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Rymedur stroked a stray strand of hair sticking to Areanel’s temple. The sweat beading along her brow had his own pinching with worry. Her temperature continued to rise, and with her fitful sleep, Rymedur worried she was catching an illness.

He redirected the conversation, if only to distract himself. ‘What about you?’ Turning his attention to Vasilio, Rymedur praised, ‘I heard you’re an excellent tracker.’

Ignoring the compliment—which seemed entirely unlike him, based on what Rymedur knew—Vasilio corrected him. ‘No. Rea doesn’t create from nothing. Like your shadows, the magic is already there. An old tale says when the Elvadora walked amongst us, their power seeped from them in waves.’

‘Ina—’ Rymedur interrupted him. ‘My mother, I mean. I remember her telling me that when I was younger. She used to say that everything in this world was a gift. That even plants could heal because of what the Elvadora had left behind. I remember her saying that the gods’ power was too great to be carried in their immortal forms, that it fell from them with every step, soaking into the ground they walked upon. Their very essence vibrates in the air around us—in the veins of the undergrowth, the roots of trees and the very marrow of our world.’

‘Yes!’ Vasilio’s gestures became more erratic, excited. ‘It is said that Ikarus stone is evidence of this.’ Putting his elbows on his knees, Vasilio leant forward and in a low tone, as though he was sharing a secret, said, ‘There was only one place the gods did not venture, and that was into the heart of the mountains. They’d gifted the mountain ranges to the dragons they had created, who chose to rule on their own terms. They didn’t want to disrespect the dragons, who are dangerous and prideful creatures—’ Vasilio’s eyes shuttered for a moment. ‘Or at least were,’ he corrected.

Shaking his head, Vasilio’s unruly curls resembled the flickering flames. Rymedur’s shadows pulled, tugging at the bond in an attempt to get his attention. But then Vasilio spoke, and Rymedur found himself enraptured. ‘That is why many cannot draw from the Ikarus stone; it siphons power, leaving them immobile. Powerless.’

‘My mother didn’t tell me that.’ Rymedur focused on the way the kindling withered as he stoked the fire.

‘She wouldn’t have known. Not many do—and for good reason.’

‘Then how do you?’

‘The Pit.’ Rymedur hadn’t noticed the subtle shift beside him, but his head turned that way now. Areanel’s voice was groggy, still full of sleep as she continued. ‘The prison was carved into Ikarus stone.’ Rubbing her eyes, she moved to stretch her aching muscles, triggering a yawn. ‘Its walls sing with the power it consumes.’

Rymedur’s breath hitched, his heart stuttering as she retold the horrors. Areanel did not speak about her time in The Pit.

‘Only a few have managed to fashion weapons from the stone—obsidian black, forged by dragon fire.’

Obsidian black blades. Forged by dragon fire. Consumes.

The words repeated themselves like an echo through Rymedur’s mind. His fingers subconsciously inched towards his scythe. Could it be?

No. That was impossible. The blade had been a gift.

‘There are no dragons left. So, no one can make more, right?’ The last weapon had fallen with Prince Ivan. Rymedur had witnessed it himself. When no one answered, he said, ‘My ina said that magic can be imbued—taken from one source and fashioned into another. Is that what it’s like for you?’

‘Your mother wasn’t wrong. It’s how we access our abilities.’ Vasilio answered, but Rymedur noted that he’d dodged his question yet again. Did they know something about the dragons that he did not?

‘Take Rea, for example,’ Vasilio continued, gesturing towards Areanel with the twig he now idly twirled. The redheaded male couldn’t ever seem to sit still, reminding Rymedur of their daughter. Aurora also found it difficult to not be constantly on the move, usually fidgeting with something. ‘Rea’s abilities are stronger because she is more in tune with the world around her. She can open that window inside her soul and feel the warmth of energy within. It allows her to draw on that power and fashion it into anything she wants. The scholars we learned under often told us that our powers manifest based on who we are at our core.’

Beside Rymedur, Areanel shifted, seemingly uncomfortable.

‘But I think it’s more than that,’ he added, his excitement clear. ‘I think it’s something more—like the gods. Intrinsic. Something that has to do with more than just our personalities, beliefs, morals or wants. I think…’ Vasilio dropped his voice to a whisper, and his wide smile made him seem more boyish. ‘It has to do with our very beings.’ He tapped a finger against his chest. ‘Our souls.’

Leaves crunching underfoot had Rymedur instinctively shielding Areanel as he turned towards the sound, but his grip on his scythe lessened when Percival came into view.

‘Oh, don’t get him started!’ Percival kicked out a foot, his boot hitting Vasilio in the back. The hit was playful, jesting. ‘Vas can go on and on about his theories all day long if you let him.’

‘Sorry, I have a hobby I’m very passionate about!’ Vasilio argued, whacking at Percival’s leg half-heartedly. ‘Anyway,’ he turned back to Rymedur, ignoring Percival’s presence altogether. ‘I’m looking into it, but I think I’ll be able to prove my theory one day. I’m close. I know it!’

The determination that blazed in his eyes seemed like an inferno. Rymedur had no doubt that whatever happened, Vasilio would do that one day—he would make it his mission to prove the old scholars wrong.

‘Right, enough of that.’ Percival dumped the firewood he had gathered, letting the logs thud to the ground as he dusted off his hands. ‘Who wants to take first watch?’

The darkness moved—slithering back and forth like a living thing. Brushing against his calf, the shadows felt vile. Cruel. Cold. Callous. Nothing like the soft phantoms to which he had grown accustomed.

Dark, gruesome shadows shifted in the corner of his eye, and Rymedur swore under his breath, but the sound was swallowed by the void. There was no beginning and no end to the eternal abyss.

Where were the others?

Rymedur’s frantic eyes darted to the side, but Areanel was nowhere to be seen. Turning in a circle, Rymedur tried to regain his bearings. She had been resting next to him. Again, the shadows snapped in the corner of his eyes.

This was no natural darkness.