Page 76 of Ashen Wings

“The Blightfangs nest in these creepy back woods?” I snip, narrowly avoiding a gnarled root jutting from the path.

“This is the only trail to their hatching grounds.” His tone is quiet, calm, like he could care less whether he’s leading me to the egg or my murder. I suck in a breath and follow, but my hand never wavers from the dagger sheathed to my hip.

“Where are Isra and Roe?”

“Dealing with something in the city. They’ll be back for dinner,” he replies. I haven’t seen Isra since last night, and that confrontation is a knot in my stomach.

We travel in silence, passing rotten stumps and gurgling brooks. The air out here is lighter, fresher. It coats my lungs with a crisp, wild taste that’s as ancient and vast as the cosmos. The sun apexes the sky when finally, we reach a clearing, greeted by Tenebris in his human form. The dragon leans against a large oak tree with his arms crossed.

“Gods, I forget how slow humans are on foot.” He sighs and kicks off the trunk. A frown takes root on his pale lips. “What did my rider do this time?”

Jace’s jaw ticks, but he says nothing, keeping his gaze fixed on the trail beyond us.

“He shifted in front of you, didn’t he?” Tenebris sighs. “Considering his silence, I’m assuming that didn’t go well.”

“No, it didn’t,” I reply. The dragon’s brow furls and he falls into step beside us.

“The magic is not his own, and so I, too, must apologize, little thing.”

“I would prefer not to speak of it.” I cross the grotto and trail Jace.

“I see…” Tenebris muses.

Daylight filters through the wooded canopy, sending beams dancing along the mossy floor. A path, marked by weathered stones, stretches into the distance and curls around a sloping hillside. The growls of Blightfang younglings flitter in the chilled breeze as we walk, still in silence.

For five hundred years of wisdom, Tenebris is pretty damned quiet.

“The hatching grounds are through these caves, but please mind your footing. My mate can be…wary of humans.”

Tenebris’s mate? Part of me feels like an idiot for expecting the hatching grounds to be vacant. Of course there will be female Blightfangs, especially during their nesting season. Just because the continent hasn’t seen the breed, doesn’t mean they don’t exist.

My father’s tomes provided some information about Blightfangs, albeit sparse. Like Crimsonclaws, they prefer the cooler temperatures to raise their younglings, but besides a few lines of handwritten research, not much is known.

“Do you have younglings of your own, Tenebris?” I ask, following the curve of the forest. Jace outpaced us around the last bend, and now he’s a speck on the trail ahead. Good. I can’t bear to walk beside him. Not when those taloned, midnight fingers still scratch at my thoughts with unwavering strength.

“Not yet, but Niaxa and I have three eggs. The first in three hundred years since she accepted me as her mate.” Tenebris puffs like a proud father, ready to meet his younglings.

“That’s wonderful,” I say.

His wide grin, revealing those rows of teeth, has me tripping over a fallen branch.

We follow the trail for another mile, winding through rocky grottos and settled brush. The air blankets us with a promise of magic—cosmic, eternal, and darker than the deepest voids.

In silence, we slip through a cave, carved into the rocky hillside. Mineral deposits drip from the ceiling like icicles frozen in time. The darkness here devours us, but I’m seemingly the only one affected. Tenebris laces his hands behind his back and skips between fractured rock and glowing crystal, as unbothered as if we’d gone on a morning stroll through the garden’s hedge maze. King Broody trudges ahead, marking the path with memorized steps.

“You know, Nova, my rider is haunted by his own demons. He may have told you about my magic, but there is much still you’ve yet to learn,” Tenebris says, offering a soft smile.

I nod, but Jace’s soulless eyes keep me in a chokehold. The lies, the concealed truths, all of it will come to light soon. Either I’ll be eaten by Blightfangs, or I’ll bear witness to an egg that shouldn’t exist.

“Who is Samkiel, Tenebris? Isra said he was heir to the Ashen throne, but as far as I know Magnius Ashar has no children.”

The dragon’s lips part. “That question is far more complicated to answer, little thing. Samkiel Ashar is an illegitimate heir. The crown’s dirty little secret hidden amongst high ranking officers. He was once an ally to us here, but things change as they’re accustomed to do. Perhaps my rider will tell you his history, perhaps not, but it’s best to keep from leaping into flames without being prepared for the resultant burns.”

“That’s entirely not helpful.” I sigh and follow him closely. There’s so much still kept from me, but do I truly blame them? I’m an imposter, a stranger to these lands. Perhaps I’ve assimilated into Isra’s circle, but Roe and Jace are evidence enough that I’m still an outcast. My role here is a transaction, and nothing more. That hurts more than I’d like to admit.

Finally, light trickles in from the other side, washing the cavern in glorious daylight shades.

“We’re here. Stay close.” Tenebris breaks me from my thoughts.