Drawing to a halt beneath the great archway, Lykor pinned his glare on that slithering viper Kaedryn and asked, “Why are we waiting here when there’s a dragon to free?”
“Free?” Kaedryn’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Cinderax is imprisoned by ancient Aelfyn magic. How—”
Lykor ripped the Heart from his pocket, brandishing it in her face as the relic blazed in his knuckles. “You ransacked our supplies and didn’t realize that we had the fuckingkey?”
Kaedryn blinked, the claws on her wing tips seizing. She glanced first at the other guild masters, who began murmuringamongst themselves, and then at Serenna—searching for an explanation.
Lykor scoffed. So the girl hadn’t bared all of their secrets to these lizards. Unexpected.
“We mistook your crystal for a relic akin to the Starshards,” Kaedryn said cautiously. “Our records speak of the Heart of Stars’ power…but not their form. Without starlight of our own to ignite them, they remain indistinguishable from any other gem.”
Kaedryn’s wings quivered as she extended her arm, talons reaching for the artifact. Lykor tightened his grip, yanking the Heart out of her reach.
“We will free your dragon,” he bit out, each word a barely-leashed snarl. How, he had no idea. “But I want something in return.”
Kaedryn bristled, the obsidian scales lining her cheeks catching the sun as she drew herself up. “You dare deny Cinderax his freedom?”
Lykor sneered as she towered over him. “I want assurance that your beast won’t incinerate us the moment he rouses.” He stepped closer, crowding her space. “Swear it,” he hissed. “The dragon fights for us. Your people fight for us.” The other guild masters pressed closer, but Lykor sliced them back with his gaze, his shadows rearing up. “The king’s forces are already on the hunt for the others. This war is inescapable. And you won’t be able to stand alone.”
Kaedryn tore her stare away from the Heart and gestured to Serenna. “The scalebound will serve the children of earth and starlight.” Her eyes flared, a firestorm swirling as she tilted her chin. “If this key truly frees Cinderax, he will decide forhimselfwhat follows.”
Lykor choked back his retort and gave a curt nod. If the beast was going to be temperamental, this was the best he could hope for.
Kaedryn swept a hand toward the archway, motioning them through.
Spine tingling as darkness gaped before him, Lykor lingered and stared out over the lake, unseeing. Boots scraped past him as the others and the guild masters descended into the tunnel.
Lykor’s shoulders twitched as Jassyn drew closer. His grip tightened around the Heart of Stars, but he kept his focus riveted ahead, jaw clenched so tightly his teeth creaked.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jassyn’s mouth parting, drawing a breath to speak. But the moment slipped away, devoured by silence, and Jassyn stepped past him without a word.
Lykor exhaled slowly, falling in behind everyone else. The sandstone path sloped downward and a damp chill seeped into his skin—a welcome reprieve from the desert sun. The tunnel constricted, a mineral tang thick in the air as he passed sputtering torches.
Lykor ruthlessly steered his thoughts to what lay below, wondering how the druids had moved a dragon under a lake—especially through a passage barely wide enough to accommodate their own wings.
Since you weren’t paying attention,Aesar drawled, resurfacing in their mindspace with his unwanted commentary.Kaedryn said her ancestors drained a lake in the Wastes to create this one. Obviously, they built a chamber first to cradle the beast beneath the water.
Lykor rolled his eyes to the ceiling, where rivulets of moisture snaked through fissures.AND WHY DID THEY THINK ENTOMBING A DRAGON WAS WISE?
It’s defensible.Aesar shrugged, but Lykor sensed his curiosity boiling over.And they can just as easily empty the lake to free it. I’ll spare you the details of their canal systems since you wouldn’t listen anyway.
Ahead, the passage abruptly opened to a vast atrium. Unexpected light spilled down, unveiling a realm suspended between water, glass, and stone. Translucent walls stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, channeling shafts of sunlight. The fractured brightness rippled across towering pillars, each carved with dragons spewing fire mid-flight.
Liquid beams of light streamed dozens of feet through the water, scattering over darting fish, their silver scales flashing like falling stars. Wispy lake plants swayed with the current, ushering in an otherworldly calm.
Lykor’s heartbeat thundered through his skin as he swept his gaze over the chamber—then stumbled.
At its center, raised upon a dais, lay an unmistakable creature.
A dragon.
Coiled in stillness, a glassy prison identical to the Heart of Stars encased Cinderax entirely. His snout rested between his claws, tail looped in tight, wings folded close—trapped in an eternal slumber.
Lykor’s pulse roared in his ears, drowning out whatever the others were saying. He stared at the dragon, the cruel reality striking like a dagger between his ribs.
Cinderax was absurdly small—no larger than a fucking cat.
Lykor blinked rapidly, willing the watery light to distort, to stretch, to twist into some trick of perspective.
