“Thank you!” I called out, and she rolled her eyes and dove back into the ocean.
I’d never catch them now.
I had to keep going.
I had failed.
Not yet. Keep going.
Perri was gone. Veskor had her. And I did not have him.
Go back and tell the others. Ask for help.
The thought made my stomach flip with nausea. I couldn’t ask for help. Benedict had tasked me with this. Me. If I admitted defeat, he’d never trust me again. I’d be the pity mate who read books and didn’t do much else.
I landed in a tall tree and sat for a moment, my claws wrapped around the thick bark. My wings hung low, trembling from exhaustion. My hands shook, my breaths still coming in ragged, gasping pants.
I felt sick. Not physically, but soul-deep.
I’d failed her, and everyone else.
Everyone had trusted me only hours ago. And I had promised myself, silently, stubbornly, stupidly?—
I would never fail her again. And yet here I was, empty-handed. I ran my claws down the bark, leaving deep gouges in the tree. It felt good.
“I can’t go back without her,” I whispered to no one. My whisper came out hoarse, small and pathetic.
My wings drooped, trembling from the violent rebound of my earlier attempt to force my way through. I tasted blood where I’d bitten my tongue on impact.
Going back meant watching Perri’s parents’ faces break.
Going back meant facing Benedict’s disappointment—cold and sharp enough to hollow me out.
Going back meant seeing Kieran’s restrained fury, the kind that coats every word with disappointment.
Going back meant Wren—already at the end of her strength carrying the child—feeling every loss like it was her own.
“I can’t—” My voice cracked. “I can’t walk back and tell them I failed again.”
The wind whipped around me, cold and merciless. The leaves rustled as the tree swayed slightly in the breeze.
Veskor.
A mystery draken shaped by solitude and desperation. I knew what old drakens were like when they went too long without finding community. They were crazy. Unstable. And now he had a child who didn’t belong to him.
My stomach churned.
“No,” I breathed. “Not this time. Not again.”
I stood upright, wings stiffening with purpose.
Cold air slammed into my face as I pushed off from the tree. The wind grew colder and sharper the further from the ocean I went.
“I’m coming,” I whispered, “for you.”
A savage wind ripped through my wings as I angled south, chasing a shadow across the fog-veiled sea.
I didn’t look back.
