Though he continues to hold Mathilde, Ström is iron-cold as he surveys what’s left of his family’s stronghold, and his kin. One last thought comes to me:I wasn’t there to stop this. I wasn’t here to protect them. Before he heaves all his power into his iron wall now.
Shutting me the fuck out.
Our entire Bloodbond is banished, as Ström rejects us. Our love and comfort are not available to him now, as he glances at Bjorn—my First Drake growling in a tense fury as he’s being talked down by Svanhild and Olander.
Because it was Bjorn’s father who did this, who not only killed the Eriksson Jarl but also led this devastation against the Eriksson clan. Bjorn is more than aware of that, as he blisters with a rage so cold now, it feels almost like Bone Magic as I step to him next.
Deeply worried about my first two drakes.
But though Bjorn turns, glancing at me as he argues with his kin, he bristles, not letting me near him with his burning golden power. He heaves up a similar wall as Ström; just like my Second Drake, Bjorn shuts me and the rest of our Bloodbond out from helping him with what he’s feeling, as his tense argument with Svanhild and Olander rages on.
I know they’re trying to talk him out of going balls-out and making a terrible mistake, flying off after his father to kill him. Svanhild gives me a look that tells me she’s managing it, as she juts her chin at me to head back to my other drakes.
Setting my teeth and growling, I war deep within, as I feel both my First and Second Drakes cut themselves off from our bond. As both Bjorn and Ström war against me, despite their utterly exhausted state, I feel like our Bloodbond is being torn apart by everything we just experienced.
Right to our core.
“Come on.” Mikkel’s voice is tense as he touches my elbow. “Baldur’s got a portal open. We’re ushering everyone through, away from this smoke, to a True Knights stronghold. Apparently, someplace they’ve stockpiled supplies in case of emergency, just like this.”
“Where?” I turn, blinking in surprise that I didn’t even feel Baldur step away, much less use his magic to open a portal. But there he is at the edge of the cliffs, working so hard to hold a small portal open with his exhausted power that he’s already shaking with strain, as Lærke heaves exhausted Old Palace warriors up, getting them through it.
Mikka Halsbrand holds the portal with Baldur, blending her own unique light-shifting magic with his, somehow, to keep it open. Beautiful but entirely wild gardens of flowers fill the other side of the portal. Blasted ruins dominate the space; ancient and almost Elvish, I recognize the haunted reaches of the Hollows of the Damned at the ancient city once called Harnakje.
As injured dragons stumble through to the other side, I know it’s a place where we’ll be safe. A spot that’s never visited, and rumored to be haunted because of the massive battle that once took place there, it’s deep in Eriksson territory and well away from the Old Palace.
The air over there is free of the fell taint that wafts everywhere now, coating us in acrid black ash. With one last growl of immense frustration at my First and Second Drakes, I help Mikkel and Lærke get everyone through.
But my own inner fury fills me as I see how very few Eriksson clan dragons are left. A couple hundred, there aren’t a lot of souls to save, as we make short work of getting everyone through.
As we finish, I see only Ström now, standing on the flying plaza with Mormor Annika and Mathilde, talking with them, tense and quiet. Bjorn still furiously argues with Svanhild and Olander. As Mathilde glances around to note they’re the only ones left, I see her tug Ström’s hand.
But I also see him resist, him and Bjorn both, as their families urge them to cross through the portal into the Hollows of the Damned. As both my mates fight coming with us, stubborn to the very blood and bones that make them, I know it’s time.
I leave Baldur to hold the portal with Mikka, and Mikkel and Lærke to get everyone settled, and head back to Ström and Bjorn. Flooding a massive surge of my Bloodwalker power into them both now, I drain energy from them so hard that they each grunt and hit the stones with one knee.
I shatter their solitary walls with my Bloodwalker magic, flooding a towering wave of love into them from my deepest heart of hearts. It’s not my darkest magic in this hour of our brokenness, but my brightest that floods me, as I hold out a hand to each of them now.
Opening my palms.
“It’s time to go. Come with me. Don’t stay here alone,” I tell them both quietly, as I wait with my hands out to each of them. I let my fullest Bloodwalker magic pour into my drakes, complete, as both my inner dragons plea for my drakes to come with me now, and no longer be alone.
Bjorn and Ström are on their knees as I offer them my deepest strength, to help them get back up from their fall into darkness. I pour my power into their blood and bones, offering everything of myself as a tremendous compassion sweeps me for their plight.
I don’t take from my drakes now—I give my all to let them know they’re loved, as startled looks take me from each of them. No longer raging, no longer buried under a mountain of wrath, they’re seeing menow as I continue to pour my everything into each of them, until I’m seeing spots.
Because I’m giving them everything I’ve got left. Though I feel my knees shake now, my heartbeats frantic at my oncoming death from giving away every last bit of my exhausted magic like this, I continue to give it.
As something so wild and potent, so magical and beautiful floods me now in a compassionate love, I feel it fill my drakes. I’m not there anymore, however, as I give my last; my vision flashes out, the endless drone of the universe fills my ears as I feel my heart thump its last.
But I am happy as I fall, having given my drakes all the love they never knew a mate could give, in their darkest hour.
And my last.
15
RIFT
It’s not really my final hour as I wake in bed, lying upon a thick wool mattress with a fluffy white duvet covering me, my head in soft pillows. Though I’m cozy, my entire body feels like I have the worst hangover ever, as my head swims in a ten-day ache.
