With Zhoric between my talons, my first thought is of Kalixta, her babies.The nursery.
I jolt myself out of my stupor and hurl through the air, following the steadily gaining trajectory of Dyeus’s downward spiral. I’m dizzied as the land moves in one direction beneath me and I in another. Anything unsecured flutters up and fills the sky with debris, joining the draconem escaping the impending fall. I dodge both as I speed towards the nursery.
I grasp onto one of ledges leading into the nursery with my forelegs, my rear still holding Zhoric. Tucking my wings in tight, I scrabble to get through the window and when I land ungracefully on the other side, there are four dragons already there, turned to me, teeth bared. I recognize Thrace first.
Next to him is another dragon. It’s not the identical gray scales to mine or the color of her eyes, or the unfamiliar lavendar silk of her mane that I recognize. I know her on instinct alone.Kalixta.
Kaisa. Help.
I don’t waste another moment. Leaving Zhoric’s prone form by the window, I move through the space and scoop as many children into my claws as I can.
What happened?Thrace growls, wrestling some of the older tots in his arms, his gaze set on Zhoric.
I don’t answer. I can’t. I don’t know what I’ve done.
Dyeus lurches again, in time with the sickening crack of a collision somewhere far off. It knocks all of us except Thrace to our bellies.
We need to go,he roars.
I take Zhoric in my taloned foot and we all vault out ofthe window, rising up as Dyeus falls.
I watch the land plummet. It races away, yet it seems as if it’s sliding through sand instead of through thin air. Thrace guides us away from Dyeus, moment’s away from crashing to the ground, and behind the safety of a wide expanse of rock monuments. As gently as I can, I put the three children I carried down on the ground, their cries washed out as the first of Dyeus’s islands smashes to the earth, thundering in my ears.
Oh gods.Bile fills my mouth. So many people. So many women who didn’t know they could shift. Kalixta did though. And whoever helped us with the babies. Maybe they made it. Maybe—
My gaze locks onto Kalixta’s. She looks at me in horror.What did you do?
My nostrils release a steam of air.I freed us.
Kalixta turns to Thrace, her bonded.
His eyes bore into me.
Go to Nevoba,I plead him.Help them. Please.
Where will you go?Thrace asks.
Back to the Realm,I answer.
With him?He looks at Zhoric.
If I go with you, the elites will follow. It’s safer if I take him with me.
Thrace growls. He doesn’t like it. Why would he? He’s spent years protecting Zhoric and I’m the one who just put him at the greatest risk.
I’ve got him,I promise. I couldn’t let harm come to him right now even if I tried. Not until I remove the bond.
Thrace seems to know this, to sense the change in Zhoric, if not myself.Then we’ll separate. For now.
I swivel to catch sight of Kalixta. She says nothing, but I know it’s because she has too much she wishes to say. I have too much to answer for.I’ll see you again.
She huffs hot air from her nostrils and bows her head.
Then I surge upwards, Zhoric still in my grip. I tear through the air, but stay low to the ground, under cover of the dust kicked up from Dyeus’s fall and from the recent storm. I can’t stop the tide of panic at the chaosI’ve unleashed.What have I done? What have I done?I don’t notice the draconem until it barrels into my side. I grunt, hitting the ground, spraying more dust into the air. I tuck Zhoric close to my body and launch back into the sky. It’s easier now, since I don’t have to fight to remain in this form, but I need more energy. If they keep coming for me like this, I need more. And, just as Ozias said, the moment I will it, I feel it happen. I suck energy from the passing storm into me. From the draconem flying too close. From the power of Dyeus’s fall. Anywhere and everywhere, I take. I wonder how much more I can fit inside me, but I don’t stop.
I’m so consumed with calling energy into me that I miss when another draconem manages to get close enough to sideswipe me. I lose my hold on Zhoric. I roar and twist, my teeth catching a draconem’s throat. I jerk my head and rip it out. The draconem’s body twists and plummets into the swirling dust below.
Then, like a rope tied around my soul, I feel a tug towards Zhoric and dive for his falling form. I pitch my body at a sharper angle and dart under him, and he lands on my back, cradled in the soft waves of my mane moments before hitting the ground.
