Page 16

Fire erupted at my feet, wild and ravenous, snapping at the air like it had been starved for years. The heat climbed up my throat. Every instinct screamed to turn back. But through the blaze, I caught a glimpse of a snow-streaked village scattered with stars. It wasn’t North Colindale.

It was Demetria.

I lifted a hand and braced. The flame hissed against my skin, dragging me closer, like something was trying to pull me into the fire.

Then Rok shoved me, and the portal swallowed me whole. The world tilted sideways. Color bled at the edges. For a heartbeat, I wasn’t in the fire. I was somewhere else.

Then I saw two figures standing before a dragon egg. A woman with a single white strand of hair that curled down her jaw. A dark-haired man towering over her, their silhouettes sharp against the moon’s glow .

They were arguing.

“I claim the egg,” the woman hissed.

“You’re in Demetria, Vera. The egg is mine.”

“Don’t call me Vera,” she snapped. “Perhaps we’ll let the dragon choose who is worthy when it hatches.”

“Fine,” the man growled. “But who’s going to care for the damn thing in the meantime?”

“Me,” she bit out. “I have motherly instincts.”

The man looked like he was debating whether to perch on the egg himself, like some territorial chicken.

Vera.

I only had seconds to memorize the sharp angle of her jaw and the emerald blaze in her eyes. The man beside her looked almost like Archer, with short dark curls and shadows coiling near his boots.

And the woman… she could’ve been my grandmother. This wasn’t just a memory. It was her , Veravine Almera.

The portal spat me out a moment later, boots slamming into frost-slick ground. Snow clung to my scorched sleeves. The cold hit fast and unforgiving, slicing through my clothes and stealing the breath from my lungs.

Before I could find my footing, something hard slammed into my side. “Kian?” I gasped.

He cursed violently, plunging his blistered hands into the snow. “Shit! How the hell did my brothers survive you and that damn flame? I think I’m going into shock.”

“You don’t put burns in snow, you idiot,” I snapped, grabbing his arm and yanking him upright. “Cold water only. It’s basic first-aid.”

“Well, sorry I’ve never been lit on fire and dumped into a frozen hellscape before,” he hissed. “This is a first for me, alright? ”

I punched him weakly in the shoulder. He dramatically staggered back two steps, clutching his arm like I’d just run him through.

“Kian,” I said through chattering teeth, “you could’ve been killed. Why would you follow me?”

His hazel eyes burned through the falling snow as he shook the ice from his dark, cropped hair. “Because Archer told me to,” he said, voice rough. “He told me to protect you, you stubborn idiot.”

Steam rose from Kian’s palms where they pressed into the snow. “And despite what you think,” he muttered, voice ragged, “the snow feels better than your damn lectures on first aid.”

I turned away, heart pounding hard enough to drown out the cold. “I know he’s your brother, but you don’t always have to listen to him.”

“You forget the part where I carry shadows now,” Kian said flatly. “He’s not just my brother. He’s my ruler.”

“I’m angry at Archer,” I said softly. But it didn’t matter. Because part of me still reached for him anyway.

Kian exhaled slowly, then winced. “That looks painful,” he muttered. “The mark on your spine.”

“My mark?”

“Severyn!” Myla’s voice rang out over the snow. “Thank Gods ash leaves a trail, or I’d never have found you in this frozen valley.”

I straightened, keeping my back away from her. “Who else is coming?”

“Antonia, eventually. Fraser should be here any minute to help with the snow beasts.” Her gaze swept the barren landscape, wide with awe. “How far are we from your home?”

I hesitated. “About an hour.” Truthfully, I wasn’t sure. Father never let me wander this deep into the forest, but I wasn’t about to admit that .

Her eyes dropped to my scorched sleeves. “Sev... your clothes, are you okay?”

Before I could answer, Kian stepped forward. He slid his jacket off and draped it over my shoulders without a word.

“My shadow quell makes this weather bearable,” he said quietly. “You need it more than I do.”

“Kian—” I faltered. He’d seen the mark. He knew.

“Take it,” he said. “No need to explain right now.”

A dark ring flickered beyond the trees, spitting Antonia onto her knees. She shivered violently, brushing snow from her cheek. Behind her, Cully stumbled out, clutching his parchment and quill like weapons.

“The journalist insisted on coming,” Antonia groaned. “I told him I’d throw him into the void if I lost focus. He insisted. Lucky for him, shadow travel is one of the safer portals.”

I leaned toward Kian, voice low. “I need to hide this. I don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can,” he muttered, then cleared his throat. “I’ll help. But why are you still letting them torture you?” He shook his head. “That part I don’t get.”

Antonia’s gaze snapped to us, narrowing when she saw Kian’s jacket on my shoulders. “Two Lynches weren’t enough, Sev? Had to go for the younger brother, too?”

“Gods, she’s exhausting,” Kian muttered. “Street rats in Ravensla have deeper voices. And she won’t shut up in my head.”

Antonia barked a laugh. “Oh, don’t lie. You love it, Kian.”

“You made it painfully obvious it was you I was bonded with,” he shot back. “Now kindly shut it.”

I nearly laughed at the thought of Kian and Antonia being bonded through their minds. At least now I knew it wasn’t her voice inside my head.

Antonia turned to me, her grin sharp as glass. “Just a heads-up, Kian, Severyn was with Damien when he died. I’d watch your back. She’s got a gift for leaving men in pieces. Next thing you know, she’ll be on her knees for your father.”

Kian stiffened. “Leave my brother out of this.”

I tugged his jacket tighter. “Come on,” I said. “The North isn’t kind this time of year.”

We kept moving, our boots crunching over the brittle ground with every step.

Overhead, streaks of blue threaded through the darkening clouds, swallowing the last traces of light.

The sun was nearly gone, dipping below the horizon.

Beneath us, metal rail tracks groaned underfoot, the sound echoing into the empty wilds.

Myla shaded her eyes, scanning the jagged rocks ahead. “Fraser should be here by now,” she muttered. “First mission without backup. Fantastic.”

Cully hugged his parchment for warmth, teeth chattering. He hadn’t been home more than a few days in three years, but it was long enough for the North’s brutal cold to feel foreign again.

Even Antonia’s usual snark faded as she stared out across the endless stretch of snow and stone. “He’ll find us,” she said, pushing forward. “I just want warmth.”

We pressed on, heads bowed against the biting wind.

“That mountain,” Cully said after a beat, voice shaky, “that’s Skia. Tallest peak in all of Verdonia. Some say a snow dragon still lives up there.”

The mountain peak flashed into view, lit for a heartbeat before the clouds swallowed it whole again.

Myla said, “Skia? Isn’t that your dragon’s name, Sev?”

I opened my mouth, mentally flipping through a dozen half-baked lies. But Antonia swooped in, sharp as ever. “His name’s Naraic. Gods, you’re all idiots.”

Cully froze mid-step. “Naraic? The Gemini dragon?”

Of course he knew that. Why wouldn’t he ?

The weight of every secret I hadn’t meant to spill pressed in. Maybe it was time to give them something. Just a piece.

“Yes,” I said, and tried to keep my voice steady. “His name is Naraic.”

Cully didn’t bother to journal any of this. He just hugged himself tighter, stuffing his hands under his arms. “Feels like I don’t even know you anymore,” he muttered. “You’re a dragon rider? Isn’t he dead?”

“He wasn’t dead.” I forced a hollow laugh. “What about you, Cully? Besides flirting with Myla, what have you been up to?”

Antonia snorted. “That’s all he’s been doing. Maybe he missed home so much he wanted to feel snow tickling his balls.”

I didn’t rise to her comment. Feeding the fire would only make it worse.

We reached a crumbling boulder, its edges slick with ice, broken branches tangled at the base. One by one, we climbed, boots slipping, hands raw against the frozen stone.

Cully huffed behind me. “When the hell did you get so good at climbing?”

Myla chuckled. “Part of Winter initiation involved scaling an ice wall. Sev did it four times. Once with a broken wrist.”

“You—what?” Cully gaped, scrambling over the ledge behind me.

“Well, I failed,” I said, brushing frost from my sleeve. “In case you’re wondering why I never became Father’s heir. Flame doesn’t exactly pair well with an ice throne. I’d appreciate if you didn’t journal that part.”

Antonia’s hiss drifted up from below. “Gods, you’re dramatic. It’s his job to journal, Blanche. Or are you so self-obsessed you’d risk getting him blacklisted from the Serpent Press over a single footnote?”

“It’s not like that,” I snapped.

Myla shouted. “Stop! ”

Then the trees went still. Not a breath of wind, not a whisper of sound. Then came the shriek. Distorted and inhuman. Echoing through the snow-laced trees.

Antonia’s shadow surged to life. “That sounded like a beast,” she said.

The stench hit first. It was sour and metallic, like flesh left to rot beneath frost. Then the beast appeared.

Its limbs were unnaturally long, skin pallid and thin over bone.

Gray fur clung in patches, matted with old blood.

Its antlers weren’t regal, but jagged like twisted roots, splintering from a narrow, skull-like head.

It hunched over a carcass, black claws raking through the mess.

Blood slicked the snow beneath it, steaming in the cold.

Its jaw worked soundlessly, long after the meat was gone.

Then it looked up. Milky, lidless eyes starred at us, hackles raised.