Page 20 of Veiled By Smoke (The Nature Hunters Academy #5)

She felt resistance, a sickening pushback—Danni’s magic was angry, lashing out in defense, trying to twist Penny’s intent, to confuse and repel her.

She gritted her teeth, sweat sliding down the back of her neck, and poured more of herself into the spell, letting her own will—her own hard, bitter refusal to be bested—surge through the channel.

With a final, whispered word, Penny’s magic pierced the barrier.

It didn’t break cleanly; the edges tore and bled, the darkness screaming as it was forced open.

Suddenly, she was through, tumbling into the maelstrom of Rory’s mind, with Rory herself standing at her side—wide-eyed, braced for battle.

Penny steadied herself, reaching out a mental hand. “You ready, kid?”

Rory’s anger was fire and steel. “Absolutely.”

The darkness around them shivered, the memory block shattering at the edges. Together, they stepped forward—into the storm of memory, pain, and buried truth.

P enny’s magic swept through her, not gentle but an insistent force that refused to let Rory hide from the locked rooms in her mind.

The world around her faded: the great hall, the whispers, even Aston’s hand in hers.

There was only blackness, thrumming with the echo of her own heartbeat.

Then, light flared a sickly, flickering orange, just like that night.

She was small again—well, not as small as she once remembered.

Eleven years old, on the cusp of growing up but still young enough to believe she could keep the whole world safe if she just tried hard enough.

The air was thick with smoke, her eyes stung, and her throat was raw from screaming.

The walls around her groaned and spat fire, shadows dancing like demons across the ceiling.

In the chaos, she could hear her father’s voice, desperate and hoarse, “Rory! Hold on, baby! I’m coming!”

She lunged toward him, but an iron grip yanked her back.

A woman she’d met a few times in a store where her mom liked to shop.

Rory remembered her name was Danni. The woman’s hand was cold and unyielding.

The woman’s nails dug into her arm, dragging her away from the only light, away from the sound of her parents’ love.

Rory twisted, kicked, her vision swimming. On the other side of the flames, her mother’s silhouette appeared, her arms outstretched, her face streaked with soot and terror. Their eyes met for a heartbeat, and in that look there was everything: love, fear, hope, and the agony of goodbye.

But somewhere in the fire, another sound—a cry, small and helpless, just beyond the roaring flames. Rory twisted, trying to see, and suddenly she remembered: her baby sister.

The memory hit her so suddenly she gasped, even in the dark of her mind.

She saw herself, ten years old, sitting on her mother’s lap, old enough to know what the word “big sister” meant and what it meant to promise you’d protect someone forever.

She remembered the day her parents told her she was going to have a baby sister—her mother’s hand on her belly, Rory’s hand pressed there too, feeling a tiny kick, the wild, giddy hope that filled her up and made her feel important.

Then, the hospital, the day her sister came home. Rory remembered the pink hat, the impossibly tiny fingers curling around hers, the way her parents beamed.

“Her name’s Aurora and she’s yours, too, Rory,” her mother whispered in her ear. “You’re her protector and her best friend. You will have each other always.”

Rory had promised, over and over, that she’d keep her sister safe.

She remembered the bottles, the late-night feedings, changing diapers, the little giggle that always made her laugh even when she tried to act like she was too old for baby games.

She remembered singing silly songs to Aurora, reading her picture books, feeling her sister’s dark hair—soft as down—under her fingers.

Eight months. Her sister had only been in the world eight months when everything went to hell.

The memory shifted, darkened. The night the fire came.

She saw her mother pushing her toward the door, heard the panic in her father’s voice—“Get Rory out! I’ll get the baby!

”—heard herself screaming as Danni’s magic yanked her back.

“Mama! Aurora!” Rory’s scream was an animal thing, ripped out of her soul.

“Don’t let her take me! Mama, please! Don’t let her take Aurora! ”

But the fire roared, devouring her mother’s voice, her father’s promise. Danni’s magic pulsed, black and oily, slithering into Rory’s mind. The woman’s voice hissed in her ear, cold as the grave. “You don’t need them. Forget. They’re ashes now, and you belong to me.”

“No!” Rory’s small fists beat against Danni’s arms. “I don’t! You’re not my mother!”

The world heaved, the pain blinding. Rory felt her memories, her real ones, being dragged away, wrapped in choking darkness.

Her parents’ faces blurred, their voices twisted into nothing.

And through the chaos, one last image, sharp as broken glass: firefighters wrapping a tiny, soot-smeared body in a blanket, cradling her sister as gently as a bundle of hope.

Rory screamed and fought and reached, but the smoke swallowed her sister’s face.

She never knew if her baby sister lived.

Danni’s spell buried it, locked it away, and Rory had grown up believing she was alone.

She tried to hold on, clutching at fleeting images: her father swinging her in the garden, her mother’s lullaby at bedtime with her and Aurora, the way they smelled of earth and cinnamon and summer rain.

Danni’s magic tightened, squeezing out the last of the light.

Rory’s head throbbed, her chest constricting.

The fire was gone. There was only a cold, endless hallway, doors slamming shut one by one, locking her away from herself.

Now, as the spell broke, the truth came roaring back—she had a sister.

She would be eleven or twelve now. If she was alive.

Rory’s knees buckled in the dark, pain and hope warring in her chest. The darkness tried to smother her again, but Penny’s voice cut through: You’re not alone, kid. She doesn’t get to win. Not now. Dig deeper. Make her regret ever touching your soul.

Rory let out a shuddering breath. “I want them back,” she whispered, not to Penny, not even to herself, but to that stubborn, unbroken part of her soul.

The darkness pushed harder. Danni’s laughter echoed, cruel and victorious: “You’re nothing without me. Weak. Empty. You couldn't even save your sister, a helpless babe.”

But Rory’s anger surged, now burning bright with the memory of Aurora. “No. I am not yours. I am my own. I’m a daughter, a sister, a soul bonded mate, a friend, a dragonrider and even a witch, but not the kind you tried to mold me into. I am not empty.”

She fought her way up, staggering, clawing at the locked doors in her mind, Penny’s magic wedged in the cracks.

She remembered, with so much more detail, falling to her knees scraping the earth as her captive dragged her from the burning house.

She’d begged Danni not to take her, the way her voice had cracked from screaming her sister’s name, hoping—praying—she’d survived.

She remembered the moment hope died and hatred was born.

The years after Danni’s lies, the cold, endless lessons, the way she was always punished for any hint of defiance or joy.

Memories swirled, painful and bright and raw, until her whole body shook with the effort of holding on.

Another door yielded, just a crack. Behind it, her mother’s voice, soft and fierce: You are more than their darkness, Rory. You are made of light, and you shine brighter than the stars.

The words blazed inside her, burning away the oily shadows.

She saw her sister’s face, round-cheeked, big-eyed, beaming up at her with trust. Rory threw herself at the door, teeth bared, and it burst open.

Light exploded, flooding her mind with every memory, every loss, every truth, including the fierce, unbreakable love she’d had for Aurora.

She saw her parents as they truly were: loving, brave, flawed, real.

She saw herself, not as Danni’s tool or a broken child, but as someone worthy of love and vengeance and hope.

The magic that had bound her snapped like a cheap thread. Danni’s hold recoiled and vanished. Rory gasped, chest heaving, not with weakness, but with fury and pride.

Rory’s eyes flew open. “I have a sister,” she gasped.

For a second, the world spun, too bright, too loud.

She was shaking, sweat slick on her skin, but her gaze was sharp, defiant.

Aston was there, arms ready, but she didn’t collapse into him; she just grabbed his hand, squeezing tight, anchoring herself to now.

She looked up into his concerned face. “Aurora. That’s her name. My baby sister.”

Aston brushed sweaty hair away from her face and pressed his warm hand to her clammy skin. “We will find out what happened to her. I promise you, I’ll find her.”

Rory had no doubt that if anyone could hunt down someone in this digital age, her man could do it.

Across from her, Penny was pale and trembling, but grinning with exhausted satisfaction. “You did it, Rory,” she managed, voice rough. “You broke her. Not the other way around.”

Rory wiped her eyes. There would be no tears, just sweat and triumph. “I did. And I remember everything. She made me forget, but I wasn’t going to let her win. Not after taking my memories of Aurora.” Her voice was steel. She looked around at those who supported her and had become family.

Aston’s relief was a soft exhale. Kimba’s eyes shone with approval. Gabby looked like she wanted to throw a party. Even Osiris seemed less distant, a faint nod acknowledging her courage.

Penny smirked, swiping a hand across her brow. “I’ve seen a lot of stubborn in my day, but you might take the cake. Remind me never to babysit your future kids.”

Rory grinned, the anger in her eyes now a weapon she could wield. “Don’t worry, you’re off the hook. But I might need you for revenge babysitting.”

Liam let out a low whistle. “Remind me never to let Rory watch our kids.”

Gabby elbowed him. “Kids are a long, long, loooong way off.”

The group closed in, their support fierce and tangible. For the first time, Rory felt not just remembered, but real herself, whole, and burning for payback.

Penny, breathless but proud, managed, “You’re a hell of a lot more than Danni ever saw. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.”

Rory nodded, jaw set, eyes blazing. “She took my family. But I gained a new one. She tried to make me into a puppet who would spread her evil. But all she did was create someone ready to kick evil’s ass.

” She squeezed Aston’s hand and lifted her chin, daring the world to try her.

“And if Aurora is alive,” her voice cracked a little on the word, but she shored herself up.

“I will get her back and keep her safe.”

Aston squeezed her hand, and Kimba stepped closer, her presence a shield and a comfort.

“We’ll help you, Rory,” Kimba said, her voice gentle but sure. “We’ll find her together. That’s what family does.”

“I say we kick some demon ass and burn some dark elementals," Gabby said as she snapped her fingers, making a flame appear. “And find the other half of the Roar sisters."

“Roar sisters?” Aston asked.

Gabby smirked, “Rory and Aurora? Double roars going on, hence the Roar sisters. I thought you were a genius or something. Just don’t got street smarts, do ya?” She waved him off. “No worries, me and Roar got more than enough to keep you covered. You just do your techy thing and find Little Roar.”

“Little Roar,” Rory said softly. “I like that.”

“If she’s anything like you, I’m sure she’s got claws to go with her roar,” Kimba said, humor dancing in her blue eyes. “Not to mention she’s probably a sassy little heifer.”

Rory laughed at the way Penny’s eyes widened.

“While, I am in agreement that you all should definitely kick demon ass and find the little tiger,” Penny began, “Rory is going to need a couple days to recoup. I just broke a major spell on her and though I know she feels better,” she looked at Rory pointedly, “there is healing that must take place.”

Gabby sighed. “Ugh, it seems just like a witch to rain on someone’s stabby parade.”

Penny frowned. “I have no idea what that even means. But if it’s remotely on the topic of using common sense, then yes, I’m down pouring on your crazy.”

“I agree,” Kimba spoke up. “I will not be going anywhere until I’m sure you’re ready. Meanwhile, we can get Aston any sort of technical equipment he needs.” She met Rory’s eyes and she knew she wouldn’t change her dragon-bonded’s mind. Kimba was every bit as stubborn as she was.

“Computers,” Tara said. “You’re talking about computers. And the internet. Can you get the internet in the dragon realm?”

The dragon king huffed, causing smoke to come out of his snout. “We’re beings of magic. We can get any kind of net, inter or outer.”

“Oh snap.” Gabby shook her head. “You’re going to have to dumb it down for the reptiles, Aston.”

“Fine, as long as Aston can get started,” Rory huffed. “I’ll rest. But I expect shirtless male training, purely for learning purposes, while I’m out of commission. It will be a good distraction from worrying about Aurora. Which is all I’ll be doing.”

“I second that.” Gabby raised her hand.

“Yup.” Tara rubbed her hands together.

Shelly started to open her mouth but snapped it shut when Ra gave her a stern look and simply shook his head.

Penny looked at the group and then Rory. “And you guys think witches are strange?”