Page 23

On the Monster’s Scale-Covered Back

“ I szaelda!”

I blink, disoriented. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. The air is stifling, far too hot, and the floor beneath me is sticky with blood. I’ve been lying in it.

Keelan is here. His face is twisted with anguish, his eyes wide and round like aresberries.

He stares at me, his eyes glistening like water on slick ice, shadowed by heavy furrowed brows.

His head turns, his eyes moving from Father to Mother to Aeralon, then back to me.

He seems paralyzed, unsure of what to say or do.

“Go!” I scream, my voice twisted into a knot of pain, my nails clawed into Aeralon’s cold, leathered torso. Buried so deep I can’t let go, and Keelan can’t pull me away.

“I’ve been through the same thing. Let me help you.”

“I don’t want to.”

He steps closer, reaching out. “You?—”

“Go!”

“You have to leave! The tree is collapsing, and?—”

“Go!” I press my face into Aeralon’s neck, longing for the warmth that’s no longer there, for the steady pulse that’s forever gone. His skin is cold and lifeless. It no longer smells like him.

“You’re going to be crushed!” Keelan shouts.

“Keelan, I can’t leave them.” I sit up, pulling Aeralon closer and pressing his face against my chest. He’s so heavy. “He would never leave me, would he?”

“He was like a brother to me, too. But we must go. Staying here, dying when the tree falls, what good does that do? None!” Keelan’s arms sweep wildly as he gestures around us.

“For Saxx, I’m not going to die, am I?”

“Yes, you?—”

“I need to say goodbye properly.” I nod to myself, rocking gently as I stroke my brother’s head. His hair is soft, light blond and delicate like silk slipping through my fingers.

“Iszaelda, you have to?—”

“No!”

“Listen to me!”

“No.” My voice lowers, hoarse and unrecognizable. It doesn’t even sound like mine.

“We need to… leave,” Keelan pleads.

I look at him, really look this time. His clothes are torn and filthy, hanging in tatters off his body. One side of his hair is burned away, his face smeared with ash, black as soot. Why is he alive and not my family?

Iszaelda! You can’t think like that!

“Come with me, siliari,” he says, extending a hand coated in blood and dirt.

I rise so quickly that I don’t give myself time to regret it, pressing one hand against the wall to steady myself. The dizziness is immediate, my head pounding, the ache sharp and relentless, like knives driving into my temples.

“How are you feeling? Should I carry you?”

“I’m not three sun cycles old. Move!” I shove him aside and push past. Slinging Father’s bloodstained satchel over my shoulder, I rush through the house.

I pack the bag with Naeva’s medicines, coins, dried food, a water pouch, the ring she gave me on my fifteenth birthday, and the pine elk Father carved for me as a child. Finally, I slip Mother’s necklace around my neck, fastening it with a soft click.

“Hurry, we need to go!” Keelan glances toward the stairs, his hand darting to grab my arm.

I pull away, rushing to Father’s dresser. Yanking open the drawer, I secure the sword belt around my waist, the one holding Voenriel. Slamming the drawer shut, I scan the room. Is there anything else I might need?

“Let’s go!”

Ignoring him, I kneel beside Father, my hands resting on his bare chest. His skin is cold, almost icy, with a faint blue hue spreading across it.

“Tala cúnie, natili omera atí isesa a.”

I whisper the same words to Mother and Aeralon, kissing each of their foreheads. Then I press two fingers to my lips, to theirs, and finally toward the sky, to the sun. Even though it’s concealed behind the roof, the treetops, the mist, and the heavy clouds above.

“Iszaelda.”

This time, I let Keelan pull me along. His touch feels insignificant compared to everything else.

We burst out of the house, racing across the backyard and scrambling down the tree’s bark.

Everything is charred and lifeless. The bark crumbles under my fingers, brittle and blackened.

The snow is gone, melted away, and the mushrooms are split and scorched.

It’s a world of ash. Nothing remains as it was.

Bits of charcoal float around us as if the very soul of Sarador has burned to cinders.

I cough, my lungs hurting with each breath as I blink dust from my eyes. Keelan climbs below me, glancing back as he moves. “The others have already fled north, toward the Baraatien border. If we try, we might find a way across.”

“The defense?”

“Most of them have also fled.”

I rip bark from the tree, my frustration boiling over. “You mean you ran instead of defending us?”

Keelan stops abruptly. “There was no chance we could’ve won. Do you have any idea how many of them are here? How many warriors Akares sent?”

“You could’ve saved them!” My glare burns into him, my eyes charged, like they’re holding back a storm of lightning, ready to break free.

“You don’t understand what?—”

“You could’ve warned them!” The words falter, half of them swallowed by the air, lost forever. My voice is too raw, too strained to hold their weight.

Keelan tightens his jaw, the muscles tensing. His cheekbones are sharp and pronounced. “Not everything’s as simple as day or night, Iszaelda! We’re not villains just because we didn’t fight back. Don’t you understand? It was impossible.”

Impossible? Is he serious?

“And the drums,” he continues, “we couldn’t sound them. They were among the first things to burn, almost as if they knew exactly where to find them.”

He starts climbing again, and I follow close behind. We rush down the exposed, black bark, the trunk steaming under our hands. Far below, the fire roars, surrounding the Star Tree. It won’t be long before it falls.

“It wasn’t Talendir who decided to flee, was it?” I hiss. Without the snow, climbing is more manageable, and we move fast. My fingers turn black with soot, and ash drifts into my eyes.

“He wasn’t there,” Keelan replies, his voice flat, emotionless. How can he be so indifferent?

“And why not?”

Breathe. Breathe. Don’t snap. Try to stay in control.

He’s lost his family too, and everyone reacts differently. Try. It’s hard.

“We think he’s dead.”

“And Daeroal too.”

“Yes.”

“Then who in the fires gave the order?” We keep descending, the trunk seeming endless. The crackle of distant flames and faint screams reach us. It’s not over yet. Elves are still being hunted, still dying.

Keelan looks up at me, his eyes empty, reluctant to speak.

“Who gave the order, Keelan?”

“Garalas.”

“Garalas! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“No, he?—”

“Tell me you’re joking!”

“I’m not.” His gaze drops to his hands as he shifts his grip, continuing to climb down.

“He doesn’t have that authority, does he?”

“He does now. He’s taken on leadership… for now.”

“Then let’s hope Talendir isn’t as fiery dead as you think.” My blood burns, anger bubbling corrosively in my veins. “Have they already left?”

“Who?”

I let out a sharp, frustrated breath. “Who do you think, Keelan? The Sunspirits?”

“Honestly, you don’t always have to be so sarcastic.” His hair, filthy and matted, flutters in the heat, more black than green.

“My family is dead. Try showing some understanding!”

“So is mine, and I’m not lashing out at everyone for it?—”

“Congratulations!” I grab a handful of ash and scatter it over him.

He spits, trying to clear the dirt from his mouth. “No, not all of them have left. Many, yes, but not everyone. We must stay as quiet as possible, you know. I think their Scourge is still here.”

“He’s still here?” I freeze, gripping the bark so tightly it digs into my fingers. “Akares is still here?”

Keelan stops, too. We’re closer to the fire now, but it’s still far below us. “I think so, but?—”

“Where?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“ Where? ” I scream.

He jumps, startled. “The monster hasn’t moved much. It’s located near the Hollow Tree, close to the center. The Scourge is still on its back, and?—”

Before he can finish, I grab a nearby vine and swing away from the trunk, leaving it behind.

“Iszaelda, come back! You have no chance against him! You will never stand a chance!”

I swing between the vines. Right, left, slipping, then catching hold again. I switch vines, then grab another, each movement pulling me closer. My hands grip tightly, steady, unshaken. My focus is clear and fixed on a single goal.

Vile, loathsome Akares Dorne.

You slaughtered my family. And now you aim to destroy my kind, just as you wiped out the sea elves and wind elves. All for your own kind, to gain more power and strength.

It takes only a moment before I see him, a shadow in the thinning mist. The fog has lifted since I left the Hollow Tree, but not enough. It needs to clear more. If I’m going to do this, I need clarity. I need strength. I can’t afford to be weighed down by the haze.

Akares.

This is the first time I’ve seen him, the elf I’ve despised for so long. I freeze, letting the image sear into my mind, carving the moment deep into my memory.

Fire engulfs the monster, roaring furiously toward the skies.

It crackles, glows, and spits embers into the air.

The beast dominates all of Gann Gavannoa, its underside raven-black and its top smoldering in a deep bloodstone red.

Its form is lizard-like, with rough, scaled skin.

Two massive, bat-like wings lie folded against its body, their tips ending in wicked claws, while a spiked tail lashes the ground behind it.

The monster’s head is strangely elegant, crowned by two sleek horns that curve in graceful semicircles over its neck.

Its towering body stretches over twenty elf-lengths high from claw to withers, and its jagged teeth jut from its maw like the fangs of a saltwater crocodile, only larger and more menacing.

Its jaws could crush a house in a single bite, and its thrashing tail carves ruin into the earth, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.

I don’t know what it is. There are no monsters like this here. Everyone knows that there are legendary creatures in other lands, such as those found in Baraatien, Vasvinennian, and Kaspien. Enormous, dangerous, venomous beasts we can barely imagine. But this isn’t a “large animal.”

This is a monster.

The star elf stands at the top, shielded behind a wall of flames. The one I’ve been waiting so long to see.

The first thing I notice is the enormous horns curling above his head, jet-black and curved like those of a full-grown ram. The next is his skin, dark as polished onyx. And then his hair, white as alabaster, so intensely bright it almost hurts to look at, as if it glows with its own light.

It appears to reach his hips, although it’s hard to tell with the way it flutters in the air.

I shift my gaze to his eyes, those slanted, frosty white eyes.

They’re piercing, feline, and filled with challenge.

His face is long and angular, with thin, firm lips.

Even his eyelashes and brows are white, matching the two jagged scars that slice diagonally across his face, from his forehead, through his right eye, down to his cheekbone, and ending past his ear.

The star elf stands with effortless poise atop the monster’s back, his legs planted wide, two short swords gleaming in his hands, and a blood-red gem glinting on one finger. He holds nothing for balance yet remains steady as the beast shifts and unleashes torrents of fire.

His clothes are dark and ornate, shimmering like silk or satin, their fine detailing speaking of immeasurable wealth. The fitted garment flows down to his feet, hugging his form. A finely wrought glass crown sits atop his head, placed with utmost precision between his horns.

Even the swords he wields are masterpieces, their intricate designs betraying their immense value.

I move, shaking off the daze that held me, jolted awake by the sight before me.

Blood pounds in my temples as I swing forward, vengeance burning through my veins, surging into every fiber of my body, down to the tips of my fingers.

He’s the one who killed my family. The one who took my sister.

Perhaps it wasn’t his hand, but his tongue.

His command. And now I’m close, so close to what I’ve dreamed of for so long.

To face Akares.

I push off, planting my feet against a tree trunk and sprinting along its side, gripping the vine tightly. I run, leap, and let go.

I fall through air, fire, and smoke.

And land on the monster’s scale-covered back.