Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. I couldn’t lose another brother.
Bile churned in my gut as I imagined Cillian crushed under all thatstone. Chunks of it fell from all directions, rock crumbling around me, the ground quaking. I ran toward the tail of the dragon.
“Back here,” I yelled.
The tail came thumping down as I dove out of the way, and another resounding crash boomed.
A distant scream echoed again, and I shot to my feet, trying to navigate through the thick cloud of dust that had risen like a fog. A block of stone broke through the dust, flying straight for my head, and I ducked right before it hit me.
“Cillian!” I shouted. “Can you hear me?”
The tower was almost completely destroyed, limping on two legs, most of its body chipping and crumbling away. It wouldn’t be able to do much damage in its current form.
Papers and book spines fluttered through the air, and I could’ve sworn I got a glimpse of an armchair and a rug peeking out from the rubble. What in the godwitches had that tower been protecting? Or hiding?
“Cillian!” I yelled again, panic icing my veins.
“Yes,” came a weak reply, and my heart stuttered. It was hard to hear through the thundering stone around me, but it was a response. Relief swept through me at knowing my brother was alive.
“Keep talking!” I yelled, grabbing my shirt and covering my nose and mouth to keep from inhaling all the dust.
“Here,” he said, his voice almost undetectable amongst the roar of crunching stone.
I had to strain to hear what direction it was coming from. “Where?” I asked, but there was no reply, or if there was, I didn’t hear it.
Damn. Damn. Damn. I needed to find him.
I made my way through the carnage, rock crunching under my boots, toward where I thought the voice had come from, just able to make out a figure through the dancing grey motes. The thick haze of dust made it nearly impossible to see, every step I took resulting in crackling and more dust rising up.
Another chunk of stone flew by my head, and I ducked at the lastminute, watching it crash to the ground, joining a pile of stone taller than me. Chunks of rock fell from the sky like raindrops, and I had to move fast to avoid getting hit, stumbling over the carnage.
“Cillian,” I said, rushing toward his murky figure and grabbing his arm. I heaved him up to throw his limp form over my shoulder, but it was only when I drew him through the dust and closer that I realized it wasn’t the prince at all.
It was a woman, unconscious. Her flaming red hair flowed down her back, her thick blue dress torn and covered in dust, a small book clutched in her hand. I stared at her in awe.
Cillian had been right. She actually existed.
“I was right,” a weak voice said from beside me, and my head snapped in the direction of Cillian, who was bloodied, bruised, smiling like a fool, and, most importantly, alive. “We found her, and now I’m going to marry her and save our home.”
CHAPTER 3
Niamh
Dust burned my nose, filling my nostrils until it was all I could smell and taste, until it brimmed in my lungs and came out in a hacking cough.
My eyes shot open, and I stared into the face of a large, bearded man, his eyes so dark they were almost black, reminding me of the soil I used to dig in to plant Ashami’s favorite flowers. I looked down, realizing I was cuddled into his chest, cradled by his thick arms. I let out a strangled scream and pushed myself out of his grasp, falling straight onto my butt, a cloud of grey dust poofing around me.
“Get up,” he barked.
“Who are you?” My skin prickled as I looked around, not recognizing our surroundings. Terror seized me, along with a growing sense of foreboding.
No stairs. No bookshelves. No comfy armchair.
I wasn’t in the tower anymore. The tower was... it was... Just like that, all my memories came crashing down: the loud noises, the jolting, the rumbling, and then the falling. I stared at the mountain ofa man in front of me, wondering if he was part of the brotherhood. The same brotherhood who’d destroyed my entire life. But he wasn’t wearing their telltale maroon cloak or white mask. I’d never seen a brotherhood member without their trademark garb.
“I said get up,” he gritted out. “We need to move.”
My heart leapt to my throat. This all had to be a misunderstanding or a terrible dream. That was it. I was dreaming. I just had to see my tower. I’d see it and wake up andI’d be safely in my armchair as Morton scolded me for dozing off.
