“The rebels have gotten smarter with every passing year, even if the others don’t want to accept it. I think they’re trying to run us dry,” Daimon mused before Ren could ask him any more questions. “Like tiny cuts all over the body to make us lose just a little bit of blood each time, and by the end, we won’t even have realized we’ve been fully drained.”
Clouds filled the sky, giving them coverage from anything that might lurk on the ground.
“They have to be just as tired as us,” Ren said. “Even if thereare three times as many of them as there are us, we have wyverns and stronger magic.”
Daimon tightened his hand into a fist and held it until his nails bit into his skin. “And still we haven’t been able to rid our land of them.” He placed his palm against Zephyr, her scales rough and warm.
“You don’t think they can keep up the curses forever, do you?” Ren asked, his brows bunched together. “It has to be running the rebel humans into madness by now. They can’t sustain themselves using dark magic.”
Daimon didn’t have an answer for that. He thought back to the battle at Drogheda. They didn’t seem diminished; if anything, they seemed more empowered the darker their magic grew. Like they were monsters instead of people.
He shook off the thought. Humans couldn’t contain that much dark magic. They’d collapse if they went any further.
“Maybe we’ll find something out at the grove.”
“Terrifying to think about them getting their hands on the orbs,” Ren said with a shudder.
Zephyr took a sharp turn and Ren yelped. He made a noise of distress with every turn she took. But Daimon had a feeling Zephyr was doing it on purpose. Each time Ren would make a noise, a burst of amusement would shoot through their bond.
“You know she’s pleased when you show fear,” Daimon said with a faint smile.
Ren huffed, crossing his arms. Zephyr flapped her wings, jolting them forward a little faster. Ren’s hands flew to hold onto her spikes.
“How do you deal with this thing all mixed up into your emotions?” Ren muttered.
Zephyr banked again, straightening back out once she was satisfied she’d scared Ren again.
Daimon often tried to think about what his life was like before he was bonded to his wyvern. As hard as he tried toremember, there wasn’t a day he could imagine not having her emotions entwined with his.
“I’d be careful what you say around her,” Daimon said. “She’s far smarter than people realize.” She purred, the sound more of a growl, but one Daimon could easily distinguish.
Communicating mind-to-mind wasn’t all that rare, as it happened among stronger Aegis or soulbonded. But the connection made with a wyvern wasn’ttalking;it was feeling everything they felt, hearing as they heard, seeing as they saw. Only the other Riders could understand the connection that was made with the beast, and there were never enough words to try and explain what it felt like. It simply existed.
“Maybe they’ll go back to wherever they go soon,” Ren mumbled.
The thought of Zephyr leaving made Daimon’s stomach clench. All he knew was the Riders who lost their wyverns—or the wyverns that lost their Riders—were never the same after the loss. To have such a deep connection abruptly severed was something he prayed to the moon goddess he’d never have to experience.
Wyverns were only paired with a Rider in a time of war, and from what little texts there were on their history, they would return to where they came from until called on again. The stories rumored that their retreat into slumber was peaceful, a gentle parting that left the bond to fade over time rather than the way death cut it off.
Still. He didn’t want to accept either of those as a possibility.
Zephyr lifted her right wing into the air and caused them to hit a hard left, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Does she have to keep doing that?” Ren groaned.
Daimon’s mouth twitched, the closest he got to a smile most days. “You know she’s only doing it because she knows you don’t like it.”
The twisted trees of Nox Grove came into view. Even in thedarkness, the sight of it wiped any traces of the small grin off Daimon’s face. This had been home for so long, and it looked the same, but also…different. He no longer recognized the trees or the faces of the Nox present.
Zephyr tilted her nose down and dove out of the sky, landing between two large, crooked trees, the trunks warped from growing at odd angles. She shifted between her legs and tucked her wings in tightly to her sides, a sign Daimon knew well from years of being with her. She was on edge.
He slid off her back, and by the time he landed, Ren had already scrambled off and stopped a few paces away.
“Watch from above while we look through the grove,” Daimon said to Zephyr. Her golden eyes flicked to the grove behind him. She studied the area and searched for any possible threats, a flash of defiance radiating from her. “You’ll have the best vantage point to warn us if something is coming,” he assured her. She let out a huff of frustration and bolted into the sky, a shot of annoyance piercing his chest as she settled above them.
Their journey had only taken a few hours. People were still helping clean the grove, counting orbs and gathering snapped branches.
Daimon turned to Ren, his skin clammy. “You’d think as a Woodland you’d be the most comfortable with creatures,” he said with amusement. All of the Manors had a deeply rooted connection to the land and the creatures that roamed it. The crowned ruler especially.
