“If needed, yes,” Remy replied. “But also birds, a type of deer with skin like bark, and others, the records don’t even name. Things no human has ever seen.”
Cordelle leaned in, blinking. “Why would the fae need to trap anything with wings?”
“They weren’t trapping them,” Remy said. “They were healing them. The sanctuary was a sealed pocket of land, hidden under layered wards to keep the creatures safe until they could return to the wild. It was never a prison.”
I traced a curving line that ran through what looked like a carved valley. “And when their own people turned dark… it became their sanctuary too.”
Remy nodded, his eyes dark with thought. “The Light Fae needed somewhere protected. And what better place than a haven designed to heal the wounded?”
Wounded magic,I thought.Wounded people. Wounded dragons.
The Blood Isle hadn’t always been cursed. It had once been a sanctuary.
And now… it might be the only place left to save us all.
ChapterThirty
We stepped onto the Ascension Grounds, the sun doing little to warm the chilled tension thick in the air. The squads were already gathered, but they weren’t training or talking. They were standing behind their banners like statues, silent, stiff, and watching.
Something was off.
Riven leaned closer. “Why does it feel like we just walked into a funeral?”
Zander’s jaw was tight as his eyes swept the formation. “Where’s Major Ledor?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered. “But I don’t like this.”
“What is going on?” Teren asked, already peeling away from us. He strode toward a knot of Stormforge cadets who looked unusually pale.
Remy broke off, heading for Warborn. His stance was too calm, his expression unreadable, but I knew that look. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Zander caught my eye, then moved to speak with Cade near Crownwatch’s ranks. Cade was shaking his head, and his shoulders were tense under the sharp cut of his jacket.
A few minutes passed. The air remained crisp with silence and unease. When they returned, none of them looked any more at ease.
“We have a problem,” Remy said quietly, though his voice carried too far in the stillness.
“That’s an understatement,” Zander added grimly. “Theron made several decrees while we were gone.”
“Decrees?” I asked warily. “What kind of decrees?”
Remy’s gaze was heavy when it landed on me. “He’s declared himself king.”
The words hit harder than I expected. “He… what? Can he even do that?”
“With my father incapacitated,” Zander said, “and Dorian gone… yes. It leaves him in control of the crown.”
“But he was already prince regent,” I argued, my pulse thudding. “Why escalate now? Why declare it officially?”
Remy’s eyes drifted over the grounds where the squads remained divided, whispering now, banners no longer standing in perfect ranks. “To cause dissension,” he said softly. Then his gaze hardened. “And it’s working.”
The fabric of unity—the one thing that had kept the riders, even across squadrons, woven together—was fraying.
Zander’s voice was low. “He’s trying to divide the guilds before the real war even begins.”
And if we didn’t stop him soon, the dragons might not be the only ones who refused to answer their riders.
Major Ledor stormed out of the castle with that particular brand of fury that could only mean he’d just spoken to Theron. His cloak flared behind him as he crossed the Ascension Grounds, his boots striking hard against the stone.
