She nods once, pushing to her feet despite the way her hands shake. Shock’s setting in—delayed reaction to trauma—but she’s fighting through it.
I’ve seen dragons with more experience handle disasters worse.
We move through forest that feels wrong. Too quiet. Birds should be calling, insects humming. Instead, there’s only wind through high branches and the distant sound of our transport still burning.
Ember stays on my heels, matching my pace without question. She doesn’t ask why I avoid game trails or why I keep us to granite outcroppings where we leave minimal tracks. She just watches and follows suit.
Smart.
Another twenty minutes in, she stumbles. Gives a sharp cry.
I catch her elbow before she goes down, reflex faster than thought. Her skin burns through the torn sleeve, dragon-heat simmering just beneath the surface. Our eyes meet.
She doesn’t pull away.
“Sorry.” Her voice roughens. “Ankle turned.”
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
I believe her. She’s got that look; chin set, eyes fierce. The same expression I’ve seen on warriors who’d crawl through hell before showing weakness.
Except she’s not a veteran. She’s barely twenty-one.
And she just watched her friend die.
Fuck. You can’t be pitying her now.
But I’m not inhuman. At least, not all of the time.
“Five minutes.” I release her arm, putting careful distance between us. “Hydrate.”
She sinks onto a moss-covered boulder, pulls her canteen. I scan our perimeter while she drinks; no movement beyond windin the trees, no sounds except our breathing and the forest settling around us.
But something feels off. The air tastes metallic. Like ozone before a lightning strike.
“Luke.” Ember caps her canteen. “Why didn’t they finish us?”
I turn. “What?”
“The interference that took us down disabled us without destroying us outright. If whatever’s out here wanted us dead, we’d be dead.”
She’s thinking practically despite the trauma. Good.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” I say. “The crash should have taken us out. We survived by sheer luck.”
“But wedidsurvive.”
“Yes.” I can’t argue the point.
“And nothing came back to finish the job.”
“Not yet,” I mutter.
“But it could have.” She’s determined. “And it didn’t. So what does it want?”
That’s the question, isn’t it? I consider the possibilities. The ritual chamber they’d tried to activate. The ancient power Ember had sensed in her visions. The strange interference that stripped my dragon strength right when I needed it most.
