Adalinda smiled a toothy smile. “I asked the same thing. He meant none have come here by dying in your world. There have been dragons born here, though not many; this is their natural home. We adapt and evolve, I suppose, even in our version of dragon heaven.”
Below us, Jax and Corvus were working out the last details of the assault, arguing tactics in clipped sentences, no energy wasted. Solenne observed, adjusting the plan by micro-increments, never losing track of the whole. I was fairly sure that Solenne and Corvus were brother and sister. They certainly argued like it.
I let myself feel proud, for just a minute, of the team we’d become in such a short time. Even here, even on the far side ofdeath, the old patterns held. We adapted. We survived. Even in dragon heaven.
9
HAILEY
The morning camein mean and cold, with a wind off the obsidian cliffs sharp enough to take the skin off my knuckles. I was up before the bells, nerves refusing to let me sleep. The east ridge caught the first light, soaking it up like a black sponge, and by the time I reached the sparring ground, Corvus was already waiting, settled into a low crouch that made him look like a fossilized murder machine.
He took up half the plateau even with his wings folded, each claw dug into the basalt as if daring the world to move him. He followed my approach with no pretense of welcome.
“You’re late,” he said, the words hammering straight into my cerebrum with the delicacy of a depth charge.
“It’s three minutes before dawn,” I said, but he ignored it, flicking a talon at the sword strapped to my back.
“Draw.”
I did, unsheathing the blade in a single, practiced motion. The edge caught the light, runes flickering in their secret language, and I wondered if the sword had moods. This morning it feltsullen, heavier than usual, and I fought the urge to test the balance with a flourish. Corvus had made it clear. Showmanship wasn't only wasted on him, it was punishable by immediate, savage correction.
He began with footwork. My job, apparently, was to learn how to move like a dragon while stuck in a human-shaped meat suit, and Corvus’s job was to make sure I didn’t get attached to any one stance, limb, or illusion of safety.
“Pivot. Angle. Commit. Recover. Again.”
His voice lanced through me, every instruction timed to the microsecond. I did as told, planting my left foot, swinging my hips, letting the torque power the blade guide my momentum. The burn started in my thighs, which had begun to shake on the third rep and by now were auditioning for a new career in unlicensed vibration therapy.
He waited until I found a rhythm, then pounced. Literally. The bastard covered fifteen meters in less than a blink, slamming his snout into my guard so hard it nearly knocked the breath out of me. Good thing I was a vampire, and my human form was tougher than, well, a human.
“Dead,” he said, and touched a single claw to my sternum.
“Didn’t even get to attack,” I muttered, but forced my feet to reset.
Corvus didn’t gloat. His whole thing was efficiency. Wasted energy meant death. A complaint meant already dead.
The next round, he swept low, telegraphing the strike so broadly I nearly missed it. I overcommitted, lunged to parry, and the moment I extended, his tail lashed out, thumping my ankle.
“Dead,” he said, as I landed in a graceless sprawl.
Damn it. I scrambled upright, cheeks burning hot, and made a mental note to never,everunderestimate a dragon’s tail. Or ego.
Above us, the wind was alive with dragons. They looped and cut through the cloud bands, three on one, all hammering after a big green fella who, even from here, was unmistakably Jax. I recognized his movements. Quick rolls, hard banks. Even without the bond, I would’ve known it was him.
Every so often, one of his sparring partners would clip his flank or catch him in a shallow dive. He never flinched, just readjusted, claws spread wide, learning on the fly. One of the dragons tried to force him into a stall, but Jax tucked and spun, wings folding in a way that made the others overshoot, and he righted himself clean. If Corvus was watching, he didn’t show it, but the flicker of approval rippled through the telepathic undercurrent, which even though I was in human form, I could still pick up on.
We reset. Corvus signaled for me to attack. I did, using every trick I’d learned, pivoting off the back foot, slashing for the exposed joint at the base of his wing. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink, just let the blade get within a millimeter of his scales and then, with a contemptuous twist, redirected all my momentum.
“Dead.”
Ugh. He was trying to teach me something, but I was too winded and furious to see it yet.
“Again,” he said, and this time I charged without waiting for the count, feinting high and cutting low. He let me get close, almost inside his reach, and for half a heartbeat I thought I had him. Then his paw closed around my wrist, claws retracted butpressure unyielding, and the bones ground together, not quite breaking but definitely promising to if I didn’t yield.
I dropped the blade, flexed my free hand, and tried not to show how much I wanted to scream.
Corvus studied me. “You are slow because you think you have time.Plus, you are thinking too hard. Trust the blade, use your magic to connect with the metal and own it.”
He released me, picked up the sword with two claws, and held it out, tip extended. He waited, staring. I took the sword, gritted my teeth, and set again.
