But being in the sky this way carried no triumph. Not when flight came stolen, borrowed on another’s strength.
With Aesar steady and neither of them fighting for dominance, Lykor rolled their shoulders and snatched at their Well, tearing open a portal to the south. Aesar had flown to the rangers’ scouting line a few days prior, close enough to glimpse the mountains of the Dreadspire Range.
Trella sliced through the rift in a single wingbeat. On the other side, the desert gave way to stone, the horizon rupturing in black peaks leading into the Crackling Maw.
The instant they broke through, a telepathic link slammed into place. Lykor flinched as the breach tore through his skull, jaw locking to brace against the violation he could never dislodge.
Another presence slid into his thoughts, his defenses long since stripped. The king had seen to that, leaving his mind carved open for command.
“I’ll handle it,”Aesar said, already moving to intercept.
“IT’S FINE,”Lykor ground out.“I DON’T WANT TO FUCK AROUND RELAYING MESSAGES. JUST LET YOUR BROTHER TALK TO US BOTH.”
“As you wish,”Aesar murmured, retreating.
“You’re late,”came Vesryn’s voice, bludgeoning straight into their thoughts. No finesse. No tact. Just brute mental force. Knicking down the door where Kal would’ve slipped sideways, bypassing Lykor completely to whisper straight to Aesar.
Lykor turned, glaring as the prince descended in a wide arc on Naru. The dracovae’s scales reflected the sun like volcanic glass, feathered wings cutting against the vast blue. Fully shifted in his druid form, Vesryn leaned low in the saddle as Naru banked.
“YOU’RE AWARE I HAVE OTHER RESPONSIBILITIES ASIDE FROM GALLIVANTING AROUND THE REALMS,”Lykor replied flatly.
“But here you are,”Vesryn drawled,“brooding a mile up while we begin the first perimeter sweep.”
“AND EVEN AT THIS HEIGHT,”Lykor shot back,“I’M STILL NOT SPARED YOUR FLAPPING TONGUE.”
“Then fly faster.”
Lykor gritted his fangs as Aesar shifted forward on Trella before he could add more. Trella surged forward, her body heaving with each wingbeat. She slid into formation beside Naru, their strokes rolling in tandem, shadows sweeping across the broken earth below.
Lykor squinted against the sun as the prince angled toward Zaeryn, his flight captain. She rode a steady current at the head of the rangers’ formation, her chestnut dracovae cutting clean lines through the sky. Vesryn dipped Naru lower to join her, folding into the flight of riders stitched across the horizon.
Tugging at the pulse behind his eyes, Lykor sharpened his dragonsight, catching the shimmer where the mountains split the sky. The Dreadspire Range ruptured from the earth in jagged splinters, peaks clawing skyward until the far eastern ridges broke apart and spilled into the ocean.
They’d been scouting out of the desert for days, portal jumping forward with every dawn, charting lands on Kaedryn’s maps—centuries outdated by the scars of the Great War. And now at last, the edge of the Crackling Maw loomed, lightning fissuring above the peaks. Somewhere beyond those storm-cracked fangs, Skylash waited, bound in her crystal chains.
Or so Cinderax claimed.
They weren’t here to breach her prison today. Not until their forces could fly without falling. Not until someone strong enough could hold the sky—and its lightning—back.
Lykor refused to dwell on whose wings would bear that burden.
Something darted past Trella’s flank, a flicker in the corner of Lykor’s vision. She trilled low, long neck curling to glance behind.
Lykor stiffened and turned with her—just in time to see a shape drop onto her croup, wings folding, eyes gleaming.
Cinderax.
The dragon shook out his scales and padded closer, each step winding in a sinuous coil. He fixed Lykor with a look so brazen it might’ve been ancestral judgment—if judgment came in pint-sized flames.
Narrowing his gaze, Lykor asked, “Any insight about what we’ll face ahead?”
The wind shifted, hitching Trella’s left pinion. She raked the draft, feathers flaring to scrape the sky. The saddle lurched and Aesar corrected their weight—continuing to exchange thoughts with Vesryn—but the twist shot pain down Lykor’s spine to his knees.
He glared over his shoulder at the dragon. “And sit somewhere else. I’m not dislocating my back to speak with a pocket-sized lizard.”
Cinderax’s eyes pinned to slits. Then he puffed his chest and opened his jaws.
Lykor had a heartbeat to react before the fire hit.
