Whispers and Wind, A Tale of Ghosts and Gods: Scrolls of the Raithsworn, Chapters 16 - 20

Chapter 16

I descended into the depths of Vundra Mountain as quickly as I could.

All around me, Druhellen miners moved through the tunnels, speaking in low voices to the each other, A few Raiths among them urging them to leave at once. The activity was hurried, but controlled. Silent. We couldn’t risk panic.

But it would come.

Moving this many people without drawing attention was impossible. The D’ral would notice. And when they did, the Raiths would deal with them.

This was the moment before the storm.

I could feel it.

I renewed my runes before descending and I checked them repeatedly as I moved through the tunnel and down into its depths. I inspected the one for Feyre. Then my Talon leaders. My High Warden. Even the other Wardens, in case we needed to call an entire Vyre to arms.

Dread coiled inside me as I went deeper into the dark. Not just for what lay beneath the mountain…

But for what would come for it.

If the Vexari knew about the dragyn, about what lay hidden here, they would send their best.

Or their worst.

Vexari Knights.

Warriors who wielded power rivaling the strongest of our kind.

I was ‘of men’. My orders were clear. Stall. Withdraw. Let stronger Raiths engage.

But those orders had never sat well with me.

I had faced Vexari knights before. Once or twice. When I was younger. Reckless. Too certain of my own skill. I believed my training made me untouchable.

It didn’t.

My sword mother, Xailin, my mentor during my Ember Path training, had instructed me in hand to hand combat within an inch of my life. Knowing I was lacking in power and skills that many other Raiths possessed. She had forged me into something precise and agile. Controlled. Deadly. But even then… I was no match for a Vexari knight.

She had, also, given me a weapon, one favored by the Shuunai warriors of old. A Ketsu blade. A double-edged short blade, anchored to a length of leather rope, with a hooked end and a weighted metal ring at the other.

It was made for distance. For taking on more than one opponent. For killing without ever letting your enemy get close enough to lay a hand on you.

I mastered it.

It was one of the reasons I earned the rank of Warden at all. Passed my final trials. Survived.

It rested now at my hip. Ready.

If they came again… I wouldn’t run.

I knew that as surely as I knew my own name.

And whatever lay beneath this mountain was my charge to get to the High Warden. Into the Vye’Rathis care. The Watchers of the Vale would oversee its imprisonment. It could not fall into Vexari hands. Not ever.

I dropped into the final tunnel and moved quickly, emerging moments later into the cavern where the dragyn slept.

Every head turned toward me.

“Haletha,” I called. “Get your people out. Now. The Vexari are coming. We’ve run out of time. Jinsu.”

He stepped forward immediately. “Warden.”

“Get Haletha to the surface. Take as many of her people as you can.”

Haletha didn’t move. She held my gaze, something fierce and unyielding burning in her eyes.

“This is the land of my ancestors,” she said. “I cannot leave.”

“You must,” I said, my voice hard. “Forgive my haste, but this mountain is about to become a battlefield. We need to take what lies in its belly and be gone. Fast.”

Her eyes widened.

“The camp… our people…”

“The Raiths are already evacuating,” I said. “You need to be among them. Do you understand?”

“I will not leave until every last one of my people is out,” she said again. “That is our way. As the leader of this camp and the heir of my ancestors. I stay with the mountains. With our ancestors.”

Theryx stepped up behind her.

“No,” he said softly. “You must go, love.”

She turned to him, shaking her head.

“I will stay with the Raiths,” he continued. “With the bones and blood of our people in the mountains. If the Vexari are coming, we will fight. We cannot let them take what this dragyn guards. Go, my queen.”

Haletha pulled him into a tight embrace. They whispered to one another in Druhen, words of love and farewell I didn’t dare linger on.

For a moment, I saw my parents. My father doing the same before they were both was lost to me.

I swallowed the memory down. Hard.

Jinsu guided Haletha away, leading her toward the surface. Theryx remained, along with his people.

I turned back to the doors.

“Where are we on opening them?”

“Lyrra,” Zahya snapped, stepping forward. “We haven’t deciphered the markings. They could be warnings. There could be something there we need to understand before we go any further.”

“They are warnings,” I said. “But we don’t have time.”

“What if they’re the key to opening the doors?”

“We don’t have time to find the key.”

She stared at me.

“Blast them open.”

“What?” Her eyes widened.

“Blast them.”

“Lyrra—”

“Zahya,” I cut in, stepping closer. “The Vexari know we’re here. They know what we’ve found. They are coming. Are you willing to risk whatever lies beyond those doors falling into their hands just to open them the right way?”

She hesitated.

Then exhaled.

“No.”

She stepped back, studying the doors again, but this time with resolve.

“Fine,” she said, planting her feet. Power gathered around her. “But a burst might not be enough.”

“We must try,” I said. “And if it fails, we find another way.”

A beat.

“Even if that means waking the dragyn.”

“Vel’ar…” Zahya breathed.

“Stand back. All of you,” I called.

The Druhellen scattered from the doors, pulling away as one. Every eye turned to Zahya. To the stone. The cavern seemed to hold its breath.

This had to work. Zahya was Vyeth. A child of Vaen’Liora.

I had seen what their kind could do. Tear through ranks of D’ral. Raise shields from nothing but raw, innate power. Strike Vexari knights from the sky. Strength beyond men. Healing that defied death itself.

But this…

Ancient doors. Marked with runes and sigils, script older than memory. Crafted by hands that understood magic on a level far beyond our own. Vyeth. Druhellen. Eerynian.

I didn’t know if even they could break them.

Zahya was born of the very magic that shaped this world. The same power that carved this cavern… that hid whatever lay beyond those doors.

Surely, those who sealed it away had known.

Hoped.

That one day, someone like her would come.

To find it.

To protect it.

I had to believe that.

Zahya drew in a slow breath, then rolled her shoulders and spread her hands. Power gathered at once, spilling from her in a brilliant surge of blue and black light. Her markings ignited, glowing along her skin. Her face hardened with focus, control tightening around every movement.

The energy built between her palms.

Then she released it.

It struck the doors like a blast of blue fire. Stone shuddered.

Again.

Another surge. Stronger. The crack of splitting rock echoed through the cavern.

Again.

The doors gave.

Just enough.

A narrow opening formed. Barely wide enough for a single person to slip through.

Zahya dropped to her knees.

A strange void filled the air, seeping from the space beyond the door. A hollow, terrible silence.

A nothingness. Like the black beyond held nothing in it but more of the same. Endless black.

I ran to Zahya’s side. “Zahya! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “Go. But be careful.”

I crouched anyway, checking her. Her breathing was uneven, her strength nearly spent.

“Go,” she said again, more urgent now. “It’s dark power, Lyrra. I can feel it. It’s stronger now. I can’t go any closer. It’s too much. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

I looked to Theryx. “Get her out. Get everyone out. The fight will be at the mouth of the mine. If that dragyn wakes, it will bring this entire mountain down with it. Go. Hold the D’ral as long as you can. Push the line.”

He nodded. His fighters moved quickly, lifting Zahya and guiding her away.

“Zahya,” I said, catching her gaze. “Tell me the moment you reach the surface.”

She gave a weak nod.

“Orun speed, Warden,” Theryx said.

“Same to you.”

I nodded once.

Then I stood. Turned.

Ran for the doors.

I took a breath, grabbed a torch from one of the Druhellen torch lights, and slipped through the opening.

---

Chapter 17

The room was impossibly dark.

I lifted the torch high, letting the light crawl up the walls and stretch toward the ceiling. It was smaller than I expected. A square chamber, every wall lined with thick, rotting wooden shelves. Ancient texts and scrolls filled them, sagging under their own decay.

The air reeked of mold, dust, mildew, and vermin.

Most of the books were barely holding together. Scrolls crumbled at the edges, disintegrating where they rested.

I cursed under my breath. I didn’t have time for this.

More trickery.

Vyeth and Eerynians were known for it. Hiding truths in plain sight.

Right now, it wasn’t helpful.

I moved quickly, running my hand along worn spines, decaying parchment, scanning the room as my pulse climbed with every second. There was no bloody way in the Vel’ariin this was all there was. A chamber this deep, bound with ancient magic, a spelled dragyn to guard it…

For a rotting library.

I searched the shelves, forcing myself to focus.

Then something caught my eye. Gold. Etched. Engraved. A book. The marking along its spine.

It pulled at me. Recognition, sharp and immediate.

But the memory was blocked.

I pushed against it anyway.

A flash.

A boy. Tawny skin. Dark hair. Markings across his body. Slightly pointed ears. Dark knowing eyes. A mark on his left shoulder. Interwoven lines, ending in a hooked shape.

The memory brought something unexpected.

Calm.

Peace.

My wrist burned.

I hadn’t noticed it before.

I pulled back the leather of my gauntlet.

And the gold thread wrapped around my wrist took my breath away.

It was glowing. Burning brightly with a quiet, steady power.

When had that appeared? How long had it been there? I had no memory of it.

And then… the dark. The fog. A hand reaching through nothingness.

A voice.

Not Keiyr’s.

His.

“Where are you?”

Deep, low.

It echoed through me, as if he stood just beyond reach.

My runes flared suddenly. Zahya.

“We’re on the surface,” her voice came through, strained, threaded with static and that same buzzing energy now filling the room. “They’re here.”

“How many?” I sent back.

A pause.

“Six.”

I stilled.

Vel’ariin…

Six Vexari Knights meant we were already losing.

I covered my wrist, then reached for Arkyn through the runes. He felt distant. Faint.

“Send everyone you can,” I pushed through the link. “Six knights. I have it. We’re in it.”

His reply came like a whisper down a long tunnel.

“Fly, Lyrra. Get it out. And fly.”

I grabbed the marked book and slammed it onto a warped wooden table at the center of the room. It cracked under the impact.

I opened it.

And there it was.

Set into the pages, carved perfectly to hold it.

An orb.

Dark green and black, streaked through the center with a thin line of orange. It looked almost organic. Simple. Familiar in a way.

But it pulsed.

With that same power.

That void. That blackness.

My heart hammered as the cavern around me seemed to breathe in time with the power emanating from it.

No.

Not the cavern.

The dragyn.

It was waking.

I inhaled slowly. Let it out.

Then I reached for one of the leather pouches at my belts, pulling it, and the belt, free.

My hand hovered over the orb.

Time slowed.

The mountain stilled. Held its breath.

The moment my fingers brushed its surface—

Everything broke loose.

The dragyn stirred.

The mountain roared.

Stone cracked and trembled. Dust and debris rained from the ceiling as the cavern shook around me.

I didn’t hesitate.

I snatched the orb and shoved it into the pouch, yanking the strap tight and securing it against my chest.

I already knew my options.

There were only two.

Get past the dragon and out of the mountain before it collapsed, or… ride the damned thing out.

I ran, forcing myself through the narrow gap in the doors.

Then skidded to a halt.

The dragyn was awake.

Disoriented.

And building toward fury.

Its massive head turned toward me along a long, serpentine neck. An otherworldly creature. It reminded me of the basilicks I had encountered when I was younger.

I froze for half a heartbeat, taking in the sheer scale of it.

Then I swallowed and looked toward the opening. My only way out.

The dragyn surged upward from its resting position, slamming its head against the cavern ceiling.

The dragyn let out an ear-splitting roar. I clapped my hands over my ears, already running.

Stone cracked and fell beneath the force of it. It snarled, irritated, shaking loose more rock as its talons scraped against the rock floor.

Vel’ariin… I wasn’t making it out of this mountain unscathed.

Fire erupted behind me. It couldn’t turn its head fully, so the blast tore through the doorway instead, igniting the library beyond. Flames roared to life, swallowing paper and wood in seconds.

I threw myself forward, running at full-speed, lunging through the narrow opening. I slammed into rock. It cut into my arms and side. I pushed myself off and sprinted down the narrow tunnel toward the first basket upwards.

The mountain groaned around me. Walls bowed and cracked as the dragyn moved, its bellows shaking the stone. Each one sharper. Louder. Angrier.

I reached the basket, leapt in, and cut the line.

It shot upward.

The rope snapped and shredded as I ascended, the sudden force nearly throwing me free.

I didn’t stop.

The moment I landed, I ran.

That was when I felt it.

What I carried.

It wasn’t weight. Not truly.

It was pressure.

Oppressive. Heavy in a way that had nothing to do with mass. Like it pressed against my very being.

And as I ran, my mind turned back to it.

The shape.

The look of it.

An eye.

A dragyn’s eye.

But too small. Far too small. The one behind me had eyes the size of boulders.

This one… no larger than my hand with outstretched fingers.

A thought crept in, unbidden.

Had it been taken from a youngling?

They were said to hold immense power. Raw. Untamed magic.

Was that dragyn its mother?

Or merely its guardian?

Was it bound? Enchanted? Forced into that endless sleep?

What in all the hells of Tahlmorhen required being sealed inside the eye of a dragyn to be contained?

I pushed the thoughts aside and ran harder.

I reached the final lift. The one that rose straight up through the gorge.

I pressed my hand to my runes, reaching out to every Talon leader.

“Almost at the opening,” I sent. “I have it. The dragyn is awake. I need someone at the mouth.”

A beat.

“I’ll be there.”

Renn.

I cut the rope.

The basket shot upward, fast enough to steal the breath from my lungs. Rock and earth shifted around me as the dragyn below stirred fully, its massive body stretching, wings unfurling as it fought to break free of the cavern. Rock gave way all around me. Solid structure turning to dust and rockslides.

The basket began to tear apart.

I readied my Ketsu.

Light below me. Not daylight. Fire.

I spun the blade and hurled it. The hook caught rock with a sharp crack. I yanked hard, abandoning the basket as it gave way beneath me.

I slammed into the stone, clinging to the Ketsu line and hauling myself up the last stretch.

Below, the dragyn clawed its way up the gorge. Talons digging into the stone. Fire and flame burst from its jaws as it roared, the sound tearing through the mountain. Shaking the very earth.

For a moment, it seemed stuck.

I didn’t wait to see if that would last.

I pulled myself over the edge and ran.

Fast.

Following the tracks through the upper mine, now abandoned in the chaos.

A pulse through my runes.

“Lyrra,” Jor’s voice. “They’re everywhere. D’ral. The sky is full of Skyre. We are outnumbered.”

“I’m here,” I sent back.

“So am I,” Renn’s voice followed.

I burst from the mine entrance and met him at the mouth. Without slowing, I unclasped the satchel and threw it to him. He caught it against his chest, staggering under the force of it.

“Keep it moving,” I said, my voice sharp as I reached through the runes to all my Talon leaders. “We need to get it to High Warden Daevros. Then to Hollowward.”

Renn nodded.

Then he turned and ran for his Skaerynd.

I scanned the battlefield, forcing myself to focus, to find my Talon leaders.

Jor had been right.

The sky was thick with Skaerynd… and three Vexari Knights mounted on Skrye. Lizard-like beasts, each the size of two horses. Descended from dragyns. Smaller, faster. Winged. Venomous. Clawed. Rows of teeth meant for tearing.

Renn launched into the night sky.

The Vexari spotted him instantly, as if drawn to the eye itself.

“Damn,” I muttered.

He wasn’t going to get far.

I drew my sword and ran straight into the fray.

Raiths and Knights clashed across the field. D’ral barked orders through the chaos. There were far more of them than there should have been.

Whoever the snitch was, they had sold us all out to the Empire.

We were vastly outnumbered. Already losing.

I had no idea where Haletha and her people were. Whether the mothers and children had even made it out alive. In my heart, I feared they hadn’t.

Judging by the sheer number of D’ral flooding the camp, they had likely overwhelmed it before the evacuation was complete. Set the whole place ablaze before we ever had a chance.

My heart sank.

The forests lining the mountain range were ablaze, fire tearing through the trees on either side of the mines. Smoke choked the night sky, thick and black.

Every head turned as the dragyn unleashed a piercing screech that sent both Skrye and Skaerynd into a frenzy. As if the mountain itself screamed.

The ground shook violently beneath us as the dragyn moved from deep within the stone. Great cracks thundered through the mountain walls. Rocks tumbled down its side as the beast fought to tear itself free from its prison of earth and stone.

Above, Zahya and her talon battled the Knights in the sky.

“Flank Renn,” I sent through the runes to her. “Back him up. If he can’t escape with it, keep it moving. The Vexari do not lay hands on the eye. Sacrifice everything for it.”

Affirmations pulsed back at once.

Above, the Raiths moved as one toward Renn.

He dove hard, twisting in the air, evading the Knights as they descended on him.

Then Jinsu surged in from the side.

Renn dropped the satchel.

My heart stopped.

Jinsu caught it mid-flight and veered off, his Skaerynd snapping into a brutal series of aerial maneuvers to shake the Knights from his tail.

Then, I ran.

Drove straight into the line with the Druhellen. Druhellen fought alongside Raiths, holding the line with power, shield, axe, sword, hammer. I cut down D’ral as I pushed forward toward the Knights on the ground.

Steel rang out.

Power burst in flashes of blue light. Shields flared. Blades clashed.

The wounded fell.

And on the other side I found Jor.

I slid into position behind him, my Ketsu blade ready.

“Warden,” he breathed, harsh and strained. “Glad to see a mountain didn’t fall on you.”

I smirked.

“Not today, anyway.”

He shook his head.

“Where are the others?”

“There are no others,” I said. “It’s us, Jorraine. Everyone else is fighting for their lives. For the Druhellen.”

“Vel’ariin,” he spat, dropping into a fighting stance as three Knights closed in around us.

They were towering. Armored like iron statues, their red capes shifting in the wind. Their presence pressed in, heavy with unnatural power.

Old.

That much was clear.

Some said they were descended from Revyr himself. Others that they were made. Forged by Vexari priests through dark rites and older magicks. Stolen magicks. I tended to believe the latter.

Either way… they were not of men. Not any more.

Beyond the chaos, I caught sight of them.

Vexari priests.

Pale faces. Marked with white paint. Bald heads. Blood red cloaks, over white fabrics. Black markings drawn down their skulls and across their eyes, the paint smeared to make them look hollow. Gaunt. Something less than human.

They stood in a circle.

Chanting.

My stomach dropped.

That was never good.

That was very bad.

“Jor,” I said quietly. “You need to help get the eye out of here.”

“And leave you?” he snapped. “Not a bloody chance.”

“You must.” I didn’t look at him. “That’s an order. Get to Jinsu. Get the eye out.”

He shook his head.

“Jor,” I said, sharper now. “We sacrifice everything for the mission. The blade justifies the end, remember?”

He glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

Then nodded once.

“But I’m taking one of these sorry bastards with me first.”

I nodded.

---

Chapter 18

Jorraine moved first, unleashing a blast of power that struck one of the Knights square in the chest. The force staggered him back and then they collided, swords crashing together as power burst around them in violent flashes.

The other two came for me slowly. Calmly. Like they had all the time in the world.

I didn’t.

I dropped my Ketsu. The hooked blade struck the ground with a sharp clang. I planted my boot against part of the rope, readying myself.

Then I moved.

I kicked the blade upward. As it spun through the air, I struck it again, sending it hurtling toward the first Knight. The leather rope snapped taut behind it.

The Knight reached to catch it.

Mistake.

The hooked blade wrapped around his arm and, using the momentum of the second Knight lunging toward me, I yanked hard. The rope snapped around the second Knight’s waist as I twisted out of his advance. My arm slipped through the metal ring at the other end, locking it against my shoulder, and I threw my full weight into the pull, dragging both of them off balance at once.

They slammed into each other.

I didn’t hesitate.

I twisted the rope through them, the enchanted blade slicing through armor and steel alike. The Ketsu had been forged with old magic. The blade sharpened beyond mortal means. The rope bound to my command. With enough force, it could cut a man clean in half.

It nearly did.

But the Knights recovered fast. Faster than any normal man could.

I fell into a stance to come at them again.

And then the real fight began.

Steel rang out in rapid succession. My Ketsu whipped and spun between them, deflecting strikes, catching blades, forcing distance where they wanted closeness. We moved like dancers in a deadly rhythm, circling, striking, countering.

I used everything. Speed. Precision. Momentum. Their own weight against them.

It wasn’t enough.

One of them seized the rope and yanked it taut.

An iron-clad fist crashed into my cheek, as I was pulled in. He hit me hard enough to burst stars across my vision. Snap my head around.

Before I could recover, his hand closed around my throat. He lifted me from the ground with one arm alone and dragged me close to his masked face.

“Tell them to bring me the eye,” the Knight said, his voice deep and wrong. Something unnatural lurked beneath it.

“Never,” I rasped, my voice tight and strained against the crushing grip around my throat. My airway was nearly blocked.

His head tilted slightly.

Then he hurled me into the dirt.

Pain exploded through my ribs as his boot slammed into my back.

“Then you die,” he said coldly.

And in that moment, the decision was made.

I would never call them back. Never surrender the eye. Not if they tortured me. Not if they tore me apart piece by piece.

A strange grief filled me then. Deep. Crushing. Not for myself, though I didn’t understand that yet.

“Tell them to bring me the eye.”

“No,” I spat, blood filling my mouth.

The Knight drew his sword. Slowly. Deliberately. His gauntleted hand wrapped around the pommel as steel hissed free from its sheath.

Ready to end me.

Through the runes, I sent one final message to Jor.

“I’m down.”

Once I died, command would pass to him.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, closing my eyes as I braced for the killing blow.

Everything slowed.

Then chaos erupted.

A storm of black wings slammed into the Knight. Talons tore into steel as a screech split the night. The force ripped him off me and hurled him skyward.

I hit the ground hard, gasping for breath.

Jor crashed beside me and immediately launched himself at the second Knight, blasting him backward with a surge of power. Zahya appeared at his side and together they drove the Knight down beneath steel and blue flame.

And then the mountain broke open.

The dragyn exploded from the stone in a deafening roar of fire and fury. Rock shattered beneath its claws as it tore free of the mountain, wings unfurling across the night sky. Massive. Endless. Lit by the flame f the burning trees around us, and the burning heart of the mines below.

Every battle stopped.

Everyone watched.

Skaerynd flooded the skies above as two more Vyres arrived to reinforce us. For one fleeting moment, it looked like we might turn the tide.

Then the dragyn screamed again.

I looked wildly for the eye.

Jor had it.

No. Zahya.

She sprinted toward me while Jor held the last Knight at bay.

“Go, Lyrra,” she shouted, shoving the satchel against my chest. “Fly. Fast. We’ll hold them.”

I pressed my hand to my runes, calling for Feyre.

She was close. I could feel her.

I didn’t wait.

I ran.

Straight into the blazing forest.

A platoon of D’ral broke formation and came after me, crashing through the forest in pursuit.

I weaved between towering birch, poplar, and balsam, as they burned. My lungs filling with ash and smoke. Burned branches whipped against my face and armor. Covered my face in soot.

The cliffs were ahead.

Men shouted behind me.

Closer.

I pushed harder. Every muscle screamed in protest, but I forced myself faster. Faster still. Thank the Vel’ariin most of my training had been running and endurance.

“Go, Lyrra.”

Another voice echoed through the runes. I didn’t even register whose.

“Fly.”

I burst from the trees and reached the cliff’s edge.

And I didn’t stop.

I leapt.

---

Chapter 19

For one terrible moment, there was nothing beneath me but open air. My legs still ran against emptiness as I dropped into the void.

Then I hit feathers.

Feyre surged beneath me and I grabbed for anything I could reach, saddle straps, feathers, leather. I nearly slipped free as she beat her wings hard, catching us before the fall could take me.

“Good girl,” I gasped, hauling myself into the saddle.

Feyre let out an angry screech.

“I know,” I said breathlessly. “I’m sorry. We’re in it together… now. Fly, Feyre. Fly like the wind.”

And Vel’ar she flew.

Faster than I had ever felt her move.

I pressed low against the saddle, every inch of my body screaming in pain. Knees locked tight. Head lowered. Elbows tucked in close. I ripped free my hood and cloak, shoving my battle braids over one shoulder to cut every ounce of drag possible.

Far in the distance, dawn began to bleed across the horizon. Thin streaks of gold beyond the mountains.

Behind us, the dragyn shrieked.

I looked back just as it launched from the mountain.

One beat of its wings carried it farther than several of Feyre’s combined.

There was no outrunning it.

And atop its back… A Vexari Knight.

My stomach dropped.

So that was what the priests had been doing.

Binding it.

Trying to take control of it.

Dread settled deep in my chest.

Our best chance was to stay low. Weave through the mountains and cliffs where a beast that massive couldn’t maneuver properly. The dragyn would have to fly higher to follow us.

So that was what we did.

Feyre flew like the wind itself. Skimming cliff edges so close that stone shattered beneath her talons and wingbeats. We moved as one, every shift of my body answered by her instinctively. My cues were subtle. Hers even more so.

She knew.

Somehow, she understood exactly what was at stake. She carried us like she was willing to die for it too. For the satchel strapped against my chest. To keep it away from the dragyn and the thing riding it.

A voice crackled through the runes.

“Lyrra, find somewhere to lay low. Wait there. We’re coming.”

I spotted a shallow cave cut into the cliffside and yanked Feyre’s reins. She angled sharply, claws scraping rock as she fought to slow enough to dart inside.

We landed hard near the edge.

Feyre’s chest heaved beneath me as hard as my own. She was exhausted. I couldn’t push her much farther. Much harder. Not without it costing us both.

But we were running out of cliffs.

Beyond Xolari’s ridges there was only sea. Endless open water stretching for miles. And over open sky like that, we had no chance of outrunning a dragyn that size.

We couldn’t turn back toward the battle either.

The dragyn screeched overhead.

Feyre ducked deeper into the cave.

We waited.

Every second stretched into an eternity in that small space between survival and death. Adrenaline burned through my veins alongside fear and dread. The mission. The eye strapped against my chest felt unbearably heavy, not in weight, but in spirit. Its power pulsed through the satchel in waves of cold energy and hollow nothingness.

I reached up and patted Feyre’s head.

As if she understood, she leaned into my touch.

I tried not to think about what it meant.

That this might be our final farewell. Our final ride.

She deserved more than an ending like this. More than fear and fire and running for our lives through the dark.

But this was the life we had been given.

I could only hope we had made it far enough for the other Raiths to reach us.

The thought stole the breath from my lungs, and I needed every last one of them to survive this final stretch.

Then came the heavy thud of claws on stones above us.

I cursed low.

It had found us.

There was only one option left.

If we couldn’t outrun it… we had to outfly it.

Higher.

Skaerynd were bred for altitude. They flew through storms. Above clouds. Higher than most creatures could survive.

I had to hope the dragyn wasn’t built for the same heights.

And if it was… then we’d go higher still.

My mind flooded with voices through the runes.

“We’re out of time. We’ll go high,” I sent back. “We have no choice.”

“No.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Do what you have to. We’re coming.”

Zayha.

“It’s too high, Lyrra. You won’t survive it.”

I ignored the male voices. I ignored them all.

I dug my heels into Feyre’s sides and she burst from the cave mouth at full speed.

The dragyn roared behind us, fire exploding from its jaws as its serpentine neck twisted to an unnatural angle, trying to drown us in flame. But Feyre stayed low against the cliffs, using the jagged rock walls as cover. Fire scorched stone just above us.

The dragyn lunged from the cliffs with a deafening screech and gave chase.

Feyre darted and weaved through towering rock spires, her wings clipping dangerously close to stone before she launched us out over open water.

Then we climbed.

Up.

Higher and higher.

We weaved, ducked and dodged the dragyn’s fire.

Flew up the clouds. Beyond them.

The dragyn’s screeches echoed behind us as its massive wings beat against the sky hard enough to shake the air itself.

The voices kept coming.

“That’s too high, Lyrra.”

“You’re not meant for those heights.”

“Lyrra… fly.”

“Fly harder. I’ll catch you. I’ll always catch you.”

The dragyn was gaining on us.

The air grew colder. Bitterly cold. Thin. Every breath became a struggle, like trying to breathe through water. Still, we climbed.

I looked down once.

All I could see were Raiths and Skaerynd far below. The dragyn. The Knight upon its back. The sea stretching endlessly beneath all of it. I couldn’t even tell how high we had gone anymore.

So we climbed higher.

The clouds vanished beneath us.

The sky darkened until only the stars remained. Vast. Endless. More brilliant than anything I had ever seen.

It was what I imagined Thalvareth to look like. The realm of the Vel’ariin. The place the Vael’Lorian and Valerion’theil believed their old gods once walked.

It was beautiful.

And there was no air.

My lungs burned. My vision blurred at the edges. My hands froze around the straps of Feyre’s saddle while the other clutched the satchel tight against my chest.

Still we climbed.

Higher.

Higher.

And then… everything stopped.

As though time itself had frozen.

Weightless. Silent. Suspended between sky and nothingness.

A feeling tore through me. Deep. Ancient. Familiar.

Suddenly, I was outside myself.

Watching.

My eyes rolled back and my body went limp in the saddle. Feyre’s body followed, her wings faltering as she dropped from the sky.

The dragyn fell too.

The Knight with it.

All of us hurtling downward like stones cast from the heavens.

Then the satchel loosened.

The eye slipped free.

It landed in my frozen hand, pressed against my chest. Against the gold bands wrapped around my wrist.

They flared to life.

The eye moved.

Not physically. Recognition. Awareness.

And then it melted into my hand.

Into me.

We kept falling.

The wind screamed past. The sea rushed up beneath us.

Black Skaerynd wings streaked past us.

A raith and his Skaerynd banked hard, looping back through the sky to follow our fall. Faster and faster they dove until he was nearly on me.

His Skaerynd’s talons locked onto my waist just as the sea rushed closer. Black Skaerynd wings tore through the storm of bodies and sky as we pulled upward above the crashing sea below.

The rider screamed as he hauled back on the reins, fighting the momentum of the fall.

Then the dragyn hit the water.

The impact unleashed a tidal wave monstrous enough to swallow everything in its path. Raiths. Skaerynd. Ships. Coastline. Entire stretches of land vanished beneath the surge.

And then… cold.

Endless cold water wrapped around me.

Memory and knowing colliding together as though something was dragging me from the sea itself.

And then a voice rang through my mind.

Ancient. Unmistakable.

“You are mine, Lyrraveth.”

---

Chapter 20

I awoke in a room.

I was laid out on a slab of rock. Cold. Hard. Unforgiving. It felt like a cavern of some kind. Not unlike the one in my memories but vastly smaller. I could smell it before I could fully see it. Damp earth. Rot. The stale, heavy musk of stone that had never seen the sun.

My eyes fluttered open.

Every part of me ached. Not the dull kind of pain that fades with time. This was deeper. Like my muscles had been pushed to their breaking point and only barely held together.

I drew in a long breath and let it out slowly.

That was when I noticed it.

The sound of movement. The quiet shuffle of bodies. The breath of others in the dark.

I tried to move. Tested my arms. My legs. Nothing.

I was held down. Bound in place by something I couldn’t see. Something strong. Something alive with power. It pressed into every part of me, wrapped tight around bone and muscle alike.

The darkness. The shadows. Keiyr. All of it.

I remembered so little. Only fragments.

What he had shown me. The flare. The Vexari knights. The talons. The fight. The chase. The height. The fall.

Then nothing.

Nothing but the cold sea.

A single tear slipped from the corner of my eye.

Feyre.

Where was she? What had happened to her? Was she even still alive?

My chest tightened.

And then there was the Eye.

The prison Keiyr had been bound within. Until I fell. Until that breathless moment high above the world, where sky and death met and something in me connected with it. With him.

Where he and I became something else.

Together.

My breath caught.

“Lyrraveth.”

A calm, deep female voice cut through the space. Older. Soft, but steady.

“My name is Drevanya,” she said as she stepped forward. I caught sight of her at the edge of my vision.

She was of medium height and solidly built, strength evident in the way she carried herself. A simple brown linen dress lay beneath a darker hooded robe with long, unadorned sleeves. Her white hair was shaved so close to the scalp she appeared nearly bald.

A broad gold plate necklace rested against her chest, thick cuffs circling both wrists.

Her ears tapered into fine, sharp points. Vyeth. Several rings lined the edges of them.

Her eyes were piercing gold and green, steady and assessing as they took me in. Her lips were stained deep red, and large round earrings caught the low light as she moved.

“I am a Watcher of the Vale. Do you know what that is, child?”

I shook my head.

“I am a keeper of knowledge. It is my role to understand. To archive. To hold knowledge of the ancient and powerful from the kingdoms Vael’Lorian and Valerion’theil. So that I may know whatever is needed to aid the Vye’Raiths in their cause.”

I nodded, slowly.

“We have you in a paralysis of sorts. The rite which was performed on you holds you in a state of awareness but your body, your power is held in suspension.” Her voice sharpened slightly. “Tell me, Lyrra. How did you come to possess the power that rages against your bonds?”

I drew in a breath, forcing myself not to hold it. I let it out, slowly. Swallowed hard.

Something deep in me knew what the truth would cost.

If I told them… this would be my life. Suspended. Studied. Contained. For Vel’ariin knows how long. Maybe forever.

The power inside me surged, furious. The shadows lashed against the power that held me, clawing at the unseen force wrapped tight around my body. It felt like a cage made of breath and life, made for me and me alone.

Like I was some rare anomaly.

Pinned down and displayed. Dangerous.

A scream tore from my throat.

Steel answered it.

The sharp, unmistakable sound of blades leaving their scabbards echoed through the cavern. More than one.

Raiths. Armed. Ready.

The darkness within me struck again, pushing against the bindings. It met something immovable. Something ancient.

Nothing gave.

My body sagged back against the stone, trembling, spent.

“You cannot break that which holds you,” Drevanya said. “This binding rite is old. Ancient. Of the same power that lives within you, Lyrra.”

I said nothing. My jaw locked tight.

“We have you surrounded. You are deep within one of our oldest fortresses.”

Hollowward.

“Thousands of Vye’Raiths have been called here.” She paused. “Escape is not possible.”

Dammit.

My thoughts went straight to Andi.

My lips parted before I could stop myself.

“The girl,” I managed, my voice rough. “Is she safe?”

“The girl?” Drevanya glanced to her left. One of the Raiths stepped in close and whispered something to her.

“Ah.” Her tone shifted, just slightly. Softer. “Yes. She is with us. She is safe. We will tend to her wounds and help her in her rehabilitation.”

Relief hit me so hard it hurt.

Drevanya studied me for a long moment.

“So,” she said quietly, “you are still in there, Lyrraveth Qinniceros.”

A pause.

My name. My full name.

Something in me recognized it instantly. Not just heard it, but felt it. Deep and certain.

That was my name.

“Do you remember me?”

I shook my head.

“Hm.”

“We believe a number of things are happening here, Lyrraveth,” Drevanya said. “You have somehow bonded with the Eye of Veraketh. How, we are still trying to understand.”

She stepped closer, her gaze never leaving me.

“The Eye of Veraketh is of Vael’Lorian and Valerion’theil origin. You are of men. By all known truths, you should not be able to wield its power.”

A pause.

“And yet… here you are. Doing so. Or attempting to do so.”

My chest tightened.

“So either you concealed the Eye and acquired some form of great Vel’ar power in the time since…” she continued, “or it is working through you.”

Her eyes flicked to my arm.

“We believe it is the only thing keeping you from being torn apart. Perhaps the only thing keeping you alive.”

Her voice lowered slightly.

“Your arm looks like the last part of you that is still… dead.”

Still dead.

I had died. Vel’ar.

Keiyr.

He was keeping me alive. Or bringing me back to life.

But why?

“All accounts we have of Flare Veyre Black say you perished in a great fall.”

“Do you remember?”

I nodded, slow, distant. Still trying to hold onto everything she was saying.

“You flew too high, Lyrra. Too high for a body such as yours to survive. The air thinned. Then vanished. You lost consciousness.”

And I remembered the feeling.

The cold. The breath leaving me, then gone entirely. The weightlessness.

That place where the stars met the clouds.

Her voice softened, just barely.

“And then you fell.”

“You fell from too great a height. Too fast.” Her voice wavered, just for a moment. She cleared her throat, steadying herself. Around us, I heard others do the same.

Had they known me?

Had I known them?

Another tear slipped free, cold against my skin as it traced down my temple, along my ear, and onto the stone beneath me.

Drevanya continued.

“You could not have survived that fall. Nor what came after.”

She paused again.

“When the D’ragyn struck the water, the impact sent up a wave large enough to wipe out a third of the Xolari coastline. You and your Skaerynd, Feyre, were caught in it.”

Feyre.

My chest ached.

I had caused her death.

“In our assessment of you, we’ve also discovered that several spells have been worked into you. Very old. Crude in some ways. Ancient in others.”

She paused, choosing her words carefully.

“Some are broken. Others are barely holding.”

Her gaze lingered on me.

“It’s all a tangled weave of things we don’t yet understand. A tapestry of magicks we cannot fully trace.”

Another pause.

“And no clear answers as to how you came to possess this power. Why you have no memories and what we should do with you.”

Her gaze hardened.

“We need the answers to these questions. Your life depends on it. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Who performed these spells?”

I shook my head. I didn’t know. I couldn’t remember.

“But you did bond with the Eye?”

I tried to nod again. Forced my body to respond.

Nothing.

The effort burned through me.

Drevanya watched closely, something like understanding flickering across her face.

“I see,” she said softly. “You cannot answer. Or speak of the Eye.”

I nodded. Barely.

She studied me like I was the greatest mystery she had ever uncovered. And her greatest sorrow.

“It possesses you, girl.” She arched a brow. Not a question. A fact.

I drew in a breath and let it out slowly.

“Can you control it?”

I nodded.

I had to have some control. Even a sliver of it. Otherwise Keiyr would have taken over completely, wouldn’t he?

Maybe that was what the spellwork was for.

Holding him. Containing him. Burying him beneath my own skin.

I had no memory of any of it. None beyond what he had shown me.

But I remembered his words.

You tried to hide from me.

What did that mean?

How could I have hidden from him… when he was a part of me?

“Why can’t you do so now?”

I forced the words out through clenched teeth.

“The bindings.”

Keiyr was like a caged animal. Ancient. Terrifying. He would not relinquish control while he was bound like this.

I didn’t know how I knew that. I just did.

The same way I knew my own body. My own mind.

Most of the time.

He was fear. Death. Rage.

Right now, he was all of it in its purest form. Shadowed vengeance given shape through me.

“We cannot remove them. Do you understand why?”

I nodded again.

“Lyrra, listen to me.” Her voice cracked, breaking through the calm she had held until now. There was something desperate in it. Something I felt deep in my chest. “They are convening a tribunal. They will decide your fate. What comes next…”

She stepped closer.

“… rests in my hands. I need something from you. Anything that helps me save you. Save you from being locked away in the deepest pit on this continent. Prisons that have held all manner of cursed objects and deadly things for centuries.”

Her voice dropped.

“They will keep you there until the end of days. Do you understand?”

I nodded, fighting the tears threatening to spill.

“Release me,” I whispered. “Please.”

“Lyrra…” Drevanya said, pain threading through her voice. “I cannot.”

She held my gaze.

“Show me you can control it. Show me that you have power here. That you are not merely a host to something that could unmake everything.”

I tried. I truly did.

But there was nothing left.

I couldn’t fight him. I couldn’t reach past the bindings. I couldn’t take control.

Drevanya watched me for a long moment, as if willing me to move. To speak. To give her anything.

When I couldn’t, she let out a slow breath.

Then she nodded.

And I slipped under.

Pulled down into a deep, waiting dark.

******

I woke again. The cavern was empty.

No.

I felt him before he made a sound. Someone was in the cavern. Watching me.

He was alone. Alone with me in the dark.

Somewhere in the distance, water dripped. Slow. Steady. Echoing off stone.

That was when I noticed it.

The absence.

I wasn’t thirsty. I wasn’t hungry. I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t even anxious.

I needed nothing. Wanted nothing.

Was it the binding?

“Yes.”

The voice cut clean through the dark. Deep. Controlled.

His footsteps followed, slow and deliberate as he approached.

“The bindings are keeping you in a suspended state, just as Drevanya said. You could remain like this for decades. They will hold you exactly as you are. Untouched. Unmoving. Under their control.”

He drew closer.

“Needing nothing, yet still alive.” A pause. “A terrible kind of torture, if you are awake. A mercy, if you are kept in dreamless sleep.”

This is how that dragyn was kept in that chamber. I would suffer the same fate.

“I imagine you wish to experience neither one of those fates,” he continued as he drew closer still.

I caught his scent.

Night air. Rain. Earth.

And beneath it, something warmer. Something unmistakably male. Something wild.

If I hadn’t been bound so tightly by bindings and spellwork, I might have reacted to it.

All I could do was watch him from the edge of my vision as he stepped into view, leaning over me.

So close, now. Too close.

His face hovered above mine.

He was… beautiful.

Tan skin. Dark hair, tousled and curling. Cropped shorter than most males wore it. Eyes so deep a brown they were almost black, flecked with gold. His ears tapered slightly, marking him as Eerynian. Black markings traced up his neck and along his hands like living ink.

His lips were soft, full. His lashes dark and long.

“Do you remember me, Lyrraveth?” he asked quietly, searching my face.

I searched his in return.

I didn’t answer. Not because I couldn’t.

Because I didn’t know.

He let out a sharp breath and stepped back, disappearing from my view.

I closed my eyes, feeling the sudden absence of his warmth. Only then did I realize how close he had been. How much of me had felt him.

When he returned, his expression was tighter. More controlled.

“My name is Tayrahn Illyvaris,” he said, his voice flat as the stone beneath me. “I am Warden of the Windborne. Third Vyre of the Vye’Raiths of the Ascended Legion.”

Vel’ariin.

It was him.

The one the Ghost Talon spoke of.

Fear curled through me.

And something else. Something sharper. Almost amused.

I understood Skara’s obsession now.

It wasn’t misplaced.

He was… formidable.

The kind of man you never wanted to stand against.

If you had any choice in the matter.

“High Command is convening as we speak,” he said. “Someone has spoken on your behalf. The leader of the Ghost Talon, Lagna. She claims you have control. That she saw it. Watched you harness it. Watched you fight.”

He paused, studying me.

“She said it was only when you were overcome by extreme rage, by impossible circumstances, that you lost it.”

I nodded.

“The rite I performed on you at the Keep in Feren Hill was crude,” he continued. “Sloppy, if I’m being honest. But, it held you. It did what it needed to in the moment.”

His gaze hardened slightly.

“But it is nothing compared to what you are held in now.”

A beat.

“You need to control your power. Do you understand?”

I nodded again.

“I am going to release you. Then, bind your wrists only,” he said. “You will be brought before the council of High Wardens. You will speak to High Command on your own behalf.”

I nodded again.

He glanced to his left.

At once, several Raiths entered the cavern, swords drawn. Others followed with bows already pulled taut.

I drew in a breath.

Willing Keiyr to stay quiet. To stay buried. The way he had for three long years.

The binding released.

My body slackened as the pressure vanished.

Then it hit.

A sharp wave of nausea.

Pain flooded in all at once. Worse than I had realized. Every inch of me ached.

Hunger. Thirst. Desire. Anger.

All of it crashed over me in a single, overwhelming surge.

I forced myself upright with a strained, labored motion and was met with a hand. His hand. Warden Illyvaris. Rough, strong. Covered in veins, scars and markings.

He reached for my left wrist, the one bound in golden thread. His fingers closed around it. Instinct took over. I yanked it back.

I cleared my throat. Tried to speak.

“Do you know me?” The words came out rough, like I had been screaming for hours.

“I do,” he said, slow and measured.

“You are Warden Qinniceros. You led the Fourth Vyre. The Black Wake.”

“I was… I was a Warden. Like you?”

“You sound surprised.” There was a hint of smugness there. A smirk that followed, meant to charm. To disarm.

I fought the urge to smile back.

As I drew in another breath, I pressed a hand lightly to my chest. Grounding myself.

“I am,” I said. “I just… I can’t remember most of it.”

He nodded. “Lagna told us. Your memory was lost. Have you regained anything?”

“Only pieces,” I said. “I remember the end of the flare veyra Black. Parts of it. Not all.”

He took my hands in his. The motion was gentler than it needed to be. Careful. It sent a flicker of sensation along my nerves.

I drew in a breath.

He didn’t react to my response. If he noticed it at all, he didn’t show it.

“So you remember,” he said, exhaling sharply as he drew my hands together in front of me. He wrapped them in a strip of red cloth, marked with sigils and runes. “Taking on two Vexari knights. Alone. At the mines.”

I nodded.

“Is that… against some rule?” I asked.

“It is no rule,” he said. “It is simply known. You do not face Vexari knights alone. Ever. Not even with an entire Vyre behind you. It is almost always death. For you and for your Raiths.”

I swallowed, then cleared my throat.

“I was brash,” I said. “Driven by the outcome.”

“So you remember.”

This time, it wasn’t a question.

“I remember that,” I said quietly. “And fragments. Parts of my childhood. What happened to my family.”

He nodded once.

“None of us became Raiths because of happy childhoods.”

I wondered at his story, what he had survived to be here. So high in rank.

He guided me to the edge of the stone slab. My legs slid over, dangling until my feet touched the ground.

He began speaking in Eerynian. Low. Repetitive. The words wound around my wrists like threads I couldn’t see.

I felt the binding settle into place. Softer than the last. But no less real.

“Come.”

He held out his hand.

I took it.

He helped me down from the stone, then released me almost immediately. Turning, he led the way out of the cavern and toward a winding staircase.

Coming Soon!