A low growl scraped out of my chest, stubbornly resisting the voice in my head. “This should be mine.”
The wards shimmered faintly in the air, an invisible wall drawn tight around Lyoness. They hummed like a threat,but it hung hollow. I sensed weakness. They were originally meant to protect drakens. There were too many witches—even bloodwitches—on the island. It was upsetting the balance. Plus, they wouldn’t protect against me,another draken. The wards didn’t like that I was there, but were confused about what to do about it.
I dug my claws into the rock, relishing the scrape.
I was older than any of the drakens below. Perhaps stronger, as well. My bloodline stretched back before they were even conceived. It had to be thus. Why else would I have lived so long and survived everything if I was not the strongest among them? I’d survived countless death matches, the gladiator ring in the fighting pits. Yet now I hovered above and outside like a mangy stray, watching them build lives within walls not meant for me.
I remembered this island before. I was very sure I’d been born here. It had been different, then. Something terrible had happened that I barely remembered—heat, fire, and brimstone. Then water, and afterwards nothing but darkness and pain and men with whips and chains.
It had to have been a dream. There was no volcano here, just empty rock.
I’d shown them in the end.
I’d tried finding my way home for centuries, only to constantly chase my own wings. I’d found the southern enclave, but their wards were too strong. I’d followed the male draken out here, hoping he’d lead me to more drakens.
He had.
Or rather, the witch’s ship had.
And still, I was stuck on the outside. The sounds within enraged me.
Celebration.
Family.
Warmth.
All stolen from me.
A shape caught my eye, ascending quickly toward me. It was small, swift, and reckless. A ... drakling?
No, not quite. A little female humanoid, maybe two or three years old, climbing the black rock of the dormant volcano with delighted shrieks, her tiny witch claws scraping through sand and stone. Her skin shimmered oddly.
Filthy half-breed.
She laughed as she slipped. The sound stabbed somewhere inside my ribs, unexpected and sharp.
“So. They breed freely here. Too freely,” I grumbled. What would happen to the mighty drakens if they all took witches to bed?
The jealousy burned. I didn’t bother to hide it, even from myself. All I wanted was that for myself—a mate.
The drakling scrambled higher. Too high. The wards shimmered around me, sensing danger. They were weak this far up, stretched thin like worn cloth. I could feel the weak spot from where I crouched. The tear I’d made was waiting to become a fully-fledged hole.
The child reached the jutting ridge of stone stepped too far?—
And slipped.
She flailed, a startled cry tearing through the air. She didn’t have wings to catch herself, and even if she did, they would have been too small for her body. She tumbled hard.
Something came over me at that moment.
The world narrowed.
My muscles moved before thought. Wings snapped open, catching the wind as I lunged upward. The wards crackled when I pierced the weak seam, burning against my scales, but I pushed through.
Her tiny body plummeted.
I caught her against my chest and scooped her up, claws careful—so careful—cradling her as if she were made of smoke. The wards didn’t even sizzle as I crossed them again.
