He stopped dead when he saw the complete Mareki’s Key laid out before him. Slowly, he wiped a hand across his tired face and let out a long breath. Relief softened the harsh lines of his expression as his gaze moved from the Key to Fallon, then to Shayde.
“And this is the completed Key of the Mareki?” His voice was low and gravelly.
“Yes,” I answered, meeting his eyes. “The journals were written by a girl named Kiye.” I paused, thinking back. “A princess, really. In her first entry, she mentioned being given three matching tomes by a friend. We’re certain the piece Fallon and Shayde found is the final one.”
“Did you retrieve any intel on their movement plans to Mageia?” Arrow asked, his voice sharp.
Fallon swallowed, but her shoulders stayed squared, her spine rigid against the chair. “No. But we did witness Cora Reyes and Finian Yearwood hosting an execution at their annual masquerade. They hung two men of the Barren Watch from the outer walls of their castle. Then the northern dragons were set loose on them.”
“Finian?” I asked Fallon privately.
Her eyes snapped to mine, sharp and expectant, waiting for me to finish the thought. My blood went cold. Memory dragged me back to that mountain peak with the Grim.
“The elemental storm erupted right on schedule, and Finian’s hawk was able to get close enough to Lakota to drop the oblivion dust into his nostrils. Their bond snapped instantly, and Lakota flew away without any knowledge or recollection of why he was there.”
Lakota trilled overhead. His wings had been beating the air above the war room since the moment we entered. Anger seared through our bond, crashing into me like a wave. Professor Yearwood—Finian—hadn’t only been a Tyrian spy hidden in Mageia. He’d been working with the Grim for years. It was Finian, an earth elemental, who wielded his hawk to deliver the oblivion dust into Lakota’s lungs—erasing his memories, shattering his bond with my mother.
But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that magic demands balance. And in the same breath that Lakota lost everything tied to her, he gained something else. A tether to me.
“The Hollow’s forces will march in two days’ time.” Arrow’s voice cut through my thoughts like a blade. “The Glade’s will meet us there. We need the remaining two tomes unlocked, and this battle will serve as the perfect distraction for the two of you to accomplish it. The map will go into General Wylder’s possession. Salvitto—you’ll see to it.”
Nash inclined his head in agreement, and then we were dismissed.
Chapter 53
Two nights. We had two nights before we marched as a military force to Mageia. Two nights to ready ourselves for battle against Tyria’s army.
Againsther.
The past months had gone by in a relentless blur. It felt like my life only truly began the day I walked into that Great Hall for initiation. So much had changed.Ihad changed. I was no longer the weak, pitiful girl from Caydean. No longer the girl who came from nothing.
My knees were no longer pressed into the dirt, watching my home burn to the ground. My wrists weren’t bound in ropes. My life wasn’t shackled in iron anymore.
Andsheno longer held power over me.
Fallon led us up and around the mountains until we reached a three-story structure of thick wooden panels and metal sheeting, built directly into a peak. Stairs wrapped and twisted around it on the outside decks, connecting each level. Every floor had its owndeck, with the second boasting two. Warm light shone through the windows, casting silhouettes of villagers moving inside.
High above, Lakota soared, stretching his wings before settling for the night. Other unfamiliar dragons drifted in from the west, likely gathering to prepare for the coming journey.
As we drew closer, I spotted mountain lions as large as River lounging regally at the base of the stairs. Each wore a similar leather harness, suggesting they belonged to earth elementals like Fallon and River.
River hadn’t left Fallon’s side since they returned from Tyria—until she noticed one of those mountain lions on the first-level deck. She trotted up the steps eagerly. Their tails flicked in sync, their movements playful like a puppy greeting a kitten. The two of them disappeared together around the corner of the deck.
The group of us trekked up the steep wooden steps. An old sign swayed above the archway with the wordRyfthouseetched into it. The lettering was worn from years of wind and weather. Music drifted out through the cracks in the wood.
Fallon didn’t wait. She pushed through the door without holding it open, striding straight toward the bar in the far-right corner. It was stationed in front of wide-open windows that overlooked the sweeping drop of the mountain below.
“What is this, and why are we just now being introduced to it?” Davis asked, turning in a slow circle as he took in the interior.
The Ryfthouse mirrored the rugged elegance of the Hollow itself—thick timber beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and a stone hearth flickered on the far wall. Mismatched lanterns and wrought-iron sconces bathed the room in a warm amber glow. A second set of stairs spiraled up from the middle of the space.
“It’s the Hollow’s version of a tavern,” Rhodes said beside me.
We scattered into the crowd of Hollow Summit’s elementals. Rhodes laced his fingers through mine and led me up two more flights of stairs until we reached the top level, which was quieter. Another bar waited in the corner. A bartender stood drying steins behind the counter while an overly friendly woman leaned across the bar, giggling at something he said.
Rhodes pushed open the doors to the third-level deck, and the view took my breath away.
The moon was full tonight, its silver light blanketing the peaks in a haunting glow. Dragons soared through the air—some slow and graceful, others with urgency in their wings. Though the sun had long since dipped behind the ridgeline, it still left a faint trace of gold on the mountains, a whisper of its warmth lingering in the higher air. With the shift in season, even the snow-tipped peaks were beginning to thaw.
