My answer lands without hesitation. I’ve already done the maths. I know what it costs, and this decision isn't about Merrin, how I feel about him, what he’s done. It’s about everything else.
“One of Serrane’s dragons killed Rowan, and then he took Finn. And I know he’s behind the Ashvale attack,” I continue as Merrin stiffens slightly. “If you’re going after him, then I want to be—need to be—part of that.” My pulse kicks up, pounding against my neck, but I don’t stop. “I’ll do whatever it takes. You think I’m a weapon? Fine. I’ll become one.” Lifting my chin, I square my shoulders. “But only if I’m pointed at him.”
Merrin gives a small nod. “Good, I’m glad that was simpler this time.”
My attention shifts past him to Ahria, who’s currently flicking her tail impatiently outside the Food Tent.
“And I want to enter the Blood Moon Ceremony. Talen said it’s soon. I want to be ready. I want to be strong.” Filling my lungs, I pull in a shaky inhale. “I want to bond.”
“Very well. Talen mentioned your introduction to Ahria was less than smooth. He’s suggested Lucien assist with your flight training and I’ll assign Reya to you—to help with your fear of fire. I hear she has anunconventionalbut rather effective method.”
“Fine,” I reply as the pressure in my chest eases a fraction, and I draw in a steady breath that fills my lungs with the smell of freshly baked bread.
Tracking the scent, I catch a girl about my age moving just behind him, a long braid swaying down her back as she weaves between people, handing out rolls. She pauses in front of a man who appears old enough to be her father, then smiles and presses one into his palms.
“Is my dad here?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
Merrin doesn’t soften it. “No. He is not.”
Of course not. Stupid to even ask. Still, I open my mouth, already reaching for the next questions—about my mum, the missing journal entry, who else is working with Serrane—but a lean woman cuts in, stepping up beside Merrin with a horse in tow.
She seems just as old as him, but she’s so much taller that she has to bend down to murmur in his ear. Merrin blushes slightly, then straightens and takes the reins.
“I do apologise,” Merrin stammers, turning back to me. “But you’ll have to excuse me. There is a briefing later this week to update everyone on our current position. You will be able to ask more then. In the meantime, Magda here will get you settled. She oversees everything at the camp, so you are in good hands.”
Before I can respond, he swings into the saddle with impressive ease, angles the horse away, and leaves. In his place,Magda steps forward, her grey hair pulled into a neat bun, her posture stern and disciplined—but there’s an easy kindness in her expression that softens it.
She reaches for me with a smile, revealing a silver tooth that sparkles in the late-morning light, but before I can take her hand, the jarring clang of bells splits the air.
“Incoming!” Someone yells as they sprint past us. “Two from the east—ten seconds out! Everyone inside. Now!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Magda moves fast—her hand clamps around my arm, yanking me backward. Stumbling, my boots catch on a rope, barely keeping my footing as she hauls me into a tent behind us.
“What are you—?!” I gasp.
“Shhh.” She lifts a finger to her lips as Ahria darts in after us, squeezing through the narrow gap just before the canvas door drops shut behind her.
My mouth opens to push back again, but the words stall when my vision adjusts to the darkness, and I realise we’re not alone.
Five others are already crammed into the small space, squeezed in along the edges of the tent, the whites of their eyes stark against the dim light.
No one speaks. No one shifts. Every face is drawn, everybody held rigid, like they’re all bracing for something—something bad.
So I close my mouth and keep still.
Outside, the camp has fallen into complete silence, and inside, the only sounds left are the quiet pull of tense breathingand the heavy thud of my heartbeat. Rising fast and filling my ears.
Slowly, Magda’s grip on my arm loosens. She shifts forward an inch, fingers curling around the canvas as she draws it back just enough to peer out.
“Okay, I think they?—”
Jerking back into me, she cuts off as something overhead swallows the light—huge and sweeping, gone in a blink.
Then another follows, lower this time, closer.
Fear spikes through my chest when through the narrow gap of the door I catch the shadow stretching and distorting as it spills over canvas and rope, but when it hits the ground its jagged edges pull into something instantly recognisable. Dragon.
