The urge to wrap my fingers around her neck eased with that glorious vision, and instead I lost myself in a trance invoked by her starlight hair while my darkness combed through it.
I could have kept torturing her to get her to spill the locations, to seek out the key pieces and leave her behind, but her suffering… it wasn’t an indulgence like anyone else’s. Her pain rebounded into me, and I came to the realization it had to be the mating bond.
She once tried to stab me with a pitiful weapon to hurt me, unaware that she needed no steel to accomplish that. Astraea believed I could not hurt, but there was one way I felt my own pain: whenshewas in pain. Maybe once I killed the beating heart in Rainyte’s body I would be free of that wretched weakness.
Until then I tucked back the locks of her hair to see more of her still, peaceful face.
“I want to end you, Astraea Lightborne. All I am is pain, all I know is suffering, and you drown me with your light bright enough to pierce the thickest darkness.”
18Astraea
I suffered five treacherous days of trudging through snow piled up to my knees, each step an act of defiance against the bitter cold cutting like knives through every layer of my clothes. We had climbed deadly mountains, their icy ledges narrow as threads, and crossed endless fringes where the wind howled, tearing at me as if it could pull me back from our goal. By now, my breath was barely mist against the relentless white. Every muscle in my body burned, yet I forced myself to press on.
Nightsdeath, to my irritation, didn’t suffer from the weather and climb, which often soured my mood further.
Finally, through the shimmering veil of snowfall, it finally came into view—a structure that seemed to float against the cliffside, carved out of the rock itself or perhaps out of something rarer, older. It was a temple, unmistakably so, its spires piercing the sky, casting shadows that stretched long and sharply over the snowfield below. The building was both haunting and beautiful, an ancient guardian standing resolute against time and weather, as if waiting for those strong enough to reach it.
The sight stole the breath from my chest but wonder quickly turned to dread twisting in me for what we might face lurking within while we retrieved a piece of the key. As we drew closer, I felt a force pressing down—an invisible hand testing our strength, sensing our motives, judging if we were worthy to even set foot inside.
We had come too far to turn back. And so, with nothing left but my resolve and the promise of what lay within, I tightened my grip on my cloak and took the first step forward, the temple’s shadow stretching coldly across my path.
I kept to Nightsdeath’s side, his darkness a shield against the worst of the weather. At first, I’d tried to keep a little distance, but the closer I was the more tolerable the cold became and so our arms brushed with every step now.
Neither of us gave the closeness any attention, at least not outwardly. Everynow and then I would glance at him and internally sink with the want to link his arm or have him draw his around me like Nyte would. I missed that caring and tender side of him so much the pain was becoming unbearable. At times I wondered if Nightsdeath could feel my sinking despair when, contrary to his unfeeling character, he’d asked at least once a day if I was all right.
“At long last,” he drawled.
I stopped walking halfway across the courtyard, not wanting to let go of the cloak I kept hugged tightly around my body, but I needed my magick. If this temple was like the last, I thought the dragon painting should be under my feet, buried under the thick snow. Though I didn’t have the means to free it—needing Eltanin’s tears—I couldn’t pass without confirming another ancient dragon was wondrously hidden for millennia right here.
“What, pray tell, are you doing?” Nightsdeath asked irritably.
“I just have to see something,” I muttered absentmindedly as I focused on my thoughts. “You might want to step back; it’s about to get a little too bright for your tolerance.”
I shivered violently when his shadows drifted away from me, cursing the wretched cold as I brought my hands up. My magick hummed over my skin with a tingling warmth I welcomed and embraced. A gale of wind and light formed. Pushing my palms down on the ground blasted a wide radius around me that revealed exactly what I hoped to find under the blanket of snow.
Dropping to my haunches, I traced a gloved hand over the blue marks of the magnificent dragon. My first thought was to curse myself for not asking Drystan how many types and colors of dragon there were. Would the blue dragon’s breath be different from Athebyne’s searing red flame or Eltanin’s starry smoke?
I groaned in frustration as I rose since I wouldn’t get to know today.
“Of course,” Nightsdeath said, examining the painting. “I learned of the dragons and their whereabouts from Drystan just before the curse took hold. Why didn’t you mention it?”
“I didn’t think it would be important to you. You want the key, not dragons.”
“Dragons are creatures as old as the gods themselves. Some believe they are gods. An alliance with one is an incredible advantage in battle, never mind over a dozen that could dominate the skies if you free them all.”
“There’s no predicting which side each dragon will choose if they bond with a rider.”
“So why risk freeing them?”
I grazed my fingers over the blue paint. “No creature deserves to be imprisoned.”
Nightsdeath cast his sight toward the temple.
“All we can do is get the key piece right now,” he said.
Unlike the temple in Alisus that was dedicated to my guardians, and where I spoke to them, this one was unguarded by the skeletal forms that didn’t speak. I couldn’t decide if it was a relief or more daunting that Nightsdeath accompanied me inside.
There was no predicting what trial the key would manifest for us to claim a piece of it. We couldn’t devise a plan or prepare; this challenge had to be taken in blind faith. The key was smart and very protective of itself, even from me since I was the one to break it.
