I bottle a scream, convulsing through the sear of pain.
Once I’m certain the wound is cauterized, I drop my hand and pull a wobbly breath. Gag on the potent reek of fried flesh.
I pocket the precious weald and fumble for my blade. Gripping the hilt, I tip my head against the stone and wait—determined to slaughter anything that tries to eat me. Even if I survive to see the aurora ribbons rise again, it’s time for the winds to change.
For the Mists to drift close.
For me to get a message to Kaan without dying first. Who knows what problems will arise once my soul leaves this body. How hard it’ll be to pass my knowledge on.
To tell my brother that he has a daughter.
I can’t give back the precious lives I’ve taken, nor can I mend the kingdom I doomed, but I can do this.
I can make this right.
Another distant howl scuttles across my skin.
I swing my head right and scan my surroundings, stilling as my gazenarrows on a dark hollow tucked in a jagged crevice at the foot of the mountain ranges. Most likely one of the many long-forgotten entrancesto the ancient labyrinth beneath, shaped before folk learned how to sculpt aboveground cities with cleaner air and better access to our bonded dragons.
A hitch of hope snags my breath.
If I can make it into that tunnel, I’ll be sheltered until the Mists move close again. Less of a target for circling predators.
With a few teeth-gritted maneuvers, I get the cloak back up over my bloody shoulder, pull on my glove, and tug my hood down over my face. Then I shove to my feet and make for the cave—each heavy step shafting spears of pain up my legs, into my hips.
Even at my quickest, it’s little more than a limping jog.
The sharp wind bites through my clothing, making me ache all over, my organs shaking. As though someone has my spine in their fist, jolting me from the inside out.
The world wobbles beneath me …
I trip face-first into the hard-packed snow. The blow of pain radiating through my shoulder suggests I’ve torn the freshly cauterized wound even before the seep of blood begins to warm my chest—heat rushing from my veins, gushing out the hole.
Another howl rips my heart up my throat.
With a surge of unnatural strength, I heave to my feet and gouge through the snow. My gusty surrounds blur as I focus on planting sturdy steps, bringing me closer to the promise of safety.
The back of my neck prickles with the sense that something isright behind me—
I launch into the pitched cave, landing so hard and heavy all the air punches from my seizing lungs.
I roll, chest jerking with each failed battle for breath. Watch in vulnerable horror as three large crowls gallop across the plains, powering toward me with their jagged teeth bared, kicking up bursts of snow.
They swallow the space between us while I take in their skeletal forms and frosted eyes, the beasts busting against one another in the rush to funnel into the cave and claim the kill.
I finally heave a breath. Blast it free with a single sentence that grates my throat on the way up, coming out like a spit of stone.
“Gerg-agh tah vú!”
Bulder snaps the cave shut with such force it reminds me of a dragon’s maw clamping down, enclosing me in the faint smell of dust and soot and a darkness so thick it’s like I’m clapped between bricks of dried ink.
That, and a bone-aching silence.
I fumble for Kaan’s weald. Manage to open the lid and release the flame as adifferentdarkness begins to encase me—cold.
Hungry.
The sort that suggests I’ve lost too much blood.
