Chapter 1
Mara
The helicopter blades chop through mountain air like a blender set to “apocalypse,” and I’m already questioning every decision that led me here.
“Okay, so…” I angle my phone toward the window, framing Ember’s profile against the ridiculously gorgeous expanse of snow-capped peaks. “Theory time. Mountains this pristine? Untouched wilderness spanning literal centuries? Classic cover-up territory.”
Ember doesn’t turn from the glass, but her lips twitch. “Cover-up for what, exactly?”
“Everything.” I zoom in on a particularly jagged ridge. “Ancient civilizations. Secret government bunkers. Bigfoot retirement communities.” I pause for effect. “Dragon lairs.”
The truth is, my mouth runs when I’m nervous, and right now I’m operating at approximately seventy-three percent terror beneath this carefully constructed veneer of cool. Flying over theRomanian wilderness in a metal death trap piloted by an actual dragon shifter to investigate asupernatural battle sitewasn’t exactly on my vision board for this year.
But here we are.
I shift the camera to catch the landscape below. Endless forest, valleys carved deep enough to swallow cities, cliffs that drop into shadow. My TikTok followers would lose their minds over this footage. If I survive to post it.
When.When I survive. Of course I’ll survive. Luke knows what he’s doing.
“God, it really is beautiful up here,” I say, panning across the golden ridges. The light’s perfect, slicing through clouds in those dramatic shafts that make everything look like a movie poster. “If ever there was an Instagram moment, this is it. Turn to the side, Ember. I want to get a shot of your profile against that backdrop.”
Luke’s voice crackles through my headset, dry as old bones. “Mara, keep the commentary to a minimum. I need to focus.”
“Copy that, Captain Killjoy.” I don’t stop filming.
He could do this in his sleep; I’ve seen him fly. But whatever. Let him have his grumpy pilot moment.
I zoom in on Ember’s face, catching the wonder written across her features. She’s still pressed to the window like a kid on a road trip, platinum hair catching the light.
“Turn toward me,” I tell her. “VeryNational Geographic meets supernatural mystery.”
She humors me, shifting slightly. I snap a few stills, already mentally drafting captions.
Luke banks the helicopter left, following some invisible path only he can see. The motion sends my stomach lurching. I swallow hard, forcing my attention back to filming because if I think too hard about the fact that we’re hunting for evidenceof adragon battle—actual dragons fighting in the actual sky—I might start hyperventilating.
The terrain below is raw and unforgiving. Sheer cliffs, dense forest, ravines that suck in light. The kind of landscape where something scaled and massive could hide for centuries.
Which is, you know, exactly what we’re looking for.
You love this, I remind myself.You’ve been waiting your whole life to be right about this stuff.
Twenty minutes in, something changes.
The helicopter jolts. Not a gentle bump; a full-body wobble that sends my phone smacking into the window.
I retrieve it, checking for cracks. Screen’s fine. My nerves? Shattered.
We level out, but something feels wrong. The vibration through the frame isn’t steady anymore.
The instruments flicker.
I see it from where I’m sitting… the console lights blinking once, twice.
“Luke?” Ember’s voice carries an edge I’ve never heard before.
“I feel it.” His tone stays level, but his shoulders tense. “Could be magnetic interference. This region has irregular fields.”
Interference.Right. Because that’s totally normal and not at all terrifying.
