Drakon whispers like nothing has changed. “The rest of the tunnel is clear. Unfortunately, Scorpia is expecting us. She and two of her followers are above the volcano’s mouth, expecting our approach from the sky.”
I listen, but my ears are buzzing, and it’s difficult to understand. Just minutes ago, I felt resolute. And now…
He squeezes my hand. “Everything okay?” he asks. “If you have changed your mind, we can go.”
Choices. He offers them to me, again and again. It makes my eyes water anew—his respect, it means more all the time.
“I’m fine,” I manage, my lips tilting in a smile now that he’s here. “Just… speaking with Wisp.”
Together we sneak forward, reaching the point where the tunnel opens to a gigantic chamber. The magma pool fills the base of the caldera, ruddy and luminous, and the liquid mantle shifts through shades of oranges and reds. It boils, spurting earth in sudden bursts.
Once this environment, rife with sulfur and sizzling heat, would have stunned my human body. Now my body reacts like a homecoming, battling my newfound resentment with Wisp.
This magma pool is the lifeblood of the isle, and I steel myself, preparing to embrace it.This rite is not the throne,I justify. When I’ve overcome this, no longer reeling from this newest revelation, I can make my next decision.
Scorpia and her patrol fly far above the mouth of the volcano. They’re facing away, toward the empty sky.
“I’ll hide there.” Drakon points to our left, indicating a dark crevice. “If they see you, I’ll be in position to divert them.”
I hope it doesn’t come to that. “I’ll be quick.”
“If you are ready, I’ll take my position and give you a hand signal to start.”
“Almost ready,” I breathe. “I… I need a moment.”
The enormity of the moment imposes upon me, and my heart races. Breath hitching, I search for calm.
Wisp is everywhere, even without the fireflies, omnipresent in her caldera, and while she no longer shapes distinct words, she offers me support.
I hesitate, both needing her and fearing her.
“What’s wrong?” Drakon asks.
I don’t know what to say, and my fingers trace my birthmark.
“Do you want to do this?”
“Yes,” I say, the word resonating within me as true. “I want this. I do.” I don’t like it, but I am who I’ve become, influenced by how I was made. And Idowant to proceed.
Conditionally, I accept Wisp’s assistance.I’ll do this, but I cannot commit to the throne rite,I try telling her.
Something clicks—either from my resolve or Wisp’s support, and my panic ebbs, replaced with level-headed clarity.
Flicking my gaze to the crevice Drakon indicated, I mentally rehearse the steps of this operation.
“I’m ready,” I tell him.
He doesn’t doubt me a second time. His lips purse, his eyes wandering across my face before settling, meeting mine.
“Reina.” He says my name like he’s already addressing a queen. “I care for you. More than I know how to say.”
These are words I wanted to hear, articulating what I already knew. “I care for you too.”
He kisses me—a soft, swift press, his lips meet mine.
Then he’s gone.
I press my fingers to my lips, still feeling him there as my gaze trails after him. Drakon sprouts his striking red wings and flies to the crevice, settling himself within. I want to cling to the sight of him, but my focus narrows, centering on my task. I brace myself, and when Drakon gives his signal, I begin.