She feels herself settle. It can’t be described ascalm. Not with the way her insides are thrumming, or how the sweat trickling down her spine feels like it’s searing her skin. But there is a feeling ofrightnesscoursing through her. She has never felt this way in her entire life, but in that moment she is sure—she is supposed to be here. She is a dragon heir, and she can do this.
She looks for the river she’s supposed to follow. The island is cut with valleys, making her grateful for the hours Zryan made her stare at the damn map.
She jogs to the river on her left.Don’t exhaust yourself—that was rule—what?—one hundred and eighty-six. There’s a surge of heat as she nears the riverbank. She looks down, then backs away violently. Because that is not water. It is fucking lava, bubbling there, like molten syrup. Shit.Shit!If she slips, if she gets thrown back by a dragon—she will boil to death from the inside out. Zryan could havewarnedher.
She scans the horizon for Draka, then, with the lava edging her on, she moves faster than she perhaps should. But an easy jog is impossible—the magic of the place is pulsing through her, making her feel like she has infinite energy. She keeps her eyes trained on the peak, but she notices things as she runs. Shade where there are no trees. Plants, bright and green, bursting out of burnt rock. Thechatter of insects. Even the lava seems alive, the hiss and bubble of it below murmuring words she doesn’t understand.
Then she hears it.
A rumbling roar, getting closer.
Before she has time to react, wind whips up around her, lifting her into the air, then slamming her back down. Her body crunches against rock and her teeth clash together. But she scrabbles to her feet—the major bones, at least, do not seem to be broken. She looks around, her heartbeat frantic. There. Gray scales—not quite the bright silver of Mjolnir’s—high above her. A dragon of the Air Dynasty.
It’s started.
She needs to keep moving—Zryan hammered into her how staying in one place makes her an easier target.
Air is building again, wind skipping over the ground at her feet. She sprints for a boulder to her left, but out of nowhere comes rain. It is still a bright blue day, but water cascades over her nonetheless, so heavy that she can’t see where she’s going. A surge of panic rises in her when she slips, knowing the lava is near. Then the rain eases, and she blinks to see a blue dragon perched on the edge of a volcano up ahead, cocking its head at her. Well, Mjolnir had warned her they’d be curious.
They come. Not all at once, but one by one. A test, she tells herself. Not an execution. She waits for the tug Zryan and Mjolnir told her she’d feel—but she feels nothing yet. Ice forms in the air, shatters at her feet. Lightning scorches the air as she darts from boulder to tree, jumps over crevices in the ground. Colors blend into one another, the edges between everything falling apart. She feels dizzy with the energy coursing through her—and fucking high.
There is a flash of bright white scales—and light explodes around her. She screws her eyes shut, but it’s too late. The pain is impossible. Her eyes burn and she lifts her hands to her face like she might claw them out, falling to her knees as she does so. She can’t help it, she lets out a scream because this is unbearable. She will be blinded, she knows it.
Dust coats the inside of her mouth as she breathes through pain that is—gone. She blinks, cautiously. The Solar Celestial is nowhere to be seen.
In fact, there are no more dragons at all. But she can’t see the river, either. Fuck. It was behind her, wasn’t it? She looks to the horizon, but there are too many peaks to choose from and she has no idea which is Draka.
It’s then that she hears it. Faint at first, barely more than the murmur of a faraway creak. Music. A music made of the sounds of nature, the whisper of wind through long grass, cascading waterfalls, the rustle of leaves. It is the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard—and she knows, no Acoustic in the world could conjure this.
She has no choice. The music is calling to her—and she has to go to it. She moves deeper into the island, where the trees grow denser and the world changes from red to green. She heads through the forest and into a clearing, long grass stretching before her. A breeze tangles her hair as that music threads through every part of her, tugging her toward it.
There is a cave, in the distance. Crystals glitter in the sunlight at its entrance, and she can just make out a white waterfall to its left. The music grows to a climax, a clashing of sounds that sends a tremor through the air.
Then, abruptly, it stops.
Unease fills the space between her breaths.
There is a stillness that is eerie, unnatural. She is in the middle of the clearing, the cave in front of her. That’s where the music was coming from, she’s sure of it. She takes a tentative step toward it. It is more than a mile away. She shouldn’t be able to, but she can see the entrance perfectly. So she can see as a dragon steps out. Dark gray scales, the spikes on its head broken in places. It moves slowly, almost stiffly. It regards her, its head lowering. Skylar’s body stiffens. She should run. Get back to the cover of trees, to the lava river. But her body is stuck, like vines are wrapped around her legs.
Because she knows, somehow—one wrong move, and the dragon will react.
The dragon looks at her for another long moment. Deciding something. Then it opens its jaw wide to show yellow, cracked teeth. And roars.
The sound is a high screech, and Skylar screams as pain pierces herskull. She drops to the ground, covering her ears, and the dragon stops. Blinks. Looking almost… surprised. Its irises are a deep purple, less bright than Mjolnir’s. Mjolnir.
Remember I have already deemed you worthy.
Will the other dragons tell him what happened here? What will he say, when he finds out how she died—because she was too stupid to stick to the path? What will any of them say? Though is this what they wanted all along—for her to die out here? Zryan, and Axel, and…
Shit. The witch. Astrid is dead, if she dies. And Cam. Who will save Cam, if she’s not around to do it?
She forces herself to her feet. The dragon has not moved. Was it this dragon making the music? She doesn’t think so. It looks more like it is guarding something. Maybe that gives her a chance. If it’s not going to attack, she can back away and—
She feels it then. A rumble of magic through the soil, pulsing under her feet. Like the very island is warning her.
They land, the ground shaking with the force of it. White, gray, black, blue. Their eyes are a matching hard glint, their heads lowered as one.
Her palms are slick, her muscles stretched too tight over bone. The crackling within her rises to breaking point. Together, the dragons look to the dark gray one, still guarding the entrance of the cave. And when that dragon inclines its head, an almost regal nod, Skylar knows that it doesn’t matter who she has on the outside depending on her.
