Lore nodded, urging me on.
“The dragon represents the curse's origin. The symbols are the steps: water to find the location, the blade for the ritual, the crown for the final binding.” My voice came out hoarse with awe. “The pendant is ancient enough to remember when these connections mattered, when the three courts worked together instead of apart.”
I returned to sit on the sofa and while Lore joined me, the others retaking their own seats, I summoned my pen and paper with a flick of magic. “Quill, record, please.” The pen twitched to life and began writing everything I dictated, every word of what we saw.
Lore shifted closer to my side, studying the paper. “Three symbols. Each one must mean something vital.”
I tapped the page. “The ripple. The blade. The crown. We’ve seen two of those already.”
Dorion shifted forward, his eyes narrowed in thought. “I think the ripple could be tied to the Halendor myth. ‘Where dragon tears fell into the sea, the tide remembers.’ There were other riddle verses my grandmother used to recite when I was small. Something about…'Four as one shall light the way, when sea and sky meet ancient day.' I never understood what it meant.” His gaze sought mine. “But it’s all coming together.”
Finally.
“We’ll save him, Reyla,” Dorion said. “I promise.”
If only I had the confidence I found in our friend’s voice.
“I believe it refers to a location,” Lore said.
Dorion nodded. “I agree. Give me one moment.” He vanished, flitting… somewhere.
I stared at the talismans. The words from the tidal pool echoed in my mind.The heart waits where stone sings and scales remember.
Scales. I’d seen those in the pool. Dragon scales, to be precise. But where does the stone sing?
A breeze passed through the open windows. Outside, the wind stirred.
Dorion flitted back to the room, a map clutched in his hand.
“This,” he said, unrolling it on a nearby table. We crowded around, studying it. “Is from my father’s private archives. It shows a place called Starfall Break. Here—” He pointed to a jagged seam near a line of sea cliffs. “It’s a place few dare to sail. The currents are strong. But the stories say dragons once lived there. Died there too, I suppose.”
Lore leaned over the map, frowning. “Maybe they didn’t die, not if they were changed by…well, you know.”
The curse.
Dorion’s jaw tightened. “It wouldn’t surprise me. My great-uncle claimed your dragons were a threat to balance.”
“My grandmother felt that way too,” Laphira said.
“Well, it’s said my grandfather ordered them poisoned.” Dorion’s mouth twisted. “But what if that was a lie crafted to hide something older?”
“Prager,” Lore growled. “I sense her hand in this.”
So many well-crafted lies, all intending to ensure that every generation of Evergorne king died on their thirtieth birthday for eternity. How could she hold onto that much hatred for this long?
We returned to our seats, and I reached into my pocket and drew out the blade the Halendor librarian had given me. As soon as I placed it beside the talismans, it hummed.
The hum grew sharper, higher pitched. For a moment, the tip of the blade turned toward me as if drawn or in warning. It spun again, settling with the tip pointed away from me.
Unease crawled beneath my skin.
Lore’s hand found mine.
“In the labyrinth,” he said to the others. “Reyla was mortally wounded. Dying. I made a promise. I shouted that I would give anything to save her. A dragon appeared, the same one we saw the other night. The same one that saved me from one of the traps inside the labyrinth. It said it would heal Reyla if I agreed to meet with it when it said it was time.”
The hum deepened, the blade responding to his words.
I squeezed his hand. “It wants you to perform the blood ritual, doesn't it?”
