Page 19 of Veiled By Smoke (The Nature Hunters Academy #5)
“Note to self: When someone asks you to come to the dragon realm, the answer should always be no.” ~Penny
P enny had been in some awkward rooms before—family court, a failed speed-dating event involving a warlock, even that time she’d accidentally crashed an elven wake.
But the dragon realm’s great hall, with its vaulted ceilings, flickering blue flames, and the scent of ozone and roasting meat wafting in from somewhere, took the cake.
She stepped out of the portal into a crowd of strangers. A collection of mythical beings. All of which looked weary as hell as they stared at her.
Ra cleared his throat, stepping up like a bouncer at a magical nightclub. “Everyone, this is Penny. She’s the witch from the Blackhorn coven. She’s agreed to help Rory.”
He turned to Penny, gesturing to the others. “Penny, this is Kimba. She’s the soul bonded queen. That’s Osiris, the soul bonded king, former ruler of hell. He’s mostly retired, and he’s complicated.”
Osiris, with his all-imposing presence and unreadable eyes, gave her a nod that was equal parts regal and “I really don’t give a shit about you because they made me be here.”
For a moment, all Penny could do was stare at the king and queen.
The fifth element. The forgotten soul bonded.
In the witches' grimoires it was written as a myth, as nothing more than legend.
But here they were in the flesh. Ra cleared his throat, and she shook off her amazement and focused back on the introductions.
“Sepheron, the dragon king,” Ra continued, gesturing to the massive, red dragon with golden eyes.
Sepheron inclined his head as smoke rose from his nostrils. She really hoped he didn’t get hungry. Apparently, at least in the past, witches were at the top of their menu.
“The redhead with perpetually cut-up clothes is Gabby,” Ra said, nodding to the tall, female who had a wicked gleam in her eyes and a smirk that could cut glass. “She’s our trouble magnet.”
Liam, standing close to Gabby, gave a lazy wave. “I’m the magnet,” he said, waggling his eyebrows up and down suggestively.
“Also known as the resident pervert,” Shelly added wryly.
Liam shrugged. “You know what they say? Every group of warriors out to save the world needs a pervert.”
“No one says that,” Gabby told him as she pinched his side, which just made him move closer to her.
“That's Aston,” Ra kept going, ignoring the banter, pointing to a tall guy who, though obviously well built, had serious nerd vibes.
His arm was wrapped around a smaller, dark-haired female who very much looked like she might stab Penny if she even took a step towards Aston.
“He’s attached to Rory at the soul, so good luck prying him away.
“Next to Aston is Elias. He’s British, but we try not to hold it against him. Luckily, he doesn’t talk much.”
Elias glared at Ra. “When did you get a sense of humor? I liked you better without it.”
The large Egyptian male simply stared back blankly at Elias. Then moved on to the next person. “Beside him is Tara, his soul bonded. She’s also Shelly’s best friend and is violent when it comes to my female’s safety."
Tara watched Penny with an open, curious expression, her freckles standing out on pale skin.
“Noted,” Penny said.
“And Rory,” Ra finished, nodding to the young woman with the death glare at Aston’s side. Rory had a stubborn jaw, a soul-searing gaze, and the air of someone who’d bite your hand if you tried to pet her.
Penny wrapped her arms around the old grimoire, pressing it to her chest as if it could protect her. “Nice to meet you all. Y’all look exactly like the world’s weirdest yearbook page.”
Gabby grinned, unfazed. “Just missing the pitchforks and the ‘Most Likely to Save the Universe’ superlative.”
Liam elbowed her. “That’s obviously me.”
Osiris raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Kimba’s expression was unreadable, but her eyes missed nothing.
Sepheron’s voice rumbled. “Are you capable, witch?”
“Define capable.” Penny shrugged. “If you mean, ‘Can I break a spell put on someone else’s mind by a psycho witch?’ Maybe. If you mean, ‘Am I going to accidentally explode your castle?’ Also maybe. It’s been a week.”
Shelly stifled a laugh. “She’s honest. From what I understand, that’s as good as you get with witches.”
Penny turned her attention to Rory. “So, you’re the one with the scrambled brains.”
Rory crossed her arms, chin up. “I’m not broken. Just pissed that someone thought they could mess with my head.”
Penny grinned. “Good. Anger’s useful. It means you’re not letting Danni win.”
Rory cocked an eyebrow, lips quirking. “You going to monologue, or are you actually going to do something?”
“Listen, kid, I’m contractually obligated to provide at least ten minutes of cryptic warnings and dry humor before any spellwork,” Penny deadpanned. Humor was her go to when she was nervous, and she was nervous as hell. “It’s in the witch handbook. Right after the section on hexing ex-boyfriends.”
Gabby laughed. “I like her, she’s got spunk.” Turning to Penny, she added, “I’d seriously hate to have to kill you, so don’t double cross us. I’m tired of being disappointed.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” Penny muttered as she motioned for Rory to take a seat on the floor.
“I don’t need you passing out and cracking your skull on the stone floor.
” She knelt in front of Rory, dropping her battered satchel with a thud.
She started pulling out supplies: beeswax candles, a bundle of dried rosemary, a stick of black chalk, and a crystal that shimmered faintly with green light.
She looked up at the crowd. “For the record, I don’t usually do this with an audience. Or in a room with dragons. Or with the fifth element royalty glowering at me.” She flashed Osiris a too-bright grin.
Osiris replied, voice sharp as a knife, “Just don’t give me a reason to intervene.”
“That’s the goal,” Penny said, arranging the candles in a tight circle around Rory and herself.
“Here’s the deal. Memory blocks are nasty, especially when put in by someone with power and a mean streak.
I’m going to try to break it, but it’s like picking a lock from the inside while someone is setting off fireworks in your brain.
I’ll need silence, no interruptions, and, uh, if I start foaming at the mouth, just knock me out and try again tomorrow. ”
Rory snorted. “You’re making me feel really confident, Penny.”
Penny smirked. “Good. Confidence is the only thing standing between us and magical brain soup.”
Penny leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Seriously, you’ll have to meet me halfway. If you feel something locking down inside your mind, push back. If Danni’s magic fights me, fight harder. It’s yours to take back, not mine to steal.”
Rory met her gaze, fire burning in her eyes. “I want my memories. All of them. I want to remember what she took. Let’s do this.”
Aston squeezed Rory’s hand. “I’m right here.”
Penny nodded, then glanced at the others. “Last call for the faint of heart. No refunds.”
No one moved.
Penny rolled her shoulders, exhaling slowly as she dipped her finger into the vial of shimmering green oil.
She met Rory’s eyes–steady, burning with anger–and offered a lopsided, reassuring smirk.
Then she pressed her finger to Rory’s brow, drawing a sigil with practiced care: a spiral at the center, lines radiating outward, ancient and purposeful.
As she drew, the crystal at her side pulsed, its green light growing sharper with every pass, casting eerie shadows across Rory’s face and Penny’s hands.
The air thickened, charged with the heady scent of rosemary and the sweet, almost cloying aroma of melting beeswax.
Beneath it, the room’s ever-present undercurrent of dragon magic prickled Penny’s skin, a reminder that even the stones here had teeth.
She set the last mark, then placed the crystal gently in Rory’s palm. “Don’t let go,” she murmured. “It’s your anchor. You drop it, you lose your way back.”
Rory’s grip was iron. “I’ve been lost long enough. I’m done being Alice in the damn rabbit hole.”
Penny nodded, then began to chant, her eyes remaining open so she could gauge Rory’s outward reaction while her mind would keep watch inside the spell.
The words were low and guttural, not so much spoken as breathed into the world.
They belonged to an old tongue, almost as old as dragons, a language that tasted like iron and rain and thunder in Penny’s mouth.
The flames of the candles flickered and flared, the sigil on Rory’s forehead glowing as if lit from within. The room’s sounds faded: no more shuffling feet, no nervous breaths, nothing but the sizzle of wax and the distant, lonely roar of something deep in the castle’s heart.
Magic coiled around Penny’s hands, invisible but heavy, making her limbs tingle and her scalp prickle. She felt her consciousness slipping—like stepping off the edge of a dock into a cold, bottomless lake. The world of the hall receded, colors blurring, light fading.
For a moment, there was nothing but blackness–thick, pressing, absolute. So much for watching Rory’s outward appearance. Penny reached, searching for the thread of Rory’s mind, and found it: a spark of stubborn, furious will burning in the dark.
She pushed forward, her magic meeting the barrier left by Danni’s spell. It was slick and oily, a wall built from pain and lies, writhing and whispering in a voice that was not quite human. The closer Penny got, the colder the air became, and there was a bitter taste on her tongue.
She pressed harder, chanting louder in her mind, her magic probing for a weakness.
Finally in the darkness, Penny saw the sigil on Rory’s brow blaze, the crystal in her hand pulsing in time with her heart.
Penny’s magic wormed its way in, not forceful but relentless—seeking, nudging, teasing at the edges of the block.