Chapter 28
Keir
Something isn’t right.
I wake up in my room and look around. The silk sheets are cool against my skin, the familiar stone walls of Blackhaven rising around me. I’m home—but it doesn’t feel like home. That oppressive weight of Raven’s dragoness, the constant pressure that hums against my senses like a second heartbeat, is missing. Dimmed. Muffled, as if someone had wrapped it in thick wool and shoved it into a box.
My chest tightens with unease.
I leave my room and follow the scent of coffee down the corridor, my bare feet padding silently against the cold stone. The guys are all in the kitchen, slumped over the massive oak table like survivors of a battlefield. Because we are. Raven was ravenous during the days of her heat—insatiable in ways that pushed all five of us to our absolute limits. My muscles ache with a bone-deep exhaustion I haven’t felt since my first shift. I catch my reflection in the dark window and barely recognize myself. Hollow cheeks. Shadows bruising the skin beneath myeyes. I dropped weight—a lot of it—and by the looks of my bond brothers; they did too.
Finlay’s usually bright eyes are dull, his phoenix fire banked low. Corvus hasn’t bothered to hide the dark circles under his eyes. Hemlocke’s obsidian hair has lost some of its luster, and even Solaris—steady, unshakeable Solaris—looks like he aged a decade in the span of a week.
“Has anyone seen Raven?” I accept a cup of coffee from Hemlocke, the ceramic warm against my palms. The bitter aroma curls into my nose, grounding me. “The nest feels off.”
The kitchen goes dead silent.
All eyes focus on me. The weight of their stares presses against my skin like a physical thing. Steam rises from my mug in lazy spirals, the only movement in the suddenly frozen room.
“Nae…” Solaris looks around and closes his eyes. I watch the orange scales rise through his skin, pushing up along his forearms like embers surfacing through ash. His jaw tightens. “She’s dampened the bond.”
The mug he was holding slips from his fingers. It shatters against the stone floor, coffee splashing across the tiles in a dark stain, but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look down. He just stares at me with those ancient golden eyes, and I feel my blood turn to ice.
“The implant’s failed…” His voice is rough, strained. “She’s gone tae ground.”
The words hang in the air like a death knell.
“We need Thauglor.” Corvus’s voice cuts through the ringing silence.
I don’t hesitate. I vanish within seconds, the world folding in on itself as I slip through the in-between. The familiar sensation of non-existence wraps around me—cold and empty, like swimming through a void where light and sound don’t exist. Then reality snaps back into place, and I’m standing in the neutral living room of the Sovereign nest.
“Thauglor!” My voice echoes off the vaulted ceilings, bouncing between pillars of carved dragon glass. “Thauglor!”
I yell several more times, each shout more desperate than the last, until he finally emerges from the shadows of the far corridor. His massive frame fills the doorway, black hair disheveled, sapphire eyes sharp with alarm.
“What’s wrong?” He crosses the distance between us in three strides and grabs my shoulders. His grip is iron, his palms searing hot against my skin.
I don’t answer. I just blink us through the in-between, dragging him back to Blackhaven’s neutral living room in a heartbeat.
He wobbled for several moments when we arrived, one hand pressed to the wall for balance. His nostrils flare as he scents the air, his head swiveling as he takes in the space. Recognition flickers across his features—followed immediately by dread.
Raven is nowhere to be found.
“Where’s Raven?” The question starts as a growl and ends as a roar that shakes dust from the rafters. “You had one fucking job!” He rounds on us, and I feel the pressure of his dragon slam into the room like a physical force. The air grows thick, hard to breathe. His eyes burn with barely contained fury as he searches our faces for answers.
Solaris steps forward, positioning himself between me and the enraged dragon warrior. His voice remains steady, calm—a balm against the storm of Thauglor’s rage.
“Auld friend, I believe the implants failed. Yer daughter’s gone tae ground.” He doesn’t flinch beneath that terrible gaze. “From what I remember, it is nae safe tae approach her. What can ye tell us aboot black dragonesses when they’re wi’ egg?”
I watch the color drain from Thauglor’s face.
He staggers backward as if Solaris had struck him, his legs hitting the edge of an armchair. He collapses into it, the leather groaning beneath his weight. His eyes dart around the room—searching, calculating, afraid—before settling back on Solaris.
“Do you know if she’s here or in the oasis?” His tone is worried. Almost fearful. The war dragon of the Sovereign Nest, one of the most powerful beings in existence, sounds terrified.
“We only figured it out a few seconds before I got you.” I offer the words like a peace offering, though I know they bring no comfort.
Finlay presses a fresh cup of coffee into Thauglor’s trembling hands. He wraps his fingers around it, knuckles white, and takes a deep sip. The silence stretches, broken only by the quiet sounds of breathing and the distant drip of water somewhere in the tunnels below.
