Page 148 of Black Wing and Shadows
Oliver clapped Zane’s shoulder as they passed. “Family feast tonight?”
“Of course, my mom will be excited to host us all again,” he said.
Nikolai gave them the faintest nod. “Eat. Rest. Don’t dawdle.”
And that was it. No lingering. No long goodbyes. Just two groups of Riders passing one another.
We turned down toward the river, our boots crunching in unison, the path widening into open ground. Ahead, the fields gave way to the frozen bend of the Blackmere, glittering silver in the late morning light. Beyond it lay endless dark trees and the long stretch north.
Esme’s presence thrummed warm against me, her voice amused,“you have eaten. I have hunted. Now we fly, my little Rider.”
I pulled my flight coat tighter against the wind as we neared the clearing where the fliers were already waiting, wings folded, eyes sharp.
Our rest was over. It was time to retake the sky.
We left Blackmere with the sun overhead, the river flashing silver beneath, fliers pushed toward the west, and mountains as a destination. Air brought sharpness, cold pressing into lungs, refusing release. The early flight offered an open sky and steady current. Further west, conditions shifted, and less forgiveness was found.
Mountains rose, jagged stone crowned with snow, ridges stark in noon light. Air was funneled in bursts, crosswinds striking without warning.
Esme moved forward, wings spread wide, as more effort was required to counter the gusts. My thighs burned from keeping my seat in the saddle, and leather creaked as air pushed sideways.
Silence replaced laughter and jokes. Sadie was pressed low over Korra, griffin feathers flattened in the pass. Landon’s phoenix no long held flames on her wings. Zane and Remus maintained the lead, wings cutting through turbulence. Nikolai’s dragon matched their pace, sharp banking and keen observation.
Below, ravines cut the mountains, shadows swallowing ground. From above, cracks in the world revealed beauty.
Esme’s voice brushed through the bond, low and particular,“Eyes forward, little Rider. The air is treacherous here. Trust me.”
I forced a hard swallow down, gaze fixed on Zane’s silhouette ahead. He didn’t show any falter in the strong gusts. The flight northwest was long but steady. Westward flight proved shorter, but it demanded every resource—wingbeat, breath, and focus. Silence had consumed us.
Sunlight reflected off the snowcaps, and the air thinned as the passage through the mountains deepened. The wind howled, pushing against wings, the cold clawed as we flew through.
“Stay tight!” Nikolai barked, his dragon banking sharply against a gust. “Keep your spacing, don’t drift!”
Esme surged beneath me, wings driving hard. I pressed low against her neck, heart hammering. Sadie and Landon had been on each side, their griffin and phoenix cutting steady lines—until the crosswind hit.
Screaming wind came down the ridge, delivering brutal force to our fliers. Esme skidded sideways, her claws scraped stone. Korra’s shriek was heard, narrowly avoided tumbling into me.
And then—Landon’s phoenix folded.
“Daphhhhneeee!”Esme shrieked through the bond.
The red-orange phoenix screamed as the gust tore its wings inward. Landon pitched forward in the saddle, hands clawing for the pommel, but the strap snapped like a string.
“Landon!” I shouted. My voice was lost to the wind.
The phoenix tumbled, fire sputtering. Landon’s scream tore across the mountains as he fell—first tangled in flames, slowly gone in the abyss below. His body shattered on the rocks far beneath us, a smear of color against the snow.
The phoenix’s death cry followed. Wings crumpled, body blazing, it struck the cliffs in a burst of fire so bright the world went white.
Then silence.
My breath caught. My stomach heaved. I wanted to dive after him, but Esme’s voice cut sharp through the bond,“do not break, he is gone. We will mourn his loss later.”
“Focus, Auri. We will stop as soon as we can.”Zane spoke to me.
“Hold!” Remus thundered, his black wings steady as stone. “Keep formation, or you’ll join him!”
We held. Gods, we held. The pass funneled narrower, each of us flying while trying to hold our composure, holding the line.
