Swallowing a surprised squeak, I dropped to a crouch below the level of the underbrush to break the spell the fury held on me and remind myself I was here for a purpose. But I squirmed, unable to shake the distinct impression it laughed at my fright.

“No more complaints,” a male voice muttered, the words muffled somewhat by the mists that still draped the trees like wedding lace, the edges beginning to glow now as the sun threatened to rise. “Even you can’t fly on a breakfast of a whole bull.”

That deep rumble sounded again, but this time overlayed with a soft chug. A huff.

A dragon’s laughter?

Taking deep, silent breaths to steady myself, I slowly nudged a branch of the sucklebrush back, so I could peer past it.

Furyknight.

The man who had appeared to join the dragon, was dwarfed standing at its shoulder.

He was clothed in dragonhide cut to such perfection it molded to his skin. Ruin had told me, the day he appeared similarly attired, that the leather was the legendary final gift of the ancient dragonfuries to their human warriors.

Dragonhide was thin and felt soft to the touch.

Yet it would keep a body warm in the coldest chill of winter—even in the glacial wind of flight high above the clouds.

It was flexible enough not to impede a warrior’s movement, while nearly impenetrable, deflecting all except the sharpest metal-tipped arrows, and providing critical protection from fire as well.

Diamond-tipped tools were used to cut it.

The hood that fell from the nape of the man’s neck was used to keep ears from becoming frostbitten in flight, and for deflecting dragonflame in battle.

There were ties threaded through it so it could be gathered around the Furyknight’s face.

I knew, because I’d used them once to pull Ruin to me and—

The sight of the beautiful man in those leathers conjured a memory that made my heart sing—and crushed it in the same breath.

Ruin, two years earlier, standing proudly in the golden warmth of the late evening sun that pierced the slats and poured through the upper windows of the barn .

Feet shoulder-width apart and encased in thick, black boots. Hands loose at his sides, but open—poised for action. Chest swelling with pride. Chin high and blue eyes bright, gleaming with smug satisfaction and ambitious thrill. His sandy hair tousled in the way only the wind could achieve.

He’d been Chosen . His dragon had named him Talon .

I was so awed by the sight of him in those legendary leathers that at first, I was afraid to approach. He had never looked so handsome. Or so utterly out of reach.

When I hesitated, his smile broadened from smug, to amused.

“Come here! Touch it, Bren! Feel how soft it is—yet I gamble you couldn’t pierce it, even with the hay fork.” He beckoned me forward, and after a painful swallow, I inched forward like a child, reaching out with a trembling hand.

When my fingers brushed that strange, slick hide, something crackled under my palm. I could feel the power of the creature from whom it had been taken. And yet, I wanted to weep, suddenly certain those same creatures would take my love from me—

I blinked, pushing the memory away.

The dragonfury’s eyes stayed on mine for long seconds as it stepped over the edge of the bowl in the earth and began down the slope to its middle, the man trotting at its side and mumbling further warnings not to complain.

They were the first to arrive, but they would not be the last. Soon, a legion of dragons and their Furyknights would gather here to be blessed, then take off into the skies. They wouldn’t return for months. Perhaps years.

One of those men was named Ruin.

He named his fury Carnage, which was fitting. Because the arrival of Carnage in Ruin’s life had been the harbinger of destruction in mine.

My heart pounded as the dragon and his knight circled the bottom of that depression in the earth. The fact that the man hadn’t looked at me meant the dragon knew I was here, but he hadn’t told his knight, despite the fact that I knew they could speak to each other in their minds.

Thank you, I thought, praying the fury could hear me. Thank you. God bless you on your journey. And please… keep Ruin safe.

If he heard me, he didn’t answer. But he shook his head in that oddly canine way again.

Tearing my eyes from him, I made myself walk deeper into the wood, found a hollow between tree roots, and sank to the dirt, leaning back on the rugged tree with a sigh.

I would rest here and wait for the legion to arrive. Then I’d find Ruin and tell him I forgave him. Kiss him. Whisper my love and prayer that he’d return .

My eyes grew heavier and heavier as I turned it all over in my mind—how I would tell him everything had been a mistake. And reassure him that when he returned, he’d be welcomed by me, and into my home…

I woke, blinking against bright, morning sun piercing the forest canopy overhead, to the sound of a masculine whisper and a soft giggle.

With a gasp, I lurched to my feet, stomach plummeting to my toes because I was certain I’d already missed the ceremony—only to freeze at the sight that first made my heart sing, then clawed through my ribs to expose it to the cold.

Ruin.