Page 49 of Wings of Destruction

The dragon twists in my head, rising out of the darkness. He gave me space but he’d heard everything.

Your conscience will be the death of you, boy. Dragons don’t suffer from such inconvenient morality.

His voice trails along with my footsteps in the narrow corridor, leading away from the castle and deeper into the mountain. I keep walking, kicking out at nothing.

Then maybe it’s better for you to stop listening when you have better things to do? I bite back.

Strength and power, knowing that another possesses those things, doesn’t take away from the man you want to be. I understand, Kieran. It’s one of the reasons why I chose you. You have a good mind, strong muscle, and a heart with a capacity for greatness.

The statement is accompanied by the telepathic equivalent of a dragon huff and I smile in the gloom, almost feeling the warm air from Mozi’s nostrils.

I heave out a long breath. Then it’s good to know we’re on the same page yet again, my friend.

I turn out of the corridor and glance sharply left and right to make sure no one has followed me. Alone, I press my hand to the slightly off center stone at the center of a mural depicting a dragon’s victory over a forest on fire. The painted swirls of smoke coming from the rendered dragon are much prettier than reality. They’re certainly more fantastic than watching what Omram did to those unicorns and their riders.

The hidden hinges at the edges of the mural creak and the doorway swings open. The corridor beyond is black as pitch. Once the door closes behind me, once I take my first step, flames burst to life in hidden sconces carved from the rock itself.

The cave network wends labyrinthine into the heart of the mountain. Astrid and I meet there often, to talk about plans. To share secrets. To train.

Your disgust for your father and your position changes nothing, Mozi reminds me. Until you can end him⁠—

I know, I interrupt hollowly, forging through the tunnel. I’m still at his beck and call. It’s a game I have to play. One day, I won’t play anymore.

Mozi’s laughter is equally hollow and as loud as the drip of water from deep in the cave. There will always be someone bigger than you.

I like to think it’s my mother’s quiet strength that’s gotten me this far. In my head, I catch a flash of her awkward smile, her lower jaw protruding out slightly more than her upper one from a healed break she’d gotten as a child. But her smile changed everything. It took her from plain and simple with her lopsided chin to stunning.

Her smile lit up even the darkest of nights and cut like the beam of a lighthouse through my awful emotions.

I miss her dreadfully.

You also know what has to be done.

Mozi’s voice is louder now as I get closer to his physical body. He’s on the other side of the stone in the open air. The connection between us is always there but the volume of his thoughts changes depending on our proximity.

I turn sharply when the tunnel splits off into three paths. The familiar trail is one I’ve walked too often to remember. I’d be able to follow it in my sleep.

I know it’s not enough.

Shuck aside your terror. It will be enough, Mozi insists hotly.

Or we’ll get caught.

The possibility is discordant in the face of everything I’m trying to do.

He sighs and, separate from my own disquiet, says, We have a cover story.

We worked hard on one but worry is a permanent part of my internal makeup. The cover story may not be enough and it pays to be prepared.

One day, I’ll kill my father. And I need to be able to pivot my plans based on the type of fallout. It’s impossible to consider every eventuality. I know it.

When the path splits again I take the trail to the left rather than the right. The right will wind even further into the mountain before ending abruptly in open air. That’s where Mozi and I meet, when we need privacy. It’s impossible to scale for any creature without wings and the steep drop ends in sharp teeth of stone ready to devour whatever helpless creature plummets to their gory death.

But the left trail, now…

The tunnel widens into a space diminished only by the spires of rock dripping from the ceiling.

“Well, well.” My lips purse with my perusal. “It’s just as she described.”