Flynn
We ran.
Or rather, we scrambled through the gloom, a chaotic stampede of demigods and one exhausted mortal woman, fleeing down the gorge-like throat of the world like we were being chased by the very concept of mortality. The tunnel was ancient, smelling of wet limestone and the deep, abiding rot of the earth, but right now, all I could smell was panic.
Kaelen was in the lead, barely visible in the dim bioluminescence of the moss clinging to the ceiling. He was cradling Aria’s small form against his chest, holding her tight, like she was the last glowing ember of a dying fire he refused to let extinguish. His boots hammered against the uneven stone floor, setting a blistering pace that was less about tactical evasion and more about raw, unadulterated terror.
I was right on his heels, my lungs burning, but it was the scent rolling off him that choked me. Amidst the damp rock, Kaelen reeked of acrid ozone and sulfur, the scent of a storm about to break, burying the softer, terrifyingly distinct scent of Aria’s fear under a thick, suffocating blanket of dragon smoke.
"Slow down!" I barked, my voice echoing sharply off the damp walls. "You're going to trip and break her neck before Hera even gets a chance to look at us."
"We’re exposed!" Kaelen roared back, not breaking his frantic stride. His voice was a jagged tear in the darkness. "She found us, Flynn! The teal light was a marker. A target. She knows!"
"I know what it was," I snapped, leaping over a fissure in the rock that Kaelen had blindly stumbled through. "But running blind into the dark isn't a strategy, Kaelen. It's prey behavior."
He ignored me. He just kept charging, his broad shoulders hunched, his entire body radiating a heat so intense I could feel it shimmering in the air from five paces back. It was suffocating. The tunnel felt smaller with every step, the air getting thinner, sucked into Kaelen's personal vacuum of anxiety. He was consuming the oxygen, replacing it with the volatile fumes of his own desperation.
I surged forward, my wolf's instincts flaring, putting on a burst of speed to catch up to him. I grabbed his shoulder, my fingers digging hard into the tensed muscle beneath his tunic.
"Stop."
He spun on me, the movement so fast it was a blur. His golden eyes were wild, completely blown, the pupils dilated into abyssal black pits that swallowed the meager light. "Let go."
"You’re letting fear drive the chariot," I growled, getting right in his face, ignoring the heat radiating off him. "You aren't thinking. You're reacting. I get it, you're terrified that you almost lost her, that she sought comfort from Thane instead of you, and now you’re trying to regain control by force. You’re lettingHer, the Queen, dictate our next move."
"She has marked us!" Kaelen’s voice cracked, a sound like a tectonic plate shifting deep underground. "We do not have timefor your critiques, Wolf! All of us need to bind together. We need to be strong enough to fight back!"
"And you think forcing a ritual out of terror is the way to do that?" I challenged, my own temper rising to meet his heat. "You think screwing her on a cold rock because you're scared of the dark is going to make us gods? That isn't power, Kaelen. That's desperation."
Something in Kaelen snapped.
It wasn't a mental break; it was a magical rupture. The container he had built around his jealousy, his fear for her life, and his millennia-old rage simply shattered.
"I AM TRYING TO SAVE HER!" he bellowed.
The roar wasn't human. It was a blast of sound that vibrated my molars and shook dust from the ceiling. And then, the Dragon manifested. Not completely, the tunnel was far too small for his true form, but his control slipped just enough for his inner nature to violently reject his human skin.
With a sickening sound like tearing canvas and cracking bone, massive, leathery wings exploded from his back.
They were magnificent, I had to give him that. Midnight scales blending into iridescent gold, given enough space, I knew they could span wide enough to blot out the sun.
They were also entirely too big for a six-foot-wide limestone tunnel.
The wings snapped open with tremendous force, instantly hitting the stone walls on either side. They rebounded with a dull, wet thud. The force of the impact buckled Kaelen’s knees. He tried to compensate, tried to fold the massive limbs, but they were stiff with disuse and uncontrolled magic. One wing, tipped with a razor-sharp talon, snagged on a jagged stalactite, jerking him violently backward.
His center of gravity shifted. He stumbled, his boots scrabbling uselessly for purchase on the slick, algae-coveredfloor, but the massive appendages acted like a sail in a gale, dragging him down.
He went over backward with a colossal crash.
Aria tumbled from his arms as he fell, landing in a heap of startled yelps a few feet away, rolling to a stop against the tunnel wall. She scrambled up instantly, unharmed, eyes wide.
Kaelen, however, was not so graceful.
He landed flat on his back; the wind knocked out of him with a grunt. His wings were pinned awkwardly beneath him and wedged against the tunnel walls, crunched at unnatural, painful-looking angles. He thrashed, trying to sit up, but the sheer span of the wings wedged against the narrow stone kept him pinned tight. His legs kicked at the air, his arms flailing as he tried to find leverage that simply didn't exist in the narrow trench.
The mighty Dragon Prince. The terror of the skies. The strategist of the First War.
Stuck.
