TWENTY-SEVEN
“‘A path forgotten . . . A past buried . . . A return inevitable’ It might sound obvious, but I am certain there is more to these ruins. What we found could hold the answers we are searching for.”
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
The morning air is crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and the lingering smoke from the hearth fires behind us. The sun’s just beginning to climb, softening the sky with pink and gold.
The outpost is already awake when we ride out. The clang of swords rings through the sharp morning air, soldiers beginningtheir drills in the training grounds. The scent of steel and fire lingers in the wind.
We take the horses, as only a few of us are bonded dragon riders. The outpost shrinks behind us, its tall stone walls standing sentinel over the valley.
I look over my shoulder as we pass through the heavy gates. For months, this place has been my entire world. When I arrived here, the outpost felt like a cage. But somewhere along the way, it became my home.
My heart squeezes as I tighten my grip on the reins, urging her forward. Because the world is waiting.
The hardest part was saying goodbye to Darius, Fenric, Nessa, and Taila.
Fenric kissed my temple and whispered, “Don’t let them bore you to death in the capital.”
Nessa tucked a lucky charm into my pocket when she thought I wasn’t looking. “For protection,” she said, her voice too steady to be natural.
Darius gave me a look like he wanted to say something brave but couldn’t trust his voice.
Taila murmured, “Don’t just be brave. Be loud.”
I nodded like I was fine. But the truth is—I’ve never been further from fine. Thank the gods Lyra is coming to the capital too.
I don’t know when I’ll see my friends or the outpost again. I only know I’m not the same girl who arrived here.
I steal a glance at the others surrounding me, the steady rhythm of hooves filling the silence.
Our Escort.
Thane, Valen, Garrick, Jarek, and Rian ride ahead—silhouettes cut against the brightening sky. Behind them, ten of the outpost’s best soldiers move in disciplined formation, armor gleaming, hands near their weapons.
Five supply horses carry provisions, weapons, and medical gear—every need accounted for.
We are not an army. But we are not defenseless. A small, deliberate force—fast, mobile, carrying enough weight to show Lumoria’s capital that I am not arriving alone. A reminder that even as I ride toward the heart of the realm, I do not ride unguarded. The Fire Warlord and his best warriors ride with me.
Still, it’s the dragons overhead that make even our fiercest warriors feel small.
They create a sharp gust of wind over us as they glide around our party.
A vast shadow crosses the sky—impossibly fast for something so big. I tilt my head back, my breath catching as a shadow passes over the sun. Xaroth leads the flight, his massive obsidian-black wings cutting through the morning light, his golden eyes locked onto the road below, bound to the man who rides ahead.
Beside him, Calryx soars precise and unhurried. Her pearlescent white scales catching the sun, flashing with iridescent hues as she tilts her wings to ride the wind.
Three others follow—gems in the sky, their scales catching fire in the early morning light.
Calryx’s voice brushes against my mind. A steady presence.“We are watching, Virelya.”
I exhale, loosening my grip on the reins just a bit.
The morning sun stretches higher, burning off the last of the dawn mist. The open road stretches ahead, winding through golden fields and rolling hills, the shadow of the mountains lingering at our backs.
Hoofbeats pound against the dirt, the steady rhythm of the horses filling the quiet between us. Of course Lyra doesn’t let the silence last.
