Page 32

Chapter

Thirty-Two

The wind beneath Sapphire’s wings carries the scent of renewal as we approach Courtsview.

From my perch on the dragon’s back, I can see the fae settlement’s crystalline spires catching the afternoon light, their faceted surfaces casting rainbow fragments across the surrounding meadows.

After weeks of tending to Einar’s funeral rites and helping Harek care for the dragons in their grief, the prospect of witnessing Courtsview’s magical healing feels like the first ray of hope since my father’s sacrifice.

Vash flies alongside us, his midnight scales rippling as Harek guides him in a gentle spiral toward the landing meadow outside the town’s shimmering walls.

The dragons have barely eaten since my father’s death, and I hope seeing the fae’s restoration magic might kindle something in the grieving creatures.

It’s a long shot, given Mirendel’s renewal didn’t do anything for them, but I’m holding out hope.

As we descend, both dragons suddenly stiffen, their flight patterns shifting from graceful glides to sharp, agitated banks. Sapphire’s massive head swings left and right, nostrils flaring. A low rumble builds in her chest—not the contented purr they make when soaring, but something darker.

“Something’s wrong,” Harek calls across the wind, his voice full of concern.

I feel it too. A wrongness in the air that makes my own instincts prickle and my wolf side pace restlessly beneath my skin. The meadow below looks peaceful enough, but the dragons’ unease is unmistakable.

We land with heavy thuds, the dragons’ claws digging furrows in the soft earth. The moment my boots touch ground, figures emerge from the tree line like ghosts materializing from shadow. Too many, and they’re armed.

At their head walk two men who make my heart clench with betrayal, though I shouldn’t be surprised.

Leif moves with the confident stride he’s had since he learned to walk.

His hand rests on his sword hilt, and his eyes hold none of their old warmth.

Beside him, Gunnar’s weathered face is set in grim determination, his pale eyes cold as midwinter ice.

Behind them come at least thirty fighters—a mix of humans and fae, weapons drawn, faces twisted with fear and hatred.

I scan the perimeter for any of my other siblings. None are in the group. I send up a silent prayer that they’re safely tucked in Skoro’s walls, far from this face off.

“Stand down, corruption,” Gunnar’s voice carries across the meadow with the authority of a man accustomed to being obeyed. “Your taint ends here.”

My wolf snarls beneath my skin while my hunter mind catalogs threats and escape routes. I crouch as Harek dismounts Vash with fluid grace. The dragons flank us, massive forms radiating barely contained fury.

“Leif,” I call to my brother, my voice steady despite the chaos in my chest. “Why do this?”

My brother’s jaw works as if chewing bitter words. “You know what this is! You’ve brought darkness to every place you’ve touched. Mother’s death, the fae attacks, and the corruption spreading through the northern settlements. It all traces back to you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Enough!” Gunnar’s bellow cuts through my protest. “We’ve heard the reports, seen the evidence. You consort with beasts, practice magics, and now you bring dragons to threaten peaceful settlements. The corruption in your blood has finally consumed you.”

I feel the familiar split trying to tear me apart—hunter logic warring with wolf instinct, both sides of my nature pulling in different directions when I face danger.

The hunter wants to analyze, plan, find a diplomatic solution before needing to kill.

The wolf wants to bare fangs and fight. Now. Regardless of family ties.

But then I see the absolute certainty in Gunnar’s eyes, the way his grip tightens on his weapon. This isn’t fear speaking, but cold calculation. He means to kill me, and he feels no remorse about it.

He couldn’t do it when I thought I was only human, and I’m certainly not going to let him now.

“Stand aside, corruption,” one of the fae calls out, his voice ringing with otherworldly authority. “Submit to judgment, and perhaps your companions will be spared.”

Behind me, Vash’s rumble deepens to a roar that shakes leaves from nearby trees. Sapphire answers with her own cry, a sound like crystal shattering. The dragons don’t retreat. They’ve lost one member of their family already and won’t lose another.

“Eira!” Harek’s voice is tight with controlled urgency. “Movement on the walls.”

I glance toward Courtsview’s crystal barriers, where many are gathered along the ramparts.

For a heart-stopping moment, I think they’re more enemies, but then I catch sight of familiar faces.

Lys, the scholars, and rebel soldiers. Fae who have fought beside me before, who know my worth.

They’re armed, and their numbers have grown.

Leif raises his sword, the steel singing as it clears its sheath. “This ends now, sister. You’ve become everything Father feared you might.”

The word “sister” hits like a blade between my ribs. But instead of the familiar hunter and wolf splitting I expect, something new happens.

Fear crystallizes into clarity. The pain transmutes into purpose. And for the first time in my life, instead of choosing between my two natures, I feel them merge.

My hunter mind maps the battlefield with tactical precision while my wolf senses expand to encompass every heartbeat, every shift in stance, every flicker of movement.

I smell fear-sweat on the attackers despite their bravado, hear whispered prayers of the fae loyalists on Courtsview’s walls, feel tremors in the earth as the dragons prepare to strike.

“I am not corrupted,” I say, and my voice carries both the wolf’s primal authority and the hunter’s deadly calm. “I am complete. Not a monster, but something new. And all I want is peace between the sides.”

Gunnar’s eyes narrow. “Kill her!”

The battle erupts with savage intensity.

Leif comes at me first, his sword work polished and precise.

My hunter mind reads his patterns, anticipates his strikes, while my wolf reflexes move my body in fluid dodges that shouldn’t be possible.

I draw my own blade and meet his attack, steel ringing against steel in a deadly dance.

Around us, chaos blooms with equal intensity.

Harek moves like a liquid shadow, his arrows finding gaps in armor with surgical precision.

The dragons unleash their fury—Vash’s flames turn three attackers to ash while Sapphire’s claws rake deep furrows across the meadow as she scatters a group of fae warriors coming from the trees.

But there are too many enemies, and even more continue emerging from the forest. I find myself pressed back, fighting both Leif and two fae warriors simultaneously. In the past, this would have been where I fell, where the split between my natures left me vulnerable.

Instead, I flow. My wolf nose catches the scent of an attacker moving behind me even as my hunter eyes track Leif’s blade work.

I spin, blade deflecting my brother’s strike while my off hand catches the fae warrior’s wrist, my grip augmented by wolf strength.

A twist, a snap, and the fae’s weapon goes flying.

I smell the second fae’s fear as he hesitates, hear his rapid heartbeat even over the clash of steel. My hunter mind calculates angles while my wolf instincts read his body language, and I know exactly where he’ll strike before he even flinches.

The integration is intoxicating. Every sense heightened, every movement perfectly timed, predator and tactician united in deadly harmony.

From Courtsview’s walls come the sound of gates opening. Fae loyalists pour out—dozens of warriors whose allegiance lies with me rather than fear. They hit Gunnar’s forces from the side like a silver tide, evening the odds.

“Treacherous dogs!” Gunnar roars, his own blade finding the throat of a fae warrior. “You side with corruption!”

One of the loyalist fae answers with steel instead of words. His blade meets Gunnar’s in a shower of sparks.

The battle rages across the meadow—dragon fire, fae magic, and human battle techniques turn the peaceful grassland into a scarred battlefield. I find myself at the center of it all, my unified nature allowing me to fight with a fluidity that leaves my opponents stunned.

I sense Harek’s position without looking, coordinate with him in ways that seem telepathic to humans but natural to wolves.

When a fae warrior’s spell sends crystalline spears racing toward me, my wolf reflexes throw me aside while my hunter mind calculates the trajectory of my return strike.

My blade finds the spell caster’s heart before he can conjure another attack.

Leif presses his assault, his technique flawless but increasingly desperate. “You’re not my sister anymore,” he pants between strikes. “You’re a thing to be destroyed.”

“I’m exactly what I’ve always been.” My voice remains steady even as I fight off three opponents at once. “You just chose to see me as a monster.”

My unified senses catch something that makes my blood freeze. The subtle change in air pressure that means someone is preparing a massive spell. I spin to see one of Gunnar’s fae allies raising a staff crowned with swirling darkness, power building around him like a storm.

The spell isn’t aimed at me. It’s aimed at Vash, and he’s engaged with four warriors, his attention focused on the immediate threats. He won’t sense the magical attack until too late.

I move without thought, my unified nature allowing perfect coordination between instinct and intellect. I sprint across the battlefield, vaulting over fallen warriors and sliding under Sapphire’s sweeping tail. The fae mage sees me coming and tries to redirect his spell, but it’s too late.

I reach him just as the dark magic reaches its crescendo. Instead of trying to dodge or deflect the spell, I do something that would have been impossible for either hunter or wolf alone. I grab the staff itself, my hands closing around the wood just below the magical focus.

The spell discharges through me instead of toward Vash, dark energy coursing through my unified nature.

It would kill anyone else, but my wolf side is already touched by shadow, and my hunter training has taught me to endure pain.

The two natures together absorb the attack, transmute it, turn it back on itself.

The mage screams as his own spell rebounds through the staff into his body. Dark fire consumes him from within, leaving nothing but ash and the echo of his death cry.

I stand over the remains, power still crackling between my fingers.

For a moment the entire battlefield goes silent. Friend and foe alike stare at me with expressions ranging from awe to terror.

Gunnar breaks the silence with a wordless roar of rage, abandoning his duel with a fae captain to charge directly at me. His blade sweeps in a perfect killing arc, powered by fury and desperation.

I meet his charge with perfect calm. My unified senses read every detail of his attack—the slight tremor in his wrist that means he’s tiring, the way his left shoulder dips that tells his intended follow-up strike, the bitter scent of his determination.

Then I step inside his guard as smoothly as water flowing around stone. My blade finds the gap in his armor just below his ribs, sliding between metal plates with surgical precision. The steel goes deep, piercing lung and heart.

Gunnar’s eyes widen in shock. Blood bubbles from his lips as he tries to speak, tries to curse me with his final breath. But the words never come. He collapses, his weapon falling from useless fingers.

The sight of their leader’s death breaks the remaining human attackers’ resolve. Some flee back into the forest, others throw down their weapons in surrender.

Only Leif remains, his sword lowered, his face a mask of grief and confusion. “Why did it have to come to this?”

I feel the battle-fury drain from my unified nature, leaving behind an exhaustion that goes deeper than bone. “Because you chose fear over trust, and you listened to those who called love corruption.”

Leif’s sword falls from his hands. He looks at Gunnar’s body, at the scattered remnants of their force, at the dragons who stand protectively over their riders. “What happens now?”

“Now you go home,” I tell him. “You tell them what you saw here. You tell them I am not the enemy, but I will not be victim either.”

My brother nods slowly, tears cutting tracks through the dirt on his face. Without another word, he turns and walks toward the forest, his shoulders bowed with defeat.

Harek appears at my side, his armor bloodied but his eyes bright with fierce pride. “I’ve never seen anyone fight like that.”

“Neither have I.” I look down at my hands, still faintly crackling with residual magic. For the first time in my life, I feel truly whole—hunter and wolf united, both sides of my nature working in perfect harmony. Maybe now I’ll be able to understand the mystery of the Secret Keeper.

Sapphire nudges my shoulder with her massive head, a rumble of approval vibrating through her chest. Vash croons softly, the sound carrying notes of pride and affection.

The dragons had accepted me completely before, but now I understand why.

They have always seen me as I truly am, not as two fractured pieces but as one unified whole.

Lys approaches, his hair stained with blood but his bearing proud. “The walls of Courtsview are open to you, Lady Eira,” he says formally. “Our healing magic is yours to witness, and our allegiance is yours to command.”

“What? No riddle?”

That gets a slight chuckle.

I glance across the scarred meadow where the battle has raged. Bodies lie scattered among the flowers, the price of fear and hatred.

But I have survived, and more than that—I have finally found myself. The wolf and the hunter are no longer at war within me. They are partners, equals, two halves of a greater whole.

And for the first time since my father’s death, I have a glimmer of hope.