Page 83 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
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Rhea
The Commander stalks into the room like a perfectly synchronized bolt of lightning, obsidian cloak billowing behind her. She surveys me with those sharp brown eyes, taking in my rigid posture, the aftermath of pain still etched across my face.
“Time to go, Wyndward.”
I nod, grateful she doesn’t ask about my reddened eyes or the tension coiled through my body. Voltguard isn’t one for unnecessary conversation.
She leads me through a narrow corridor I’ve never seen before, then through two sets of doors.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice still raw from Cragmere’s attack. From holding in my tears.
“Private exit,” she says curtly. “No need to parade you through the fort for all those prying eyes.”
For once, I appreciate her bluntness. I couldn’t bear to face anyone right now. I’ve had enough of people, so much so that an earthen tomb under the Flametop Mountains doesn’t seem half bad.
The passage leads us to one final door that spills us outside the south end of the fort. Above us, a flash of gold catches the sunlight. I squint upward to see Voltguard’s lightning dragon circling impatiently, his golden-yellow scales gleaming like freshly minted coins against the clear sky.
His massive wings slice through the air with precise, powerful strokes, his barbed tail lashing behind him as if searching for something to strike. Eerie red eyes scan the ground, intense as burning coals, while his curled white horns catch the sunlight, creating a crown-like silhouette.
Even from this distance, I can feel the crackling energy that surrounds him. Restless and volatile, much like the element he commands. He releases a sharp, frustrated screech that echoes across the fort’s stone walls, clearly dissatisfied with having to circle endlessly while waiting for his rider. The dragon is beautiful, compact and sleek compared to Zephyros.
“That’s Indrax,” she says, following my gaze. “He’s not fond of waiting.”
Voltguard gives me a sideways glance, her mouth a hard line. “Call your dragon. We need to move quickly.”
I don’t need to call him. Zephyros is already abandoning his perch on the fort’s western wall, his wings catching the updraft as he heads toward us. His presence in my mind wraps around me like armor.
—Coming.
—Take me away from this place,I respond silently.
Even going to Castle Stonefall seems better right now.
I close my eyes, feeling the familiar power surge through me. Wind answers my call, coiling around my feet like an eager pet. With a twist of my wrist, I create Vortex Lift, the air spinning into a compressed cyclone beneath me. My body rises from the ground, smooth and controlled, the sensation both familiar and thrilling.
Zephyros times his approach perfectly, banking sharply beneath me. I kill the vortex with a thought, dropping several feet through empty air. My stomach lurches gloriously as gravity reclaims me before I land in a practiced crouch atop his broad head. My fingers automatically form Tethers, securing me to him in a dance we’ve performed countless times.
Voltguard looks on from below, and I catch the hint of respect in her expression.
Dragon’s breath, it feels good to use my power again, to feel the wind respond to my commands. I didn’t realize how desperately I’d missed this—this freedom, this control, this piece of myself that nobody can take away. Not Cragmere. Not Vaylen. Not even the mysterious Tahranis.
As Zephyros climbs higher, I let my head fall back, facing the sky. The wind rakes across my skin, brutal and cleansing. My hair whips wildly behind me like a battle flag. I spread my arms wide, embracing the bite of cold air against my face, feeling more alive than I have since waking by that lake.
Zephyros rumbles in my mind, a sound that communicates his contentment.
—Let’s fly fast enough to leave everything behind,I respond, though I know we can’t outrun whatever waits for us at Castle Stonefall.
Or whatever waits inside my fractured memories.
—Say the word,he replies.
But I’m not really ready for that.
Voltguard’s Tethers crackle, bolts of electric energy snapping between her fingertips and Indrax’s scales. She stands on her dragon with the natural grace of someone who’s spent more time in the air than on the ground.
Indrax shoots forward, a golden blur against the endless blue. Zephyros follows, keeping pace effortlessly.
