The next night, I can’t sleep. I’m pacing around my secret quarters, trying to block out the memories of harnessing Dovesier’s dark lightning and frying bodies to ash right in this very room. I’m slowly coming to terms though. Izfael poked the dragon one too many times. What’s done is done.

  My nose is in Layla’s tome. I’ve been ecstatic since her triumphant return to utility. The anti-mage art is something pushed to one side of the Sivus library I never even thought to look—in the barren section. Apparently, some of those devoid of magi developed defense mechanisms for it over time. The affinity is passed down through lineage, and mastered through practiced art. It took generations to understand the calling and manifest its use. Nature is weird.

  “You will perish soon, little mortal,” Dovesier cackles in my ear. “And we will be released back to our kingdomonia.”

  “You’ve been saying that for months now. Still here,” I speak aloud, spreading one arm while continuing to peruse the tome. “I think you’re just mad I’m not using your spirit.”

  “Bored, rather. I assumed if Boeru chose you, you’d at least be mildly destructive.”

  “Had I let you free, you would murder everyone you touch.” I frown.

  “As a war general should!” Dovesier whips his tri-spiked tail through my mind’s eye. “Topple this sanctum, little mortal. Take it for yourself. You are a dragonborn!”

  “Then I’d be no better than the rulers of these kingdomonia,” I say.

  “Live a day as a dragon rather than a lifetime as a goat.” Dovesier sparks lightning through my bones.

  “Please go away. I’m busy. Go make yourself useful and fetch Boeru for me.” I wave my hand dismissively, then jump back when I see two eyes in the shadows of my wall.

  “Gods!” I yell, swiftly dropping the tome and reaching for Spellglass leaning against a nearby ledge.

  I know those eyes—emerald and seductive. Renesta.

  “You’ve been harboring secrets.” Her shade slithers forward.

  “Gods, Renesta.” I shake my head. “Aren’t these wards supposed to keep magic like this out?”

  “You are the fool who let a shade beyond the ward door,” she says playfully. “Permission to enter?”

  I furrow my brow, tossing Spellglass to the floor. “You’re already here.”

  Ssssft!

  Her body morphs into her shade, scaring me back for the second time in a night.

  “What the—” I take a step forward to make sure my mind isn’t playing tricks on me. “You can shadow snap?”

  “Not everyone who has talent has to be awakened, Haledyn. Turns out I really should thank you. I can learn from some of the tutors here.”

  Once I get over the shock of what’s happening, I come to my senses. “Didn’t you scorn me for this very act months ago? Invading your privacy? If I recall, you threatened to leave because of it.”

  “Mm. But you’re too popular to make such threats seriously. I think you’ll forgive me.” She saunters over, tilting her head knowingly. “After all, we’ve gotten pretty close, wouldn’t you say?”

  “We’ve barely spoken in weeks. You’re as aloof as ever.”

  “I beg to differ.” She drags her finger across the wall. “A certain red sky…”

  My eyes widen… heartbeat thumping in my chest. “That was—”

  “We all share from the same ocean, Haledyn.”

  “I thought… Shade’s Milk.”

  Her face cracks into a sly smile. “Attunement can mean many things for different people. The warring dark has favorites, you know… as do I.”

  She leans into my space, but I don’t cower. I can’t help it. Her scent is intoxicating. Like bliss masked by a dark musk. I’m drawn to her lips, her minty breath, despite having traveled through dark weaves to get here.

  “Who is it you speak to?” She runs her finger down my chest, digging past the silk of my nightwear to find my bare chest. “Why do you hide from your marked who trust you so?” She tilts her head, testing me.

  “I can’t say.”

  “Ah. So now you know what it’s like to have an agenda all your own. All of your ‘ascend together’ rhetoric pissed to the wind.” She circles me.

  “It’s not rhetoric. I would die for any one of my marked,” I say. “Even you.”

  “Mm. I believe you, probably. But that’s not what interests me tonight. I think we can finally be friends, through shared deception.”

  “What were we before this?” I ask.

  “Passersby in the night. An occasional kiss. Shared desire. Ever since you took the soul of a dragon, your transformation has piqued my interest. Yet now, you talk to some other unseen entity, asking to fetch your dragon. Does this quarter come with invisible servants as well? Do you flirt with other shades behind my back?” She paces away from me, touching the stone walls and encroaching dangerously close to the warded Seal.

  “I didn’t pry when shadows slithered away from the hedge maze out front. Knowing you convene with other shades is about as obvious as Broggen’s madness,” I counter. “But I give you space to figure it out, as requested.”

  “Hm.” Her foot comes inches from the ward, activating a small cyclone of wind that I fear will throw her back if she gets any closer. “Reeks of Relias’ scent.”

  Boeru said the same thing about the Danes.

  “I still can’t believe you trust a creature like that—who forced many of our brothers and sisters to early ashes.” She turns on her heel, locking eyes with me. “Then again, all of their deaths gave you your precious Torn Wing. How easily we forget.” She grabs onto the collar of my robes and pulls me down to her lips.

  I want to grab her right back and shove her away. But I don’t. She’s right. Even though I know so much of what came to be is wrong, I still take what’s in front of me.

  Our lips touch, and it’s a wet cushion of heaven. Her tongue is like an eel of warring dark. In this moment, I understand Jurso’s addiction. Her soft moan into my mouth is tantalizing, and for once, the growl echoing around me doesn’t come from dragons.

  Then a flash of her beneath the red sky jolts me out of my daze. I stop abruptly, holding her by the shoulders.

  Her lips are red from kissing mine. Our breath is heavy.

  I want her so bad.

  Resist, Haledyn. She cannot be trusted.

  “What did the dark show you?”

  “That we belong together.” Her voice blankets my ears like a silk scarf.

  Guilt immediately runs through my gut. Layla believes that too; I can tell by the way she looks at me. And now that she thinks herself worthy? I imagine a conversation is coming.

  “Take me, Haledyn. Here, in this soundproofed room full of death, under the night sky.” She shrugs my hands off of her and slithers her way into my space. “I don’t mind if the dragon watches. He made you this way, after all.”

  My breath catches in my throat. Of all the things to say… why does this turn me on?

  “Layla—”

  “Is like a sister,” she interrupts me. “You don’t look at her like you do me. Not even close.” She presses her hand on my stomach, slowly undoing my night robes by pushing her arm down.

  I grab her hand by the wrist before she goes too far, then plant a passionate kiss on her lips. Her whole body relaxes, but she doesn’t realize it’s goodbye. I pull away.

  “You’re all but a stranger, Ren. You come and go as you please, hardly committing to our cause. And that’s fine if you’re not on board. I can’t force you. But you’re not even open to a discussion. For all I know, you want to share a bed just to bolster some of your warring dark.”

  She glares at me. I’d expect anyone else to be fuming after throwing themselves, only to be rejected. But not her. I’m not sure whether it’s good or bad.

  Her silence begs me to keep on.

  “We have to start trusting one another. Boeru pointed me your way for a reason. I have to hope that means we’re meant for something.”

  “And if it’s just a dragon measuring potential and nothing more?” she says.

  “What are you hiding, Renesta? What does the ocean show you?”

  “You first.”

  I sigh, looking the other way.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “My brother,” I reveal. “I saw him. Spoke with him. Fought with him. It’s been driving me mad ever since.”

  “The ocean…” she nods, trailing off. “It plays tricks on us all.”

  “What do you know of it?”

  “Only what time has allowed me to wonder.”

  “Fine. Your take, then.”

  “It’s both him, and not him. Sometimes it’s not clear where the warring dark ends and we who wield it begin.”

  That’s very telling, actually. How long has she been swimming in it? Regardless, it’s her turn to share. I fold my arms, waiting.

  “My house father. He confided in me since my first signs of attunement. He saw something in me. Pulled me aside and trained me in the way of magi.”

  “Yeah, I recall some of this. He essentially failed to temper your blood,” I say.

  She smirks. “And he would do it again.”

  “Why?”

  “He believes wholeheartedly in the ways of House Sivus—perhaps even more than the house lords themselves.”

  “Balance,” I say. “He didn’t want to temper all of his orphans’ blood the same way.”

  “Either that, or I remind him of his own daughter, perhaps.” She shrugs. “Who’s to say?”

  “He mentors you still.”

  “Nightly. I’m getting more education than I know what to do with.”

  “Why not share with your marked?” I spread my arms.

  “It’s hard enough to share only with you. I’m not the trusting type.”

  I hear her words, but her face tells of held-back secrets. It wouldn’t be fair to hold it against her though, because I’m doing the same. We both read each other quite well, I think. And what’s worse, she’s probably more aware than the others that Boeru’s mark has been dull for some time.

  We’re dancing a dance.

  “My brother’s a ghoulborn,” I offer another olive branch.

  “My house father’s a dark bliss user. Put another way—”

  “He’s a poison maker,” I finish for her. “Now I have to be extra careful around you.”

  “Hmm. If I wanted you incapacitated, I would’ve done it long ago, Dragonborn.” She runs her fingers over my chest again. “Since we’re in such a sharing mood, I’ll let you in on a little secret… I always thought my destiny was to be awakened.” Her gaze lingers on the regenerated Seal. “But I guess that fate is reserved for the Winbridges, Lor’Fyres, and the like. Such a pity.”

  “Did your house father fill your head with that?” I ask.

  “No. That one comes from the ocean. The thorny black ocean.”

  “So you knew everything while walking down those dungeon steps… while the rest of us were crawling blind.”

  “Too many brutes on those steps to divulge such information. Besides… I wouldn’t have wanted to ruin such perfectly tempered blood.”

  “Uh huh.” I smirk.

  “Those cards you’re holding so close to your chest.” She leans on me, lifting one foot off the ground. “Go see your Prominent. He’s the only one with answers.”

  I notice that shadowy mist of her shade exhale from her body.

  “Scorius?”

  He’s with the enemy—the words are on the tip of my tongue. But I hold back.

  “He got you this far, didn’t he?” She leans closer, the wafting slivers trailing farther behind her. “Until next time, Haledyn. Hopefully I planted my seed well enough for a more satisfying ending next time.” With a gentle kiss on the lips, she snaps out of my quarters.

  ***

  The next morning, I wake up in a cold sweat. Renesta reignited guilt for not showing up to my Prominent’s class. She’s right, after all. I’m here suffering with two angry dragons I can’t pin down.

  But he’s with Lacor. Boeru all but confirmed it.

  What if the ocean plays tricks on me?

  “Rgh.” I rip at my hair and push to the edge of my bed. The weapons hanging along the wall taunt me. Curved, enchanted steel swords and regal spears. I’m not worthy of the war-tier until I win one. Pulling on my shin guards and strapping my cuirass distracts me momentarily. It’s the first time in a while I’ve dressed at this hour. Activity buzzes outside the door—all of my marked getting ready for their first class.

  Once I get my boots on and run some water through my hair, I exit my chambers to ten sets of staring eyes. Everyone stops in their tracks at the sight of me.

  Layla steps out of her quarters in the left room. “What’s with the faces—oh.”

  “At ease, everyone. The hell am I, a house lord?” I twirl Spellglass into its sheath.

  Some light chuckles echo around the room while everyone gets their things ready for first class, while I step up to Lay and give her a firm pat on the back.

  “Did I inspire you?” she says haughtily, not knowing a guilty pang just shot into my gut.

  It’s not her who got me moving.

  “Something like that,” I fib. “You look powerful, Lay.”

  “That’s because I am. The bitch had me fooled from the start.” She looks at her own hands.

  “Part of the process, I guess. Same lies, different tier. To think you’ll be more useful than all of us.” I smile.

  “Let’s not push it.”

  “Well, for starters, I might need to bring you into my Prominent’s chambers. Which stance was it that absorbs the warring dark? Hammer?”

  “I hate that you know my stances as well as I do.”

  “That’s what a guide does,” I say. “C’mon, walk with me.”

  “Wait, you’re serious?” She scowls.

  “No. I just want the hot gossip.”

  And to see if there’s a connection between us.

  “I’m afraid that’s me today.” She frames her face, and I almost can’t believe what I’m seeing. Layla… giddy?

  We make our way down the hall and blend in with the crowd heading toward the sanctum.

  “Way to go, Lay!” A tall cadet crosses his muscular arms overhead, indicating a stance. “Barren no more.”

  The guy is wearing a headband and eyeliner. How the hell does the most straight-laced woman in Sivus know him?

  “Aye, Hitch!” Lay pumps her fist.

  “New crush?” I narrow my eyes.

  “Maybe. Jealous?” She nudges me.

  “Maybe.” I push her back.

  She scoffs when nearly losing her footing. “You know, there was a time you’d do that and somehow hurt yourself.”

  “That was before the dragons—ahem, Boeru beefed me up a bit.”

  Well, that was idiotic. I scratch the back of my head.

  We bear the cold on the way to the sanctum, chatting about the latest from Broggen’s brutes, then the newest batch, and who’s laying with who. I’m enjoying this side of Layla. Her head held high, walk confident. She earned her gods-damn place yesterday, that’s for sure.

  We come to the crossroads of our wings.

  “Rumor has it there’s a big announcement today. Some big secret for first years.”

  “Bring it on.” I hold out my hand, and when she goes to grab mine, I bring her in for a hug. “I’m proud of you, Lay.” I squeeze tight, realizing now that Renesta was right. She’s my big sister. The warm hug says it all.

  I break the embrace and give her a pleasantly awkward smile before turning to go my way. “Next up, king stance,” I shout over my shoulder.

  “The hell is that?” She scrunches her face, walking backward.

  “You’ll see.” I wink.

  My head is a hot mess as I walk down the hall toward the room of many doors. Fastening my cowl into a hood helps avoid cadets looking my way. I’m still the murderer of steel to some, and a rank breaker to others. Either way, it’s too early for the attention. I have to focus on the task at hand—get Boeru back for good, and get up to the war-tier to save my brother.

  I come to Scorius’ massive iron doors and feel the blood drain from my face. I’m about to enter the lair of a traitor—one who unlocked an incredible power within me. My antagonistic side allowed me to wield Boeru’s dark flame. It started me down the path to all of this. Why would a traitor train up a Miria awakened? Am I looking at this all wrong?

  After a long exhale, I push the giant door open to the sound of bubbling cauldrons and overflowing vials and the sight of my hunched Prominent standing over one of his desks with his back to me.

  “You choose a convenient time to return,” Scorius’ voice rattles through me. “Announcement day may not be in the cards for you, Dragonborn.”

  The door shuts behind me on its own, jolting me stiff. I’ll never get used to that.

  “Have you come to confess?” He picks up a vial as if talking to it. I recognize the contents immediately. Crimson, thick ichor mixed with dark flakes. He’s brewing more Shade’s Milk.

  “If you go first,” I say brazenly, looking carefully for a reaction. He freezes ever so slightly, just for a second. But I caught it.

  He puts down the Shade’s Milk for another vial, toiling as he pleases. “You forget the hierarchy of things in your time away. Perhaps I should remind you.”

  His single feathery black wing spawns from his back and spins in a full rotation, kicking up warring dark slivers speeding through the stone ground, and before I can react, I’m wrapped in a wing as he still leisurely measures his vials.

  I don’t bother jerking to break free. Short of shouting for Boeru or Dovesier to intervene, my warring dark simply cannot contend.

  He’s disappointed. He wants me to call my dragons so he can read them.

  When he finally turns on his heel, I can see it in his expression. He’s looking through me, like he does whenever addressing Boeru.

  “There’s no dragon for you to challenge, Prominent. You chased him away when you sent me to the ocean.” I clench my jaw. “I’m here to get him back.”

  The wing constricts, squeezing my arms tightly to my sides—numbing them. I’m not worried. If he wanted me dead, I would be already. This gods-damn hurts though.

  “The Torn Wing burned castle after castle in the old wars.” Scorius taps his cane. “His gray scales grew resistant to the elements his siblings wielded, thanks to the torture they put him through. Mages would hurl ice, fire, bolts, and poison… to no avail. He is a powerful spirit to be bonded with. But he does not wield lightning.” His gold eyes flash.

  I clench my jaw as his wing squeezes tighter—ligaments and joints cracking. Shit. Bone might be next.

  Maybe he will kill me.

  Anger flares in his eyes where there’s usually scornful indifference. Has he been overtaken by Lacor? Possessed?

  The wing wraps me to the point my shoulders threaten to cave, my warring dark dancing angrily throughout my body. I won’t call my dragons, no matter how badly he tries. He cannot know.

  No one can know.

  I wince as the pain becomes unbearable… as my Prominent claws his twisting fist. “If I broke you right here, Foren wouldn’t even bat an eye.”

  My jaw clenches.

  “You would be forgotten in a week,” Scorius’ voice deepens. “Only the legends of war are remembered. You… are just an insubordinate, ungrateful cadet.”

  Crrk.

  The wing climbs to my neck. It smells of rotting carcass. Death.

  “Do you know how Boeru found out his hidden enemies?” My voice is mostly air. “He sniffed them out.”

  The wing falls to liquid at my feet, releasing my numb body to the floor as Scorius turns sharply away. My knees and hands scrape the ground as blood flow returns.

  “I see,” he says, tone calming entirely.

  I gasp a few times to get the air back into my lungs, then get to my feet, even though they’re jelly. “What do you see?”

  “The Torn Wing thinks me a traitor.” Scorius picks up another one of his vials. “I wonder how many castles he’s burned for such grave misjudgments?”

  My brow furrows. Give this guy a thread, and he’ll unravel the whole damn cloth.

  “Now he’s cost you months of invaluable training.”

  “I’ve learned to manage a team in your absence,” I counter.

  “Ah. The man thinks he’s in line to be a general,” he scoffs. “You’re as delusional as your dragon. Unless your name is Lor’fyre.”

  Anger fills me like his bubbling flask. A few minutes back in his presence and my emotions have sprung every which way, my body nearly broken. I guess this is what punishment looks like.

  “You made one wise decision, I suppose.” Scorius turns with a wicked smirk. “Had you gone to Foren with such accusations, he’d have all the ammunition needed to entomb you.”

  I ball my fists until my knuckles turn white.

  “The question is, why haven’t you? Perhaps it is you who falters. Do you lack allegiance to Miria, Dragonborn?”

  “Who is this slithering politician, and what have you done with my Prominent?”

  “Fool,” he snarls. “Why have you returned if you’re not ready to talk?”

  “I’ve studied the ingredients of Shade’s Milk, and have decided I want to go back.”

  “You worry of addiction for your friends, yet you fail to see yourself.” Scorius gulps a flask of green goo. “What good does it do to reveal your plight to a traitor?”

  “There’s one ingredient not available in all the four houses. Not to cadets, anyway.”

  “Why would a traitor give you that ingredient?” He puts down the flask and turns on me. “Besides, in the event I’m on your side… we wouldn’t want Miria’s victorious future to be squandered by the dark, would we?” he growls. “It’s bad enough one awakened became baptized. Now… I’ll ask you one more time before you’re banished from my chambers forever.”

  I shake my head, telling him no before the question is even asked. “Prominent. Why not just advance me like the good little soldier I am, pretend it’s for the good of the realm that I have no business pledging loyalty to, and we’ll keep our business to ourselves? After all, isn’t your future success dependent upon this sanctum’s cadets? I rise, you rise,” I seethe.

  He huffs, pacing toward the bubbling see-through vat with the prime bubble dancing at the center of it.

  “You’ve changed, Dragonborn,” Scorius’ voice drops all emotion. “I’m not sure at which point it was—taking a whiff of the Milk or being drowned in it—but I see now it was too far and too soon for someone so green. Disrobe. Get into the prime.”

  My eye twitches. “What?”

  “In six months’ time, all first years will participate in the Call to Arms. You will be tested beyond your limits. Many will die. And for reasons I’m unsure of, I don’t want you to be one of them.”