“She doesn’t need me,” he said, but it didn’t sound convincing. “She has Vaelen, Kieran, and the council.”
She has none who understands her storm.The dragon lowered his head until his breath rolled over Thorne’s skin, hot and heavy.When the storm calls, fire must answer, or the world drowns.
Thorne looked up at the massive creature that had once belonged to legends. “You really think the world’s going to drown?”
I think the Veil will not hold,Vornokh said simply.And when it breaks, you will have to choose whether to save her or yourself.
The words hung in the cold night, unyielding. For a long moment, neither moved. Then Thorne looked toward the eastern spires where light burned in one narrow window at the archives. He didn’t need the bond to know she was there. Awake. Fighting and trying to contain something that refused to be contained.
Thorne could feel the storm in her even from here, the faint tremor beneath his ribs, the rhythm of her breath matching his. He turned away from the light before it could undo him.
“I’m ready for deployment,” he muttered. “If Kaen’s behind what’s stirring at the southern border, I want eyes on it.”
Vornokh’s growl rolled through the dark like distant thunder.And if your storm follows you?
Thorne’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Then Gods help me. I’ll burn the world down before I let it take her.”
The dragon’s eyes gleamed gold in the half-light.Then it begins again.
Chapter
Twenty
Dusk bled over the cliffs in threads of gold, the last light cutting the sky like a blade’s edge, far above the spires of the Asgar Training Academy. A narrow path wound through the stone, lonely, wind-scoured, and ancient. Few cadets came this far. Fewer still returned after dark.
Thaelyn climbed in silence. The wind bit sharply at her cheeks, tearing through the ache in her ribs where Thorne had cracked bone days ago. She could still feel the break when she breathed too deeply. She walked anyway. The air here felt different, honest, almost cruel. It stripped her down to what she was without armor, without title, without certainty.
Beside her, Thorne said nothing. He never did when words weren’t necessary. His presence was steady and infuriatingly calm.
At the top of the ridge, the trail opened wide. Skyhold Roost spread before them, a ledge of stone carved from the cliff, jutting into open air. No torches, no guards. Only wind, old and waiting. The horizon stretched endlessly. At the edge, waited a dragon. Nyxariel.
Nyxariel sat still as a mountain, wings furled tight, scales gleaming faintly like stormlight beneath glass. The runes that traced her flanks pulsed with a heartbeat older than language. Her eyes, white and unblinking, watched the horizon as if she could see time itself unravel.
“Nyxariel hasn’t moved since the storm,” Thorne murmured.
“Is she angry?” Thaelyn asked. Her voice came out quieter than she intended.
“No,” he said. “She’s waiting.”
For what, Thaelyn didn’t ask. She already knew.
The wind rose as they stepped closer. The scent of rain lingered, air and earth, like the world just before lightning struck.
Nyxariel turned her head. The motion was slow, deliberate. Her gaze landed on Thaelyn, and every part of her stilled. The dragon’s eyes glowed brighter, opalite and infinite.
Thaelyn’s chest tightened. She’d seen dragons before, but never like this. Never one that felt like it was looking through her instead of at her.
“She’s beautiful,” she whispered.
Thorne stopped a few paces behind her, arms crossed, unreadable. “Go on,” he said. “She’s waiting for you.”
Thaelyn swallowed hard, her boots scraping against loose gravel as she stepped forward. Her pulse hammered in her ears. The air thickened until breathing felt like wading through water. Then Nyxariel lowered her head, massive, deliberate, until her brow hovered just above the ground. The runes along her neck flared once. Recognition.
Stormborn.
The voice wasn’t heard. It struck through her mind like thunder. It didn’t make a sound. It was known. Thaelyn’s breath hitched. “I didn’t mean to call you,” she whispered. “I didn’t even know how.”
You did not call with words,the voice answered, quiet but vast.You called with what was broken and what refused to break.
