Scene 1

  Elara

  I lie back on my cot as the camp settles into evening, the sounds of men laughing and armor clinking drifting through the canvas walls. It was a good day. Long, but good. The weather warmed enough that my fingers did not ache by midday, and Vitalis and Kethis spoke more than I have ever heard them. Lyra announced she was going to find food and company, which likely means she is gambling away her wages again. She invited me. I declined.

  Instead, I reach for my journal.

  It has always been easier to speak to the page first. Easier to remember. Easier to prepare what I will someday show Mira.

  I balance the book against my knees, the familiar leather worn smooth beneath my thumb, and dip my quill. Before anything else, I write questions at the top of the page. Mira has always loved that. She will study them carefully, then send her reply in another letter weeks later, answering each one with thought and patience. It is how we have spoken for years now. A way to set emotion aside long enough to tell the truth.

  How long have you been working with Lorewarden Branis, and how long have you truly been in the vaults?

  Is there more you are not sharing with me?

  What have you been researching lately?

  I pause, quill hovering, searching for another question that has lingered with me all week.

  Have you heard anything from home?

  The words settle too heavily on the page. I scratch them out before the ink can dry. I do not need to know. I do not need to remember.

  Do you think I should tell him?

  I hesitate, then continue before I can stop myself. Vitalis thinks I need to share the memory with Ryker. The one of us watching his father die because they were getting us to Cliffside. I am afraid it will hurt us.

  I stop.

  Us.

  I stare at the word longer than I mean to. I want there to be an us. But I am not sure this truth would survive it.

  How do you think I should have that conversation?

  I set the quill down, breathing once, steadying myself, before turning the page to actually write.

  I think about the day. About the moments that stayed with me. I grab my quill and begin writing again.

  This morning, along the river at our first resting place, Lyra and I spoke about the Rune Father.

  The forest there is dense, the pines so tall that even the light seems careful passing through them. We have seen little these past few days. A few deer slipping between the trunks, gone almost before I could focus on them. I do not remember how the conversation began, only that it did, quietly, the way important things often do.

  She asked me if I believe in him.

  I wrote that I answered yes without hesitation.

  She asked why.

  As I remember it, she was not challenging me. She sounded thoughtful, almost distant, as she spoke of the scrolls we still have. Of the stories that say the Rune Father wrote the world into being, shaped the runes, and let everything else grow from them. Then she asked why, if that were true, so much tragedy was written into it. Why would the Rune Father write a story like this for everyone?

  I remember sitting with that question for a long time.

  As I write this now, I can still feel Vitalis stir. Her presence brushed against mine, warm and steady, and my rune responded. A memory rose before I could stop it. I did not push it away.

  I was younger.

  I was sitting at the window, watching horses being saddled below.

  My mother sat beside me and asked what was wrong.

  I told her I was confused about the Rune Father. I remember that I could not look away from the window as I spoke. After a moment, her hand moved through my hair, slow and gentle.

  She told me she was there if I wanted to talk, and that it was okay if I did not.

  Something broke open in me then.

  I asked her why he created pain.

  She did not seem startled by the question. She asked me what I thought instead.

  “I understand why bad people suffer,” I told her. “I do not understand why good people do.”

  She let the silence stretch before asking, “What about the times you fell from trees, or were thrown from a horse because you were careless? Did you learn from it?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Did you keep that knowledge to yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Then even though you were hurt,” she said softly, “you were able to help others avoid the same pain. Or help them through it when they could not.”

  The memory begins to fade as I write this. I held onto it longer than I should have. It was one of the last conversations we had before she left.

  After it loosened its grip, I told Lyra what I could.

  “I am not sure I have the right answer,” I said. “But I think we go through pain because we are meant to choose what we do with it. We can grow from it. We can share it. Or we can let it harden us.”

  Choice. I wrote that the word stayed with me.

  “I do not think the Rune Father writes every story directly,” I told her. “I think he wrote the world, the larger story, and then left us room to write our own. What happens matters. But how we accept it, how we carry it forward, that is what continues the story.”

  Lyra watched Kethis for a long moment after that. She did not argue. We gathered our things and moved on.

  The second moment of the day returns to me anyway, uninvited, and my mouth curves before I can stop it.

  “You know,” Lyra said, turning a large cutthroat over the fire, “I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “You know who. The one who couldn’t stop staring. The one you healed while holding his chin. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

  “I was helping him,” I said. “I didn’t want him to move. And he doesn’t look at me any differently than anyone else.”

  “Uh huh.”

  My thoughts had betrayed me then, racing through the moments Ryker had looked at me. Really looked. Had not pulled away.

  “How do you know him?” I asked quickly.

  “I’ve seen him hunt,” Lyra said. “He was incredible even before the bond. He and his father used to fill carts with game together. Inseparable.”

  Her voice softened.

  “After his father died, he pulled away. After the rune accident, even more.”

  “I have been on the other side of those outcomes too,” I said quietly.

  She studied me then. “You two have something.”

  Then she laughed as Vitalis and Kethis spoke again, close and intent.

  “Vitalis says one of these days she’s going to leave the nest so you can either make up or make out. Probably both.”

  “Anyway,” I muttered, “what’s it like, being able to communicate so easily with your dragon?”

  “Kethis and I have been able to since fully bonding,” Lyra said. “It’s different for everyone.”

  “What do you talk about?”

  “The usual things,” she said softly. “Mostly about how we are doing.”

  The memory fades, leaving me staring down at the empty lines of my journal.

  Vitalis pushes her scaled head through the door of the stone wall, pale eyes bright. The moment our bond opens, a direction presses into me.

  South.

  Her certainty floods the bond, sharp and insistent.

  Come with me.

  Or I am going without you.

  Scene 2

  Elara

  We fly south for only a few minutes, skimming so low that the tips of the snow covered trees rush past beneath us. The wind bites at my nose and cheeks, sharp enough that my eyes water. I forgot my outer gear in my rush to follow Vitalis. She had not waited, her urgency pulling at me through the bond before I could think twice. I understand why now. The closer we draw, the stronger her awareness of Obsidian becomes, a quiet insistence that hums through my chest.

  We land in a small field where thin strands of tall grass push stubbornly through the snow. Even they do not seem to realize how fast winter is coming. The thought stays with me as I slide down from Vitalis’s side and follow her into the trees. Snow lies nearly to my knees in the open field, but the forest softens it, sheltering the ground beneath tangled branches. The clouds overhead are heavy and gray, yet they lend the landscape a muted kind of beauty. The air is still, no wind at all, and though the light suggests late afternoon, the calm makes it feel like a pause stolen from time. Months ago I was trapped behind stone walls, aching for the world beyond the city. Now I am here. Free. It feels right in a way I do not question.

  The trees grow thick as we move deeper, their trunks dark and close together. The snow thins here, packed and disturbed by passing life. We follow a narrow trail that winds through the forest. I spot signs of small animals preparing for winter, squirrels darting between roots, birds flitting low through the branches. There are tracks too, the faint imprint of hooves pressed into the frost. Not many creatures remain active now, but enough to remind me that life endures even in the cold.

  The silence settles around us, deep and complete. It is the kind of quiet that clears the mind, that leaves nothing to cling to except breath and thought.

  Then I hear him before I see him.

  Obsidian’s presence ripples through the bond, and moments later I glimpse him through a narrow opening in the trees. The large blue scaled dragon stands out starkly against the pale forest, his form unmistakable even at a distance. Vitalis, by contrast, nearly disappears into her surroundings, her lighter coloring blending seamlessly with snow and bark.

  The clearing is smaller than I first thought, too small for the dragons to land. That is when I realize it is not solid ground at all, but a shallow pond, its surface dark and still beneath a thin skin of ice. The forest curves protectively around it.

  My attention returns to the dragons as they meet each other’s gaze. They circle slowly, the familiar silent exchange unfolding between them before they turn and disappear together into the trees.

  Something in my chest tightens at the sight. That longing. The desire to reach, to be known, to belong beside someone else. I push the feeling aside as I notice a faint thread of smoke rising beyond the pond’s edge. I head toward it, already knowing it must be Ryker.

  Snow begins to fall in light drifting tufts as I walk, barely more than a whisper against my coat. I rub my hands together and breathe into them, warming my fingers, then touch my nose and ears, certain they must be red from the cold. The temperature has dropped quickly, and I quicken my pace toward the fire.

  Halfway there, something shifts.

  A prickle along my spine.

  I slow, careful with my steps, listening. The air feels charged in a way I cannot name. It reminds me of the Vault. I stand still for a moment, letting the sensation pass before forcing myself to move again.

  I round the edge of a tree and stop.

  Ryker kneels beside the fire, hands folded, head bowed.

  He is praying.

  The sight catches my breath, and I remain where I am, watching. He kneels on a dark brown blanket, the flames casting soft light across his face. His eyes are closed, his hands clasped tightly together. I never took him for someone who believed. If I remember correctly, he once told Mira that he did not.

  And yet here he is.

  Not speaking aloud, but the intent is unmistakable.

  He lifts his head suddenly, the moment finished. He stands and turns, gathering his things, and then he sees me. Fear flashes across his face before he schools it away. He lifts one hand in a small wave.

  “I’m sorry,” I say as I step closer. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “It’s okay,” he replies. “I knew you were close when Obsidian took off into the woods. I figured they would want time together before night came.”

  He spreads the blanket wider and gestures for me to sit beside the fire. I do not hesitate. I lower myself onto the edge of the blanket, welcoming the warmth as it seeps into my bones.

  “Here,” he says, handing me his hat and scarf. “Did you really think you could face the cold like that today?”

  There is a smile in his voice as he stands, holding his hands out toward the flames.

  “Well,” I say, tugging the scarf closer, “Vitalis decided she was leaving whether I was ready or not. I grabbed what I could before she took off.”

  The warmth inside me grows, different from the fire’s heat. Stronger. Closer.

  He glances around the clearing, alert, as if ensuring we are alone.

  “You know you can sit,” I say lightly. “I promise I won’t bite.”

  His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he gives in. He circles the fire and sits beside me, close enough that I can feel his presence.

  “Long day?” he asks, holding his hands toward the fire.

  “The same as yesterday,” I answer. “Patrols, watching the skies, flying back before dark. Vitalis hates the cold. I think that’s why she’s been so exhausted lately.”

  He nods.

  “What about you and Obsidian?” I ask. “Are things better between you?”

  I shift so I can see him fully. He stares into the fire, silent for a long moment, weighing his words.

  “You can trust me,” I add softly.

  “I know,” he says. “I just don’t always trust myself.” He exhales slowly. “I think things could get better if I stopped pushing him away.”

  He finally looks at me, and the fear in his eyes flickers like the firelight.

  “I didn’t realize how fragile the bond is,” he continues. “Why so many dragons leave when they’re rejected.” His voice falters. “When we were in the air, Obsidian reached out and asked one thing. Just one word. Please.”

  I already know the answer.

  “You said no.”

  He nods. “After that, it felt like I was alone again. Not just alone. Like losing someone. Like forgetting why you’re still standing.”

  My thoughts go to his father. To the truth I carry and have not spoken. A whisper brushes the edge of my mind through the bond. Tell.

  Not now.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. The words feel small. “The bond is still there, though?”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “Yes,” he answers. “But if I reject him again, I don’t think there will be anything left.”

  I nod. I understand that kind of edge, the moment where choice becomes irreversible.

  As time passes, his shoulders loosen. He leans into me slightly, and I rest my head against his arm.

  “Thank you,” I say softly.

  He looks down at me, emotion held carefully in place, and for the first time, it feels like enough to simply be here.

  Scene 3

  Elara

  The next afternoon settles into us like routine.

  The sky hangs low but bright, the cold sharp without bite. Patrol is uneventful, the kind that asks nothing but attention. Vitalis glides easily beneath me, her wings steady, her thoughts calm through the bond.

  It should feel reassuring.

  Instead, the silence presses in the same way it did the night before.

  Kethis and Lyra lead us toward the edge of the tree line. I watch the gentle slope of hills give way to water, the trees thinning as the land opens. My thoughts drift despite myself, pulled backward to firelight, to quiet truths shared and left unfinished.

  Ryker.

  The runes surface in my mind without invitation. Pain. Remember. Two truths circling the same wound from different sides. Lyra’s words echo faintly. One more chance. One more choosing.

  Vitalis presses harder through the bond, no fear in it, only recognition. A quiet insistence that hums through my chest.

  Together.

  The meaning almost settles.

  Almost.

  A sharp whistle cuts through the air.

  Then another.

  I snap my gaze forward just in time to see Lyra wrench Kethis’s reins as his wings flare, startled, scrambling for lift. The air erupts with motion. Arrows burst from the trees, a sudden black storm. I register the impact before I understand it, shafts striking Kethis’s scales and bouncing away with sharp cracks.

  Then pain lances through my leg.

  I gasp and look down to see an arrow buried deep, its shaft trembling with each movement. Vitalis reacts before I can think, her body shifting beneath me, wings angling hard as she twists away from the barrage.

  Ahead, a larger projectile streaks upward, a thin line glowing red as it cuts through the air. It slams into Kethis’s chest. The smaller arrows skitter off his scales, useless, but this one bites deep, lodging in his chest cavity. Kethis roars, the sound breaking into the trees as his wings falter and he crashes downward.

  Vitalis moves without waiting for my command. She zigzags the way they taught us, wings pitching back and forth as arrows continue to strike. My stomach lurches violently with every shift. I feel sharp pinches through the bond where arrows hit her, flashes of pain she tries to shield me from.

  Then a burning shock tears through my right arm.

  I look to her wing and my breath stutters. Large holes rip through the membrane, edges ragged. Her wing pitches, then folds in on itself.

  We fall.

  Branches tear past us as we crash through the canopy. Limbs strike my face and shoulders, knocking the air from my lungs. I nearly lose my grip as we slam into the ground, pine needles and frozen earth exploding upward in a cloud of debris.

  My vision blurs. Somewhere in the chaos, the arrow in my leg snaps, the sudden release of pressure sending fresh pain screaming through me. I shove it down, hard, forcing myself to stay present as Vitalis struggles back to her feet.

  The bond flares wildly. Fear. Pain. Urgency.

  My breath comes in shallow gasps, panic threatening to pull me under. I reach for anything, physical or mental, to anchor us both.

  The vial.

  My fingers fumble inside my jacket until I find it. I twist it open with shaking hands, praying silently.

  Rune Father. Not to drag us into memory. Only to steady us. Please.

  The scent of rosemary fills the air as I inhale deeply.

  Our rune of Remember flares bright, warmth washing through my chest. I force my breathing to slow, speaking out loud so Vitalis can follow.

  “In. Out. Again.”

  Our breaths sync.

  Seconds pass, or maybe minutes. Time stretches thin. The bond between Vitalis and me settles, fear loosening its grip. I feel her reach outward, searching, and then something catches. A connection forming beyond me.

  I need Ryker.

  The thought forms without meaning to.

  I need you.

  I lift my head and see Kethis and Lyra ahead of us. They are down hard, worse off than we are.

  I try to stand. My leg buckles instantly. Vitalis lowers herself without hesitation, steadying me as we make our way toward them.

  Lyra is conscious. Her arm hangs at an unnatural angle, clearly broken, but she barely seems to notice. The moment she sees me, she does not hesitate.

  “Help him,” she says, voice breaking. “I’ll be fine. Please help him. Elara, please. I can’t lose him.”

  I want to reassure her, but the words catch in my throat when I reach Kethis.

  Warm blood pours from the massive metal arrow lodged in his chest. The shaft is etched with runes of strength and speed, their glow already fading as they lose power. The only reason it pierced dragon scale at all.

  Vitalis’s attention splits, part of her scanning the trees. Watching for movement.

  I drop to my knees and reach for my satchel, fingers already moving for the jar of ink so I can draw runes on the scales.

  My hand sinks into wetness.

  I pull it out to find black ink smeared across my skin, the jar shattered inside the bag.

  I drop the satchel, frustration flaring hot and useless.

  Think.

  My mind races through every healing rune I know. Mend. Motion reversal. Calm. None of them will stop internal bleeding. We do not have enough healing runes. Most of what we know reshapes, redirects, binds.

  Rune Father, what do I do?

  Warmth touches my shoulder.

  My rune flares again, brighter this time. An image rises unbidden in my mind. A symbol carved into the wall of the vault. One without a name beneath it.

  Sustain.

  The word settles into me with weight and certainty.

  “If this goes wrong,” I whisper, “I might not come back the same.”

  I make the choice then. Not to paint the rune. To carve it directly into Kethis’s scales. It will hurt him. It might cost me. But it may be the only way to keep him alive.

  I look at Lyra.

  “We need to pull it out,” I say. “Then he has to hold still.”

  She nods once.

  Together, we grip the arrow and yank it free. Blood surges instantly, pooling fast. I shut my eyes and begin to trace the rune directly onto his scales. A circular, wavering shape, lines flowing inward and outward, layered with intent.

  Calm. Mend. Sustain.

  I arrange them in a triangle around the wound, forcing my breathing steady as I push power into them slowly, evenly.

  Weakness crashes into me almost immediately. I have never activated three runes at once.

  My hand grows heavy. My vision starts to dim. Through the bond, Vitalis reaches for me, pouring strength back into my core. I cling to it and push again.

  The runes glow.

  Scales knit together beneath my fingers. Blood slows, then stops. Kethis’s breathing evens into long, deep pulls as his body finally gives in to the pain and slips into unconsciousness.

  Alive.

  I sag back, shaking.

  Lyra stares at me, pain etched across her face, but awe there too. “How did you do that?” she asks. “What rune was that?”

  “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “But I think he’ll live.”

  A deep growl ripples through Vitalis, low and feral.

  I look up to see her teeth bared, eyes locked on the trees. Figures move between the trunks. Men. Shouting. Closing in.

  “What do we do?” I ask.

  Lyra grits her teeth. “We can’t leave. We defend.”

  She moves fast, tracing the rune of rock and rise again and again, carving a V shaped formation around us. The ground shudders as the runes activate. I force the last of my strength into them, watching stone tear upward from the earth, forming a rough wall nearly five feet high.

  My hands shake violently now. Rune fever hums just beneath my skin. I know if I try again, I might not come back.

  I limp to Vitalis. She lowers herself so I can climb on, strapping in with trembling fingers. I draw my short sword, the metal catching the fading afternoon light.

  “Okay,” I whisper to her. “Obsidian and Ryker are coming. We just have to hold.”

  An arrow whistles past the wall.

  Vitalis meets my gaze and nods, resolve flooding through the bond.

  We stay low.

  We wait.

  We protect.

  Then Vitalis rears back and roars into the sky, a call that tears through the trees.

  A signal.

  Ryker is coming.

  Scene 4

  Ryker

  Drexen had been in a mood ever since the night he lost control of his dragon. It hung on him like smoke, sour and unavoidable. This morning he finally snapped, told me I wasn’t following orders and that if I disobeyed again he would report me to Captain Thalos and the council. So I decided early that today I would nod, follow, and keep my mouth shut. Sometimes respect isn’t for the man standing in front of you, but for the position he holds. I believed in that. I still do. I respect the military, the riders who stand between this kingdom and the dark. But believing in a system does not mean believing every person inside it is without fault.

  That thought stayed with me as we flew, turning over what the kingdom was supposed to represent and how many leaders I still trusted. Thalos was one of them. He always had been. My father admired him, spoke of him like a standard others should measure themselves against. Thalos had served in every corner of the guilds, transferred again and again so he could understand both people and dragons before being named captain. My father used to say that was the kind of man you followed without question.

  Now, I was not so sure. Some of the things Thalos had said lately sat wrong in my chest, like a stone I could not shift no matter how I breathed.

  We banked left to keep formation with Drexen and his Pyraeth. Patrol had dragged on longer than usual, the kind of flight that wears you down without ever giving you a reason. The weather held steady, barely any snow falling, but the cold still cut through my leathers. Obsidian’s breath clouded the air alongside mine, both of us exhaling in pale bursts that vanished almost as soon as they formed.

  Then the bond snapped tight.

  Obsidian jerked hard beneath me, his head whipping side to side. Fear slammed into me through the bond, sharp and sudden.

  What is it? I pushed the thought toward him, keeping my grip steady even as my pulse spiked.

  He roared, anger and panic threading together.

  “Obsidian. Focus.” I forced calm into the bond the way I had been trained.

  The formation broke as Drexen noticed the movement and signaled us down. We landed in a nearby clearing, frost crunching under talons and boots.

  Drexen’s Pyraeth approached slowly as Obsidian turned east, muscles coiling as if he meant to launch again. Before he could, Pyraeth stepped into his path, heat radiating off its scales.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Ryker?” Drexen shouted. “You don’t get to abandon your duties.”

  I did not look at him. My eyes stayed east, my attention locked on the pull in my chest that was not my own.

  “Something’s wrong,” I said, my voice tight. I pressed a hand to Obsidian’s neck, grounding both of us. “Vitalis. Elara. Obsidian felt it first.”

  I swallowed, then added the truth that mattered. “I’m not ignoring this.”

  Drexen scoffed. “You felt something. That doesn’t mean anything is wrong. Dragons react to all kinds of nonsense.”

  Obsidian shifted beneath me, restless, his tail carving a shallow groove through the frost. The pull in my chest had not eased. It was tightening.

  “This isn’t nothing,” I said. “You saw him. He doesn’t panic.”

  “You don’t break patrol because of a feeling,” Drexen snapped. “We follow orders.”

  “Then have your dragon ask mine,” I said.

  He froze.

  “What?”

  “If Obsidian’s wrong, Pyraeth will tell you. Let them talk.”

  “My dragon doesn’t need to coddle yours,” he said sharply. “Get back in line.”

  “That’s not how this works,” I said. “You know that.”

  “I said enough.” His voice rose. “You are not leaving formation. You are not chasing ghosts.”

  I looked between him and Pyraeth. Pyraeth stood unnaturally still. No curiosity. No challenge.

  “Why won’t you ask him?” I said quietly.

  “Because I don’t need to,” Drexen said too fast. “Because I know my dragon.”

  That was not true. Every rider knew it.

  Obsidian leaned outward through the bond again.

  And then, faintly, not through him.

  Through me.

  I need you.

  The words barely formed. More ache than language.

  I sucked in a breath.

  Drexen was still talking, but I was not listening anymore.

  I need you.

  I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to Obsidian’s scales.

  “Go.”

  His wings snapped open, frost blasting outward as he surged past Pyraeth before anyone could stop him. Drexen shouted behind us, fury tearing loose, but the sound was already falling away.

  East pulled us hard.

  And I went.

  We flew faster than I knew was possible. I poured more power into the runes on my shins to keep from being blown off. The wind was so loud I could not even hear Obsidian breathing anymore. I reached into the bond again, trying to understand what was happening.

  Then I heard it through him.

  Death.

  My hand drifted to my spear as I released the rune holding it. Fear and urgency blasted through the bond. Heat surrounded me as we got closer. The bond between Obsidian and Vitalis grew stronger.

  Then I heard a cry from the woods and saw treetops smashed and broken as we soared over. When I looked down, I saw walls of earth and, in the middle, two dragons and their riders.

  My stomach dropped.

  Arrows began to fly into the air. A few hit Obsidian but did nothing.

  Then I saw red streaks cut through the sky.

  Not good.

  I reached into my saddle and grabbed the tube packed with colored powder. I activated the rune on it and threw it into the air. Seconds later, it exploded. Blood red smoke poured outward, covering the treetops. The signal would reach the tower. Men would be on their way.

  “Obsidian!” I shouted over the wind. “We need to slow them down and land to protect them.”

  He agreed without hesitation.

  We circled, avoiding arrows, especially the red streaks. I saw two groups of men circling the V formation below, closing in.

  “If you can lay a line of fire on your next pass, do it,” I said. “Slow one group while we take the other.”

  He did exactly that. A line of bright flame tore across the ground and trees. Some of the men caught fire, screaming.

  We landed in the only opening available. I ran toward Elara and Vitalis.

  The sight devastated me.

  Elara sat slumped atop Vitalis, barely upright. Lyra knelt beside Kethis, her arm broken and hanging uselessly.

  “Elara, how many of them are there?” I yelled.

  Vitalis’s voice pressed through the bond. “At least twenty. Your fire may have taken a few.”

  I saw the signs immediately.

  Rune fever.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll do what I can.” I moved to the side to take position. “Don’t use any more runes!”

  I reached into my pouch, embedding fire and lightning into stones.

  My heart raced, but I forced my breathing steady as I took position behind a tree.

  I heard whispers.

  “We should leave. There are three dragons now. We don’t have the men or means to take her.”

  An older voice answered, “We already have two dragons down. We have taken out dragons before. Kill them quickly before the tower sends men. Then we collect the reward from Serenya.”

  My father’s voice rose in my memory.

  Killing to protect is different than killing in anger. If you ever do, make sure it is to protect those you care about.

  Five of them.

  I activated the runes on my armor for strength, my boots for speed.

  I stepped out.

  The screaming began deeper in the woods. Obsidian.

  The five men froze.

  The bowman loosed first. The arrow sliced past my head.

  Three swordsmen rushed me.

  I met the first head on. Steel rang against my spear. I drove him back. Another came from my right. I slammed the spear butt into his chest. The third cut across my side. It stung.

  Pain sharpened everything.

  I thrust forward. My spear drove into his abdomen. He collapsed.

  I activated speed and created space.

  Another arrow grazed my shoulder.

  White pain exploded.

  Obsidian roared. He had been struck in the same place.

  The pain doubled.

  Two swordsmen rushed.

  I tore free the lightning rune.

  Too much power. Too fast.

  I forced my breathing steady.

  Protect, not punish.

  I released it.

  Lightning struck. The first man dropped instantly. The second turned too late.

  Silence.

  The bowman ran.

  The axe wielder charged.

  He hit me like a wall. We crashed to the ground. Earth magic locked me in place.

  The axe settled against my throat.

  I reached for a rune stone. He knocked it away.

  He leaned closer.

  His eyes were blown wide. Runes crawled across his skin. Too many. Full rune reaver.

  Through the bond, I felt pain again.

  The arrow.

  Clarity snapped.

  Pain rune.

  I grabbed his forearm and let the rune flare directly through my skin.

  He screamed.

  Backlash tore through him. His strength runes shattered.

  The weight lifted.

  He staggered back, swinging blindly.

  Vitalis moved.

  Her jaws closed around his head.

  It was over.

  I lay there for a moment, staring up through broken branches, my hand burning.

  Obsidian steadied me through the bond.

  I was still here.

  And so was Elara.

  Scene 5

  Ryker

  Another roar cuts through the sky. Not Obsidian’s. I look up just in time to see Drexen and his dragon pass overhead, wings beating hard as they bank toward the clearing beyond us. They land fast and heavy in the distance. I hear shouted orders, men yelling to fall back, panic threading through their voices. The fight breaks apart almost immediately after that. Three dragons is not something anyone sane stands against. For the first time since the ambush began, I let myself believe we are going to survive this.

  Then Vitalis makes a sound I have never heard before.

  It is not a roar or a warning. It is wrong. A frantic, broken rumble trapped in her chest, layered with a thin, keening whine that never fully escapes her throat. The sound raises the hair along my arms before I even turn. When I do, my breath leaves me all at once.

  Vitalis has lowered herself to the ground. Her body is curled inward, wings tucked tight as if shielding something precious. She tilts her head toward me, eyes too bright.

  Elara.

  She is slumped forward in the saddle, still bound in place, her body folded in on itself like the strength simply vanished mid breath. Her head hangs low, dark hair plastered to her face with sweat.

  My heart stops.

  “Elara.”

  I am already running before the word finishes leaving my mouth. Pain lances through my side with every step, but I barely register it. Vitalis lowers her wing without hesitation, and I grab the strap and haul myself up. I nearly lose my balance as I scramble toward Elara, hands shaking.

  “Elara. Hey. Can you hear me?”

  She does not answer.

  When my hand touches her forehead, heat pours into my palm. She is burning up. Sweat slicks her skin. Rune fever.

  Of course.

  “Come on,” I whisper. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”

  I fumble with the ties, fingers clumsy. The moment she sags against me, the reality of her weight hits. I brace and guide us down as Vitalis lowers herself further to help. Snow bites through my knees when we reach the ground.

  I shrug out of my jacket and lay it beneath her, keeping her from the ice.

  “Elara.” My voice cracks. “Please.”

  My mind races. Runes. Stones. Anything. But healing is not my gift. I know fire. Force. Destruction. Rune fever is imbalance. You do not burn it away.

  I have no idea how to fix this.

  I pull her into my lap, one arm around her shoulders, the other gripping her cloak.

  What do I do.

  The question pounds inside my skull.

  Then something inside me gives way.

  Everything slows. Noise fades. I bow my head, resting my forehead briefly against hers.

  “Rune Father. Please.”

  The words tear out of me raw.

  “I know I don’t have much faith,” I whisper. “But she does. She believes. Please. Use whatever I have. Just help her be alright.”

  Heat blooms along my chest.

  My rune flares.

  It startles me enough that I pull back, staring at my jacket as if it betrayed me.

  “Please.”

  I fold over her, holding her as tightly as I dare. My body shakes. I do not try to stop it.

  Then I feel her move.

  “Ryker.”

  Her voice is barely there, fragile and thin, but it cuts through me like lightning.

  I lift my head so fast it makes me dizzy. Her eyes are half open, unfocused but aware.

  “It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I’m here.”

  “I’ll be okay,” she murmurs. “I just overdid it with the runes.”

  Her eyes close again. Exhaustion claims her.

  She goes limp.

  I hold her there, tears falling into her hair, not caring who sees.

  The fight is over.

  And I have never felt so close to losing everything.

  Scene 6

  Elara

  I wake with a pain that feels too large for my head, as if my thoughts are pressing outward instead of staying where they belong. It is worse than any hangover I have ever endured, worse because this one carries fear with it.

  A cool cloth rests across my forehead. Water drips slowly down my temple and into my hair. I breathe in, shallow at first, then deeper. The bond stirs immediately.

  Vitalis knows.

  Her awareness turns toward me, warm and steady.

  My eyes adjust to the pale stone ceiling. We are home.

  Relief loosens something tight in my chest.

  Vitalis lowers her head until it rests against my chest, her warmth seeping through blankets and bone alike. I lift my hands with effort and cup the side of her snout.

  I am okay.

  Even as I think it, I feel the hollow echo of what I gave.

  Is everyone alright. Ryker. Kethis.

  Vitalis lifts her head slightly and nods once.

  They live.

  Movement catches at the edge of my vision. Obsidian uncoils from where he had been resting. Ryker sits in a chair nearby, wrapped in blankets. His face is drawn, exhaustion carved into him.

  I study him quietly.

  Obsidian huffs, a low sound that blankets Ryker in warm fog. He stirs and straightens slowly.

  I push myself upright.

  He sees me.

  The way his focus sharpens and then softens all at once makes something ache behind my ribs.

  “Ryker, are you okay?”

  I do not finish.

  He is there suddenly, arms wrapping around me with careful urgency.

  It is the warmest embrace I have ever known.

  For one suspended moment, my body waits for fear.

  It does not come.

  I do not pull away. I let myself settle into him.

  Eventually he loosens his hold and sits back.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks. “Can I get you some water?”

  I shake my head.

  “What time is it?” I ask. “How long has it been since the ambush?”

  “It’s the middle of the night,” he says. “You’ve been recovering for a full day. We got back last night.”

  “Is everyone okay? Lyra and Kethis?”

  He hesitates. “Yes. Because of you. Kethis healed and woke that evening. Lyra’s arm is broken, but the healers are working on it.” He pauses. “The council wants to know how you used that rune. No one recognized it.”

  “I’m not sure myself,” I say quietly. “It was like a memory surfaced. I saw it in the Vault. I aligned with it. I didn’t force it.”

  He nods as if that makes sense to him.

  “How are Vitalis and Obsidian?”

  “Vitalis won’t fly for a while,” he says. “Her wing membrane was torn. She’ll recover, but not if she pushes it.”

  I feel phantom ache in my arms.

  I shift slightly.

  “I thought I lost you,” he says.

  “I know.” I move closer. “I pushed too far healing Kethis. After I mounted Vitalis and watched you leave, my strength disappeared. Then I felt you through the bond. I felt you were in danger.”

  His eyes sharpen.

  “I heard your plea to the Rune Father,” I say softly. “And I felt your tears.”

  He closes his eyes briefly.

  “My father used to pray with me,” he says. “Every night. Nothing elaborate. He said the Rune Father listened either way.”

  “When he died,” he continues quietly, “I stopped believing anyone was on the other side of that silence.”

  “I heard one word,” I say. “During the battle.”

  He looks at me.

  “Please.”

  His breath stills.

  “That wasn’t just me,” he says slowly.

  “No,” I whisper.

  “He’s been asking you that for a long time,” I say. “Hasn’t he?”

  He exhales unsteadily. “I thought it was weakness. I didn’t realize he was asking me to meet him where I already was.”

  Silence settles between us, not empty.

  After a while, I speak again.

  “Did we learn who those men were? Why they ambushed us?”

  He does not answer immediately.

  “Drexen and the others don’t know,” he says at last.

  “But you do.”

  “Yes.”

  I wait.

  “They weren’t there for patrol routes,” he says. “They were waiting.”

  “For what?”

  He does not look away.

  “For you.”