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S omething swelled inside Aurora and snapped outward. The monstrosity looming with lethal intent behind Phaedra paused for a split second. It was enough. Phaedra clocked the beast and launched herself into the air with a powerful gust of air. Several of the monstrosities took flight after her. At Aurora’s back, Silvanus pulled out a bow glowing with light, dispatching the flying monstrosities with arrows created by divine magic.

As she descended, Phaedra used another blast to keep herself aloft. Aurora’s heart hammered in her chest as Phaedra dodged the claws and gaping maws of the monstrosities, continually escaping back into the air.

“Hold on!” Silvanus called as the loper surged forward.

Mount and rider raised a battle cry as they plunged into the madness. Leaning forward in the saddle, Silvanus covered Aurora’s body with his, his bow transforming into a spear he angled forward. Its radiance cleaved a path in front of them, dissolving the bubbling mass of monstrosities before they formed and leaving the ground fully purified in their wake.

The paladins’ lopers battled through monstrosities to follow behind, trampling the beasts beneath hooves blessed by the goddess Herself. In the centre of the camp, the remaining paladins and imperial guard fought back-to-back.

Phaedra descended in front of them and Aurora’s heart leapt into her throat. Before Aurora could scream at Silvanus to halt the loper, Phaedra launched back into the air, twirling gracefully over them and landing in the saddle of one of the following steeds.

They circled the camp, cutting through monstrosities as though they were made of water. When the bulk were defeated, Silvanus handed her the reins.

“Take over!”

“What?!” Aurora squeaked as he leapt off the loper with the talent of a trained acrobat.

Aurora gripped the reins and kept her head close to the loper’s neck, lest a stray claw-tipped paw take her head from her shoulders. Though given her steed’s fierceness, she needn’t have worried. The war-trained loper barrelled through the straggling beasts with ferocious ease, even without the holy weapon to help clear the way.

Phaedra urged her loper to race beside Aurora’s, covering the side exposed to the inner ring of monstrosities.

On the edge of the camp, Silvanus stood as a lone warrior, his body glowing with divine power. She watched in awe as he planted his feet, twisted his hips and posed the holy sword as if to cleave the whole of the camp in two. Monstrosities bubbled up near his feet as he stood his ground, kept at bay as his inner radiance seared even her eyes. The lopers made another half-circle before he unleashed the power of the holy sword. An arc of light tore through the remains of the camp, sweeping away the monstrosities as though they’d been sculptures made of sand.

The lopers circled the camp once more, but the monstrosities were gone. The traces of their presence lingered in the cries of the wounded, in the blood soaking the hard-packed sand, in the torn and trampled tents. Only a single imperial guard remained alive, yet only one paladin had been wounded. A grim reminder that only divine magic could defeat the beasts.

Silvanus sheathed his blade, now resembling a regular sword once more, and rushed into the camp, using his divine magic to heal the wounded and consecrate the bodies of the fallen. The battle was over, but this was only the beginning of the calamity to come. A mere taste of horror.

Until now, she’d had a hard time understanding why so much history of the past had been lost, despite the continual presence of the temple of Knowledge. Now she knew why. Every cycle of calamity took its toll in blood, leaving fewer each time who could record that toll in ink.

Aurora had seen the remnants of villages sacked by monstrosities, the broken, burnt-out buildings, the dried blood flaking in the sun, streams of the dead-eyed wounded as they trudged towards the next town or village, the scraps of their former lives slung over their shoulders. She’d seen that, and yet she’d still believed that was the worst the calamity could offer, that the beasts were so easily defeated by those with divine magic and a bit of warrior’s training.

She’d been so ignorant.

How much worse would this have been had it happened in the middle of an army on the march? One made up of mostly imperial soldiers rather than Justice’s paladins? How much worse would it be if they attacked the capital, with its labyrinth of narrow streets and crowded buildings? Even trained warriors stood little chance against the beasts. What hope did the average merchant and labourer have? What hope did the elderly, the infirm, the youngest amongst them?

“We can’t go back to Boreas.”

“What?” Phaedra asked, her face drained of blood.

“We can’t bring this with us back to the capital.”

“We’ll be safe behind the castle walls. Safer than anywhere else.” Phaedra’s brow knitted with concern.

Aurora shook her head. Drakon followed her . Everywhere she stopped would have a target painted on it. Everyone she travelled with would be similarly beset.

“No, I have to get to Gilvus. To the wellspring there.”

Because she’d failed. Again.

How many more deaths would be on her head? How much more blood would stain her hands because of her ineptitude? She wished she could go back in time and shake her younger self. If only she’d been able to put her wounded pride aside and had learned more about the wellsprings, about wild magic, maybe she would have awakened her magic before the cycle of calamity had begun. Those guards would be alive now if not for her ignorance.

“What happened at the wellspring?”

“Nothing. I heard it call, but nothing happened.”

Just like before. Tears stung her eyes.

“This isn’t your fault, Aurora.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Oh no you don’t! No. This isn’t your doing.”

“If I had wild magic—”

“Do you control the celestial bodies? The wills of all the gods, tangible and intangible? Did you create the monstrosities? No. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.” Phaedra’s lips pursed into a thin line, sweat rolling down her brow.

“But the guards—”

“Died protecting me. If anyone is to blame for their deaths, it’s me. I chose to be here, and their duty was to follow. I understood the risks I was taking with their lives and mine when I followed you. That burden is mine alone.” She raised her chin, her brown eyes flinty with determination. It was the look she wore when she assumed the role of imperial princess. Her armour against the pangs of her wounded heart.

Aurora looked away, only to catch the sight of blood pooling beneath Phaedra’s mount.

“Fae, what happened?”

“Nothing. It’s fine. It’s just a light scratch.”

Light scratch, her foot! Silvanus could heal wounds caused by the monstrosities.

“Silvanus!”

“For the love of the Triad,” Phaedra muttered.

Aurora dismounted and hurried to Phaedra’s side, which was most definitely not fine. The whole right side of her was drenched in blood, her clothes torn. Silvanus rushed over and they both helped her down from the saddle. Phaedra swore a blue streak, her face deathly pale by the time she sat on the ground. Aurora peeled the clothes away as best she could, allowing Fae to lean on her, her heart in her throat the whole while. Silvanus dispatched the rest with quick, business-like cuts from a hidden dagger. When he laid his hands atop the gory sight, Phaedra cried out.

“Fuck! Ah, goddesses. A-and here I thought I wasn’t your type.”

“If you can joke, you’re not nearly as wounded as you appear,” Silvanus assured her, his divine magic closing the wounds as if they’d never existed.

“Or maybe I am your type, now that I’m in distress,” Phaedra hissed, eyes closed against the pain.

Whatever tension had kept Phaedra upright collapsed the moment she was fully healed. She slumped into Aurora’s arms, the only evidence of her harrowing experience her tattered clothes and blood-stained skin, now blessedly free of grisly gashes.

Aurora tightened her hold on Phaedra, thanking the merciful Triad for sparing her friend.

“I’m so glad you’re alright.”

Phaedra placed a hand over Aurora’s and squeezed back.

“I watched you get injured. What were you protecting that was more important than your life, Your Highness?” Silvanus asked.

“None of your concern.” Phaedra’s whisper held more venom than Aurora thought possible.

“Well, it’s my concern, and I want to know,” Aurora retorted, fear and anger making her tremble. Phaedra was often reckless, but how could she risk herself like this? Against monstrosities, no less.

Phaedra dug into her tattered cloak’s pocket and produced a small box.

“It was supposed to be your awakening gift. But this temple rat ruined the surprise.”

Aurora snatched it from Phaedra, the urge to throw it as far as she could coiling through her.

“How dare you?” Aurora choked on a sob, tightening her hold on Phaedra with one arm. “How could you think some trinket is worth your life?”

“My blood, sweat and tears went into this, so you’d better open it,” Phaedra huffed.

Tears fell in earnest then as she one-handedly peeled off the crimson-soaked wrapping cloth. Aurora recognised the pattern. It was one of Phaedra’s favourite silk scarves. The floral print was barely recognizable now.

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” Aurora sniffled as she tried and failed to undo a knot, wet and sticky and swollen from blood.

Silvanus reached over and cut through the silk without a word.

Beneath the wrapping, a familiar box greeted her. They were the ones used at the dig site to hold artefacts. Aurora remembered the numbers on the side—the very same ones she’d used to catalogue her artefact. With shaking hands, she opened the lid, revealing the small, damaged globe she’d unearthed at the ancient temple. Aurora’s throat constricted with emotion, her vision now entirely clouded by tears.

“You stupid cow,” Aurora cursed, closing the lid.

“Ugly crier.”

“I h-hate you,” Aurora stammered.

“Yeah? Well, your hair looks terrible.”

“How could you do this?”

“With minimal effort. They left it out in the open.”

“Phaedra!”

Phaedra reached up, her cold, clammy hand wiping tears from Aurora’s face.

“You’re more than just the shit hand that Fate has dealt you, and I was worried you’d forget that.”

“Fae…”

She squeezed Aurora’s arm, her voice suddenly fierce.

“You’re a scholar. And after all the lectures about the long-dead King Theron and his long-dead bloody language you made me sit through, I’ll never let you forget it.”

Aurora choked on a teary laugh. Had it been less than a day since her whole life had been ripped out from under her? How quickly things had fallen away—her priorities, her pride, her sense of safety, of self. Yet even here, Phaedra lifted her up and out of the gloom. Aurora clutched the small box to her chest.

“You should have been more worried about yourself. If only for my sake,” Aurora sniffed.

Phaedra waved off her concern.

“We’re going to Gilvus next, right? Well, look forward to some pampering at my favourite beach houses while stuffing our faces with succulent seafood. If you’re going to be concerned about something, be concerned for my waistline.”

“No, actually, we won’t,” Silvanus cut in.

Both Aurora and Phaedra stared at him in bewilderment.

“What do you have against fun?” Phaedra asked.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Where else would we go?” Aurora asked.

“To the nearest major temple,” Silvanus replied. “We’ll find the most protection nearest powerful sites of divine magic.”

“What about awakening?”

Had he already given up on her? Was she truly hopeless? Could it be that all that was left for her to do was to cower inside one of the temples and pray the goddesses sent someone else to save them from Drakon?

“You already awakened your wild magic. Long ago, I suspect,” he answered.

“Did you hit your head in that fight?” Phaedra asked.

“I’ve never wielded magic before in my life. Nothing happened at the wellspring here! You saw it for yourself.”

“What I saw was that you froze the monstrosity before it devoured Her Highness.”

“But… I didn’t do anything.”

“Your Highness, did you freeze the monstrosity in its tracks?” Silvanus asked.

Phaedra shook her head.

Silvanus turned and called to the remaining warriors at the camp who were salvaging what they could and loading it onto the lopers.

“Who among you saved the princess from the monstrosity that was about to swallow her?”

No one replied, not even the imperial guard.

“It could have been one of the guards who were felled,” Aurora insisted.

“It wasn’t. I knew what they were all capable of. None of them had magic that could do that,” Phaedra said.

“But then…”

If she’d used magic today, that meant she’d had it her whole life. A lifetime wasted as she’d allowed her magic to atrophy, thinking it didn’t exist. How was she supposed to learn to wield it now, after decades of disuse? How had she managed in that critical moment?

“The closest temple is southeast, in Altanus Novus. We’ll send word to Boreas to have the imperial tutors meet us there.”

It was several days’ ride to Altanus Novus, the capital of Aureum. There were a few towns along the main road where they could gather the supplies they would need, now that theirs had been reduced to tatters, blowing away into the great expanse of the western desert. But that would turn every town into another target, for both monstrosities and Drakon. Did they have another choice?

“How long do I have to master it?” Aurora asked.

“I don’t know,” Silvanus answered. “Which is why we should leave now.”

Aurora tried to help Phaedra to her feet without success.

“I can… I can get up on my own,” Phaedra moaned.

Silvanus scooped her up and carried her off, much to Phaedra’s chagrin.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, Your Highness. You’ll need to ride with one of the paladins.”

“I thought you healed me,” she grouched.

“The wounds caused by the monstrosities, nothing more.”

“Incompetent ass,” she muttered.

“Allow me, Your Highness.” The tallest paladin offered her hand to Phaedra.

With barely more than a moment of silence for the slain, they were back on the road, the wind whipping up as the early morning sky began to dim.

“ No one else needs to die for our conflict, little mouse. Come to me, and let us be done with this game of ours .”

Aurora gripped Silvanus’ wrist.

“Drakon is close.”

Silvanus cursed, wrapping her in his divine magic.

It should have silenced the Beast of Old.

But its chuckle rattled inside her skull.

“ Not even your attack dog can prevent us from speaking when you’re this close, my sweet .”

“It’s not working. It’s too close to us,” Aurora replied, her panic rising.

“ He , little mouse. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten all the lifetimes we’ve shared .”

“What do you mean, too close? ” Silvanus asked.

“ No matter. We’ll have plenty of time to get reacquainted… ”

“Great goddesses, the sky!” Phaedra cried.

As if ripped straight from her nightmares, the sky above darkened, winds howling past her, swirling up and up. The gentle pinks and purples of sunrise bled into crimson, black clouds forming a vortex. Thunder reverberated in her bones and lightning arced across the sky. As if rending the very air, a great crack resounded across the whole of the desert and an ugly, jagged line formed in the sky. Ripping his way through the tear, Drakon emerged.

Blood-red scales and a crown of twisted black horns adorned his head, his gold eyes like macabre beacons in the darkness he spawned. Transfixed in horror, Aurora watched as he wriggled his long, serpentine body free, keeping his gaze locked on Aurora the whole while.

“What now?!” Phaedra screamed.

“We run! Follow me!” Silvanus shouted, his voice quickly swallowed up by the rising gale.

Silvanus turned their loper around and sped towards the Dragon’s Spine Mountains. As their party fled, ash began raining down, corrupting the very ground and birthing monstrosities where it piled up. With one last earth-shaking crack, Drakon freed himself from wherever he’d been sealed.

He dove.

“ You grow more beautiful with every rebirth. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into you .”