Page 14 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
—Zephyros!
Rhealyn’s voice—unmistakable even after a year’s absence—rips through his mind. Pain follows, not his but hers, burning along their bond like molten metal. His massive body convulses, his tail scraping stone as his muscles contract involuntarily.
—Rhealyn!
He lurches to his feet, slamming his massive head against the cavern ceiling. Rock fragments shower down, scattering across his scales like insignificant raindrops. The pain registers distantly, nothing compared to the psychic shockwave reverberating through his consciousness.
—Rhealyn!His call thunders through their fully reawakened bond.
The world tilts. His vision blurs, doubles, then splits entirely. Through his own eyes, he sees the dim interior of his lair, dawn light creeping through the entrance. Through hers, impenetrable darkness, absolute and consuming. The disorientation nearly buckles his legs.
Then movement. Soil and stone tumbling past in a chaotic rush as if she’s being expelled from an earthy womb. Her overwhelming terror floods their connection. Zephyros roars, the sound echoing through Sky’s Edge, startling sleeping dragons from their slumber.
Blinding light explodes across Zephyros’s and Rhealyn’s shared vision. The sun—so long denied—sears into eyes unaccustomed to its brilliance. Pain lances through them both. He feels her legs give way, the impact of knees striking ground, the cool brush of grass against her palms.
And after that, nothing. The connection goes slack as consciousness abandons her.
Zephyros scrambles out of his lair, exiting through a hole on the side of Sky’s Edge. Unfurling his wings to their full span,his timeless heart thundering like war drums, he takes to the sky and climbs, climbs, climbs, beating his wings.
—She has returned!
Exultation courses through him like wildfire across a parched plain. His roar cleaves the morning air, a thunderous declaration that reverberates through Sky’s Edge. The plateau trembles beneath the force of his joy, dust and pebbles cascading from his weathered face.
Atop the plateau, dragons and their freshly minted Skyriders halt their preparations. Their heads snap upward, witnessing his explosive ascent. Some of the younger riders shrink back, instinctively afraid, while the dragons themselves tilt their heads in curiosity at this display from one who has been nothing but a brooding shadow for an entire year.
Zephyros pays them no heed. His wings beat powerfully against the currents, each stroke carrying him westward toward Hearthdale, toward the land that took his rider and has now, inexplicably, returned her.
—Wait for me. I’m coming for you.
His thoughts race along their reforged bond, seeking her consciousness. Whether she hears him doesn’t matter. The connection burns bright once more, a beacon guiding him across leagues of forests and fields.
After endless darkness, dawn has finally broken.
7
Vaylen
Istare at Breezehart. Her green eyes shine with triumph, wisps of red hair escaping her usually tidy bun. Found it? After nearly a year of fruitless searching through crumbling scrolls and ancient texts she actually found something?
The notion sits uncomfortably in my chest. Bedtime tales and children’s stories… this is what we’ve come to. The Commander and I have indulged her research because our spoiled King had to be pacified, but did we ever believe these legends would yield anything of substance? Did I? What warrior places his faith in nursery rhymes when everything else has failed?
Yet something in Breezehart’s expression gives me pause. She has proven herself both methodical and relentless. She doesn’t believe she’s chasing shadows or wasting time on flights of fancy. She’s smart, the kind of person who might stumble upon the truth through an educated theory.
Still, I can’t allow myself hope. Not again. Hope is a luxury I’ve been desperately trying to avoid because it hurts too damn much.
And yet, if even the smallest chance exists...
“Breezehart, what exactly did you?—?”
A thunderous roar cuts through the air, reverberating through stone walls and down the lift shaft. The sound is powerful, almost triumphant.
Breezehart’s eyes widen. “Was that?—?”
“Zephyros?” I say, my heart quickening despite my attempts to remain calm.
“I think so,” she whispers, pressing a hand to her chest.
To my knowledge, the dragon hasn’t uttered anything but mournful keens since Rhealyn vanished. Many nights, his cries of anguish have echoed across Sky’s Edge, a constant reminder of what he lost. WhatIlost.
