I growl as I sense more dragons from Dyeus joining the hunt for me. Or for Zhoric. Perhaps both of us. I could steal their power and take it into me. But I don’t want it. I simply want them gone. I release my hold on the power I gathered and stole from the world around me. I let it blow out of me like a raging tempest, and the dragons of Dyeus closest on my tail shoot backwards, tumbling through the sky, tangling with others following our trajectory.
Behind me, the sky is a riot of draconem. A swarm of angry bees against a red backdrop. They know as well as the Realm what’s happened and they will fight with all their teeth to take back what I’ve reclaimed. But they’re too far behind to catch me now.
I loosen Zhoric’s power from the depths of my well. I feel movement as it leeches out of me back into him. His head lulls side to side, groaning.
The sun hasn’t moved any farther down the horizon, like we’re stuck in a permanent twilight, and the haze has grown thicker. I tell myself I’m imagining it—that the sun has moved, and everything else that’s happened since I bonded with Zhoric and released the god scale took no time at all. It’s a pretty lie that covers a brutal reality—something is happening. Something I can’t begin to understand, and can only hope someone else does.
Zhoric’s moving more now, his body adjusting against my back, maneuvering around until he’s fully seated across my neck. His chest lays heavy against the back of my head. His hold on my mane is tight, reminiscent of when he held me back from his neck. My ribcage heaves to catch my breath. So much energy. In and out so quickly. I feel dizzied and drained.
Zhoric leans forward, close to my ear so the roaring wind doesn’t take a single word from his lips. “What have you done?” His voice is low, deadly. My stomach churns, unease taking root.
What I had to.
His anger, his anguish, rolls off him in waves, drenching me, pulling me down. “Ozias is a gods damned fool to have used you like this.”
Again, my insides twist and I’m half afraid I’m going to lose the hold on my shift.
Zhoric is still leaning forward, speaking into my high-pointed ear, though he could have whispered the words from a mile away and I still would have heard. “And because of it, you’ve doomed us.”
My heart stutters and I bank, losing my focus, my gaze going back to the sun that still hasn’t moved.What do you mean?
Zhoric is silent. The grip he has on my mane tightens.
Zhoric,I snarl.What have I done?The words are a toll in my head, but I’m sure he hears them ringing in his as surely as my own.
“All those years…I was holding back the gods. And now they’ll come to kill us all.”
I lose hold of my shift.
Back in my human body, Zhoric and I tangle together. He wraps one arm around my shoulders, the other scooping me up behind the knees. “Hold on,” he says into my ear, and then he’s shifting, soaring towards the Realm.
Somewhere in the shift, I end up sitting astride his neck in the soft folds of his cloud-wisp mane. My fists grip his mane so tight they ache. I have nothing to say. I know of Zhoric’s nightly struggles and it’s easy now to imagine that’s what he was doing in front of the gods eyes. I saw for myself how it changed each night he tended to it. And somehow, through the bond, or my draconem instincts, I know what he says is true. I can feel it as sure as I can feel my dragon waiting inside me or some ancient connection to the gods stirring to life within me. My jaw clenches, staving off the urge to scream. I keep my focus trained on the horizon, on the sun that has refused to move, letting it burn my eyes. The haze has grown thicker, making the sky look on fire, making the cardinal moon a wide, unseeing eye in the distance. An omen. Or worse.
As we near the Realm, the mists that normally shroud the towering forest kingdom are gone, and the full glory of the Realm is visible, from the tallest-reaching tree of the Alcazar, to the village that sprawls across the deep brown earth. Surrounded by the dusty Sere, on and on until the mountains beyond. It’s impossible, like a mirage on a brutally hot day.
Zhoric glides into the main atrium of the Alcazar, at the same time a painfully familiar dragon slips in from the other direction. Zhoric shifts just before he lands and I’m in his arms again, and Ozias is standing in front of us, hands curled at his sides, waiting.
Zhoric doesn’t put me down. I’m not entirely sure I can hold myself up yet.
Ozias’s eyes flit between us, before landing firmly on me. “You did it.”
My muscles tense and anger rips through me, shaking me from root to tip. Zhoric’s hold on me tightens a fraction before loosening and I slip out of his hold. I take a few steps forward until I’m standing between them. I’m atthe point of anger where I’m not sure if I’ll cry or start stabbing something. Teeth bared, I say, “And just what, exactly, have I done?”
“Freed us all,” he answers.
“And the cost, Ozias?” I snarl. “What was the cost?”
“The fall out of Dyeus was worth it.” He’s calm, in control. My temper, by comparison, makes me feel small and naïve, but I can’t contain it. I won’t.
“Did you know that would happen?” I ask, whipping my arm back to point to where Dyeus used to hang in the sky.
“I knew it was a possibility.”
“There were people there, Ozias. Good people.” I say, a sob catching in my words.
“There are good people here and in Nevoba and look at how we were treated all these years,” he says, gold eyes blazing. I understand his anger, his frustration. I do. But that doesn’t make it right.
“And the gods?” I demand.
