Chapter 35
Raven
I’ve circledour territory at least nine times since last night. My wings ache with exhaustion, the muscles burning with each beat, but I can’t stop. Won’t stop. Every shadow could be her. Every dark shape on the ground could be evidence. The first rays of the sunrise in the east, bathing the world in brilliant shades of crimson and gold that paint my black scales with fire. The beauty feels like a mockery when my sister is missing. When she could be hurt. When she could be?—
No, I won’t think that.
Corvis got tired an hour ago and landed on my back, his weight a familiar comfort between my shoulder blades. He’s currently asleep, his breathing steady and deep against my scales. I can feel the warmth of his body, the trust in his unconscious grip. Part of me envies he can sleep. That he can let go for even a moment when Isolde is out there somewhere.
A glint of fabric by the northern cliffs catches my attention, and my heart lurches into my throat. I bank hard toward it, my wings cutting through the chilly morning air with desperate speed. Isolde was going to dress as a unicorn yesterday, and the fabric looks like part of hercostume—that distinctive pastel pink that’s so uniquely hers. Please let it be her. Please let this lead somewhere. I land as softly as I can manage in the rocky field, my claws finding purchase on the uneven ground. The impact still jostles Corvis awake, and I wait, every muscle tense and trembling, for him to slide off before I shift back.
Once his boots hit the ground with a crunch of gravel, I shift. The transformation ripples through me faster than usual, driven by urgency and fear. The moment I have hands instead of claws, I run toward the fabric, my bare feet slipping on loose stones. I press the scarf to my nose and inhale deeply, desperately. Her scent hits me—sweet vanilla and lavender, unmistakably Isolde. “It’s hers.”
The words crack as they leave my throat, breaking on the second syllable. Dropping to my knees, I hold my sister’s scarf to my chest, the soft fabric still carrying traces of her warmth. She was here. Recently. “I’ll kill them...” My voice drops to something darker, something that makes Corvis take a step back. “Whoever took her will be melted into a puddle of goo...” I seethe, feeling the scales rise along my spine in protective ridges that pierce through my skin. My dragon claws at the inside of my mind, fighting me for control, screaming for blood and fire. I scan the area, looking for any direction she might have gone. The rocks here are disturbed, scuffed. Signs of a struggle. She fought back. My baby sister fought back and they took her anyway.
“I called your dad. He’s bringing your family...” Corvis says, watching me cautiously. I can hear the concern in his voice, the way he’s keeping his distance in case I lose control completely. Smart. Because right now, I’m not sure I could stop myself from attacking anything that moves.
My eyes lock on the vertical ascent to the Velician Mountains looming before us. The forbidden peaks rise like jagged teeth against the brightening sky, their snow-capped summits disappearing into clouds that never seem to move. They look wrong somehow—too still, too silent, like the world itself is holding its breath. Mom used totell horror stories of what lurked on the other side. Things older than dragons, creatures that make nightmares look tame, beings that haven’t been seen in centuries because no one who crosses those peaks ever comes back. At the base of the forbidden mountain, my sister’s scarf lay discarded like trash. Like she meant nothing.
All signs point to her being taken to the other side, but we need Mom here. She needs to force a vision, and once we have all the information, we blitz the enemy and send the displacer beasts in to grab my sister.
The thought of what could be happening to Isolde on the other side makes acid rise in my throat.Is she hurt? Is she scared? Is she calling for us and we can’t hear her?
Within seconds, I feel the shift in the air—the distinctive displacement that signals multiple arrivals. The pressure change makes my ears pop. The smell of ozone and wild magic fills my nostrils before Mom and the others materialize around us. Ziggy and his pride moved all the parents here to this point covertly, their forms solidifying from shadow like nightmares taking shape. “Did you find her?” Leander rushes forward and grabs both of my arms tightly, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to bruise. He shakes me, his eyes wild with panic that mirrors my own. “Tell me you found her!”
“No, I found her scarf.” I hold it up when he releases me, the fabric fluttering in the mountain wind like a flag of surrender. “I think they took her over the mountain. A shifted manticore can make the climb with a passenger, or hostage.” My gaze turns to the mountain again, trying to trace the path they might have taken. The rock face is nearly vertical, impossible for most creatures. But manticores are climbers, and if they planned this, if they knew what they were doing... My stomach twists. This wasn’t random. This was calculated.
“Mina, can you see what happened?” Leander turns to Mom, desperation bleeding into every word. Mom’s eyes immediately get that faraway look I’ve seen countless times. The gold drains away likewater down a drain, replaced by an eerie white glow that intensifies as she stares through me, through reality itself, into the threads of fate and possibility.
Walking closer, my hands shake as I reach out. I take hold of Mom’s arm, and it sucks me into her vision like falling through ice. The sensation steals my breath. The world tilts and reforms around me, reality folding in on itself. I see the valley on the other side of the mountains—a place I’ve never been, filled with twisted trees whose branches grow in wrong directions. Everything is cast in perpetual twilight, as if the sun refuses to fully rise there. Across the valley lies a dark pond, its surface perfectly still like black glass. Nothing disturbs it. No wind. No life. Just stillness that feels wrong.
In the center of the pond sits an island with a cave entrance that yawns like an open mouth, jagged rocks forming teeth. Down in the cave—and my heart stops when I see her—my sister is tied up, her wrists bound behind her back with chains that look too heavy for her compact frame. Isolde.
Drow surround her—at least a dozen, their white hair gleaming in the darkness like spider silk, their red eyes glowing like coals in a dying fire. They’re watching her. Waiting. But for what? The cave is too small for a dragon. My dragon roars in frustration inside my mind, trapped by the limitations of size. But a basilisk, or should I say two basilisks, could make quick work of the drow in those tight confines. Their petrifying gaze would turn stone walls into an advantage.
Releasing Mom, I step back, gasping as reality snaps back into place with almost physical force. The mid-day air feels too thin, too cold. My lungs won’t fill properly. She’s alive. She’s alive, but she’s terrified, and I can’t get to her fast enough.
“Daddy,” I turn and look at Thauglor, and he nods, reading the determination—and the terror—in my eyes. “We need Balor, Orpheus, and Ziggy to go with us.” My voice is steadier than I feel. Mom snaps out of her vision and double blinks, her pupils contracting and expandingrapidly. Immediately she goes into another one, her body going rigid, her breathing stopping entirely for several heartbeats.
She snaps out of it quickly, too quickly, and looks at me with fear etched across her face in lines I’ve never seen before. Whatever she saw in that second vision, it’s bad. “That will work. Isolde knows Balor and Orpheus are basilisks and will shield her eyes when she sees them.” We stare at each other for several moments, and I can see all the things she’s not saying—all the warnings about what waits for us, all the dangers she’s seen in possible futures. Some of those futures don’t include me coming back. “This will not be easy, Raven.” Mom says as she takes me in her arms, holding me like I’m still a hatchling, like she can protect me from what’s coming.
“I know, and I have a plan.” I turn and look at Corvis. He nods, his silver eyes steady despite the fear I can smell rolling off him in waves—sharp and acrid. He trusts that whatever it is I’m about to do is to keep us safe, even though we both know that’s not guaranteed. “Dad, I need you to draw their attention. Take Mom with you since she’s immune to just about everything. Mom, fly only if absolutely necessary.” I look over at Balor and Ziggy, both deadly in their own right, both old enough to have seen wars I’ve only read about. “You two plus Orpheus are with me. All three of you need to be shifted for the ride out. Your black scales and fur won’t stand out against my scales.”
I settle my gaze on Ziggy, and my voice drops lower. “The minute you’re able to grab Isolde, bring her to Leander, then grab Balor and Orpheus and take them home.” Ziggy nods, but I can see the question forming in his feline eyes before he even asks it.Why won’t I let him take me with him? Why am I planning to stay behind?
I look at Mom and Dad, memorizing their faces in case this is the last time I see them. The way Dad’s sapphire eyes catch the light. The silver streaks in Mom’s emerald hair. The scars on their hands from battles fought before I was born. My eyes fall on my sister’s scarf in my hands. The happy pastel pink color is so bright and vibrant, justlike she is. Was? No. Is. She’s alive. She has to be. I won’t accept any other possibility.
“Little one...” I hear my father’s tone soften as he extends a hand toward me. “You don’t have to do this. Your mother and I can handle it.” He caresses my cheek with a gentleness that belies his massive scarred hand, each mark a story of survival. He stares deep into my eyes like he’s trying to see into my soul, trying to find the little girl who used to hide behind his wings.
“What kind of queen would that make me?” I hold my head up high and square my shoulders, feeling the weight of my future title settle across them like armor—cold, heavy, unyielding. “One of my people — my sibling — was stolen right from under our noses.” I feel the bone plates in my face shift slightly as my dragon rises closer to the surface, pushing against my skin from the inside. “I will lay waste to our enemies and watch their forces burn before I let my sister be harmed.” A deep growl escapes my lips, vibrating through my chest and into the ground beneath my feet. A haze of acid vapor escapes my mouth as my anger grows, the acrid smell burning my own nostrils and making Corvis take another step back.
“Why aren’t you bringing Abraxis and Lily?” Ziggy asks, his feline eyes studying me carefully, looking for cracks in my resolve. “They’re black dragons.” He points out, and I turn to stare at Abraxis. It’s no secret his wing has never been right since getting shot down before my birth. I can see the slight droop even now, the way the membrane doesn’t quite fold properly, the way he favors his left side when he thinks no one is watching.
“Lily isn’t a fighter, and the general needs to be here to command the troops if something goes wrong.” I stare into Abraxis’s eyes, daring him to push me, to argue, to make me say the rest out loud. I know his weakness, and if the enemy was tactical enough to steal Isolde from the heart of our territory—from a party surrounded by dozens of family and friends—then they probably know about him too. They’ve been watching us. Learning us. They’d target that damaged wing,bring him down, use him as leverage. And I can’t risk that. I can’t risk anyone else.
“When do we leave?” Balor asks as Ziggy returns with Orpheus. My brother looks sleep-rumpled but alert, his basilisk nature already rising to the surface—I can see the faint shimmer of scales along his neck. Ziggy pulls him aside to catch him up on what’s about to happen, speaking in low, urgent tones.
I look up at the position of the sun. It’s almost at its apex, the light growing stronger and warmer against my skin in contrast to the icy dread in my stomach. “We have about another twenty minutes before we’ll have the advantage.” Twenty minutes until the drow are weakest, trapped by sunlight in their cave, their eyes burning, their movements slowed. Twenty minutes to prepare to fly into the unknown with no guarantee we’ll all make it back.
