Page 120 of The Last Dragon
“Stop it.” Her fingers squeeze my shoulder. “You’re the reason we get to live in peace. Without you, nobody would know about Grogol. Nobody would fight. They would think all the work was for nothing, that the return of the dragons is some Divine judgment coming to end humanity when you…youknow why it’s happening.”
“Nida, the venom—”
“We’ll find Sayna. Maybe—”
“Sayna is withGrogol,” I snap. “There’s no way she’ll do anything.”“You don’t know that. She saved you, spent years studying you.”
I grunt, not wanting to argue. “He’s been using me to hone thisthing. To tame it. He probably wants to find a way to use it on others.”
“Then we warn them.”
A faint rustle interrupts my reply. My hand freezes over the firepit, breath still in my throat. Nida goes rigid beside me, her eyes darting to the shadows just beyond the reach of the dying embers. There it is again—like leather brushing against stone. Someone’s out there. Watching. Listening. I reach for the stick I carved, motioning for Nida to stay quiet. She nods, barely breathing. Legs still numb, I creep forward, scanning the tree line. Every bush, every flicker of shadow feels like a threat. My fingers tighten around the wood. A bead of sweat slides down my temple. But there’s nothing. The silence feels wrong and heavy and dangerous. And we need to find a way to get some rest—recover. Out here, we’re too exposed.
I step back, crouching beside Nida. “We need to move,” I whisper. “Now.” She doesn’t argue and scoops dirt over the fire, killing the last ember with a muted hiss. Smoke curls up into the night sky. Another scoop—ensuring no more smoke comes out.
“There’s a cave just across that field,” Nida says, pointing to the right. Half-hidden behind the brush, a black mouth gapes atthe base of a rocky rise. I know that place. I’ve scouted it before. I know where we are.
We’re not far from Nedersen.
Without a word, we move—quiet and low, skimming through the underbrush like shadows. My pulse thunders. I stumble over jagged stones protruding from the ground, but we don't stop moving. If someone’s coming, we’ll be long gone before they find us.
CHAPTER 41
The cave is shrouded in darkness, our makeshift torches the only source of light. Wind slips through cracks in the stone, whistling low, carrying a faint stench of rotting meat. Nida presses her shoulder to mine as we move deeper. The only sounds are our footsteps and the soft crumble of dirt falling from above. Water drips in the distance, and the wind shifts loose rocks across the ground. Every sound keeps me on edge.I trace my finger over the red markings on the cold stone left by the soldiers who previously explored it. I smudge it. The markings are recent.
This is a good place to lay low.
“This cave is cleared,” I say, waving the torch from one side of the wall to another. “Nobody’s going to check for a while.” I kneel, brushing the dusty path with my fingertips.
“There’s an opening,” Nida whispers. She peers through a curtain of twisted branches clinging to the cave wall. She tugs atthem, snapping a few with sharp cracks, until a narrow passage opens—just wide enough for us to slip through.
She glances back, brushing hair clinging to her face with the back of her hand. “Think anyone’s been here?”
I shake my head. “I doubt it.”
Gripping the thicker branches, I snap them aside, and a rush of warm air brushes against my face. I lean into the narrow gap, stone scraping my chest as I push through. Nida soon follows.
The rocks beneath my boots are sharp, forcing each step to be slow and deliberate. The air is tight, the space tighter, but with every stride, the passage widens, the weight on my ribs easing. I can breathe again.
We emerge into a vast, breath-stealing cavern.
“Divines,” Nida whispers, scanning the area. I slowly spin with my torch in hand, illuminating each crack and crevice in the uneven stone. I stop—my fear clawing at my chest.
Claw marks.
There’s claw marks on these walls. Everywhere.And they’re recent.
I move toward the claw marks that rake their way up the wall like a warning. My pulse quickens, and the skin on my arms prickles as if a cold wind passes over me. I glance back at Nida, jerking my chin in the opposite direction.
“We should split.” I keep my voice low. “No more than ten steps apart.”
She nods. “Be on guard.”
We separate, our footsteps soft against the stone. Quiet. We need to know if the dragon’s here.
I follow the wall, eyes locked on the claw marks etched into the stone. I trace the depth of each gouge, the length of every strike. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen—yet the pattern is familiar.Recognizable. It’s like the Redsnout at the crag. I draw in a sharp breath. My mind starts to race, calculating, questioning. Howfresh are these marks? And how can a dragon fit in this place? There’s no opening large enough to go this deep.
“Zel!” My name bounces through the cave, Nida’s voice laced with panic. I turn. She’s by another wall, her torchlight casting long, flickering shadows. I rush to her side. The light spills across the stone, and my breath catches, skin prickling once more.
