Page 73

Into the Darkness

T he arrows drop to the ground just before striking Akares.

And the dragon halts. A wave of gratitude floods me.

He’s alive. The arrows missed. I don’t know what I would’ve done if they hadn’t. Even if Akares isn’t hurt, I’ve bought us a moment.

Maybe enough for the elves to escape.

“I’m impressed,” he says softly. “You’re not as soft as I thought. I always sensed there was something cold in you. Something dark.”

“You don’t know a fiery?—”

“That you could kill someone you love without so much as blinking those lovely lashes?”

“I’ve never loved you. I despise you.”

“Of course you do. I expected nothing less. Your anger is, I must say… rather charming.”

“You want charming?” I notch another arrow to the string.

“You won’t kill me with those pitiful arrows.”

My hand closes around Voenriel’s hilt.

“Nor with that tired old sword. I do apologize.”

“You can take your apology and shove it up?—”

“Actually, no, I’m not sorry. It was a pleasure getting to know you, Iszaelda, but?—”

“About as pleasant as walking barefoot through knife moss.”

“This is where we part ways. I’m afraid our relationship ends here with your little assassination attempt.”

“Our relationship ended when your eyes turned that revolting shade of white and your hair?—”

“You don’t like my eyes?”

“I hate them.”

“Haven’t you insulted me enough, my dear?”

“I never want to see you again!”

“You know… I think I’ll go ahead and grant your exceptionally heartfelt wish. You can thank me later if you’re still alive.”

And the dragon lets loose again, fiercer than ever. The fire rushes toward me, striking with cold, heat, flame, and hail. It pours like sideways rain. It floods my body with energy. Fills me with strength.

I lift my head and close my eyes. I clutch the bow in my right hand. Tight, tight, tight. My clothes burn away, crumbling to ash that falls to the ground. My hair lifts, flutters, and tickles down my back.

And the fire. It licks my cheeks. Caresses my thighs. Brushes my shoulders. Wraps around calves, shins, knees, and hips. It burns away everything that isn’t fireproof. The air crackles and sparks around me.

It hisses, bubbles, and seethes as if I’m standing in the lightning flash of a midnight storm.

I open my eyes in the sea of ocean-blue fire. I glance behind me and see that the elves have managed to hide. I look forward and tilt my head.

Meet the dragon’s cold eyes. Look into her cold soul. I open my mind, the new strength flooding through me. My gaze locked with the monster’s.

Then I throw my consciousness at her. Furious. Violent. Unrestrained.

With all my power. With all my energy. With all my strength.

I tear through the thorns standing in my way, the barrier that’s Akares’s mind. He strikes back. Hard. The thorns rip and scrape through my head, trying to tear me apart. But I resist. I must get in. I must break through.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Akares standing still by the dragon’s front claws. His body jerks. His eyes are dead-white, rolling. I clench my fists. The wood of the bow cuts into my hand and then crumbles. Turns to ash.

I! Will! Get! In!

And then it happens. I’m in.

But the dragon is too strong. Too powerful. Her mind starts to take control.

Jzag stretches open my jaws and roars, roars, roars at the sky, sending birds scattering from the treetops miles away. Insects vanish into the soil, and elves of the sun cover their precious little ears.

So fragile. My voice is exquisitely beautiful, as always.

And the two elves beneath me look amusingly small.

The male seems stunned. He’s sitting on the ground, right in front of my claws.

Ah. It’s Mesmigli. My former rider. Dlemhrgendeleg, the death-rider.

At last, it’s lost its grip, and Jzag has triumphed.

And the female elf lies in a sad little pile. Her long, pale hair spread around her. Pathetic.

Ah, elves aren’t worth eating. I need real meat. Fanox meat.

Mmm-mm.

Delicious. I wouldn’t mind the dark meat between my teeth, that crisp pelt. Of course. That’s what Jzag needs. But since Jzag is already here…

Jzag lowers my head toward the star elf and parts my jaws wide so he can see and admire my majestic marble-column teeth.

Look, star elf. Look closely. Do you see how they shine? If you’re not careful, they’ll shine with your blood. You deserve it for how you’ve treated me. And Suva.

Its eyes are wild.

Ah, is it afraid of me?

Of course, it is. Everyone’s afraid of me. It’s worried because it’s lost control. Because it can’t get back in.

Jzag exhales, and cold air hisses from her nostrils, so perfectly shaped that gods must’ve crafted them.

“Mesmigli, Mesmigli. Dlemhrgendeleg. Any last words?”

It gapes at me in confusion but finally manages to stand. It brushes dirt from its clothes, eyes fixed on me.

Oh, sweet little thing, are you worried about looking presentable? Foolish little star elf. Jzag could eat you. In a single spark! Jzag could burn you to pieces! Before you could blink. And you’re dusting off your clothes? So foolish. So?—

No!

I break through and take control of both bodies.

But it’s unlike any link I’ve ever formed.

No visions. No past. No flood of memory to drown in.

Only a single whisper slips through the cracks before the door slams shut—her name, Nyx.

I rise to my feet as the dragon coils above me.

And at the same time, I see myself from above.

The tiny sun elf standing naked on a plateau of ash-gray stone, surrounded by burning tufts of grass.

She looks strong, a warrior. Her skin is dusted with black grit, and her eyes are terrifyingly fierce. Different in color, the yellow nearly glowing. A sword sheath hangs loose at her hip, as natural to her as bone.

I begin to walk in my elven body.

Slow and unbothered, as if interacting with dragons is just part of my daily routine. Akares has drawn both swords.

He stares at me as if I’ve stepped out of another realm, his eyes sweeping over me, flicking back and forth between me and Nyx in disbelief.

“Easy now,” I murmur as I pass him. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack, my dear.”

“How, Iszaelda?” He charges, blades raised. “How did you do this?”

I bolt, my movements fast, fluid. My hand snatches the edge of the dragon’s wing.

I pull myself up, slide down to her back, and land on the thick ridge of her neck, gripping one of her black horns for balance.

Her wings explode into motion, with furious, powerful strokes that tear through the air.

Her jaws snap, sharp teeth gleaming. She lunges at Akares, forcing him back with each strike.

Again. And again. Until he’s retreating toward the cliff’s edge.

Through the dragon’s mouth, my voice rumbles, “Not so cocky now, are you?”

“You can’t steal from me,” Akares growls. His misty-white eyes burn with hate. “That dragon is mine . I’ll come for you, Iszaelda, and when I do, you’ll pay.”

I lunge at him again. This time, my teeth nearly graze him. Then I open my jaws, hiss, and brace to unleash the flame. That gets him moving.

He throws himself over the edge before I can strike.

I feel nothing. No shock. No grief. Because I know he’s not dead.

He wouldn’t leap toward death, not on purpose.

I step forward and lower my long neck over the edge of the cliff.

And there he is, climbing. He slips from view, no doubt finding a ledge to hide behind.

Netharu’el.

Grief surges through me, sharp and fast, only for a few sparks.

But enough time to fill me, to choke me.

Netharu’el was never real. I fell for Akares. I can’t make sense of it.

I can’t accept it.

The last of the fire’s power drains from my body, leaving me weak and unsteady. And that’s all it takes.

Nyx seizes control, and I fall back into the darkness.