by K.N. Lee
She gasped as her memories melted away, and were replaced with darker images—images that made her stomach churn with dread.
She covered her mouth with her hands as North stood in the temple, marrying Hazel, and how he bounced two adorable babies on his lap during the following winter. The pain of that image stabbed her in the gut.
She wrapped her arms around her body and sucked in a breath. What is this?
Above, there was a beautiful golden phoenix with flames engulfing its regal body. It flew away from her, leaving sparks behind. She watched it fly far away, and began to panic.
Come back!
For some reason, it seemed important, and the further it flew away, the colder and more alone she felt.
“Wren,” the voice called again and she froze. All color drained from her face.
“Luna?”
“Yes,” her dragon said, her voice coming from far away.
She stretched her arms out, stunned by the cold water that funneled around her.
“What is happening?”
“You have to stop now. You’re going too far. Wake up.”
She shook her head, searching for Luna. To her dismay, all she saw were ripples as her body continued to slide down the slippery water funnel.
“Where am I going? I don’t know how to stop.”
“Wake up, Master. Wake up.”
Wren awakened with a gasp. Her throat burned and her entire body ached and screamed with pain. Kneeling beside her was Luna, her bright eyes looking to her with worry.
Relieved, she wrapped her arms around her dragon’s neck and embraced her.
Flint and Reed were at her side, and breathed a breath of relief as she wiped her face of moisture from the mist that rose from the bubbling falls.
They were at the bottom of the mountain, and the other Elite were there as well, standing in the trees, whispering.
“Wren,” Flint said, taking her by the hand. “Thank the Mother you’re all right.”
She leaned back, exhausted, and he held her close.
“What happened?”
Everyone looked down at her.
“We aren’t sure,” Reed said, frowning.
“A phoenix,” Flint said. “Swept in and saved you.”
Her heart soared, and she sat up and stood, searching the skies. The phoenix was real.
17
Dawn crept across the sky as Master Alistair stood before the Council of Elders, his hands clasped before him.
He listened to the clerics of The Vale discussing what to do about Necro. Twelve elders were assembled around the council table, ambivalent to the hot tea served to them, or the fragrant sticky buns piled high on a platter.
No one could eat. No one could sleep.
Worry had settled in long before Wren and the others had come to tell him of his arrival.
He and Necro were old foes, and the darkness and evil within would stop at nothing to get what it had lost.
Wren.
The poor girl had no idea what was coming. It was up to him and the others to protect her.
It had only taken days before foreign diplomats began to arrive, pleading for safety under the Academy’s protection. Kings, nobles, even mages had come to hide from the dark Titan of destruction.
The Academy was massive, but it could only house so many. It was more crowded than it had ever been, with nearly every room occupied with several refugees, as well as the students who called it home during the fall and winter season.
Master Banyan, tall and thin, with thick eyebrows over deep-set blue eyes, stood, and faced Alistair. He lifted a hand over the table, and from it a mist materialized. White smoke began to form a figure that stood from the air, and morphed into a dark silhouette.
Necro.
Two curved horns jutted from his angular head, and narrow slits of eyes that glowed with an orange hue met his.
He stiffened, even as he knew this was just an apparition, and not the Titan himself.
“Everyone in Titania is fearful for their lives,” Banyan said, his voice calm and laden with the wisdom of his many hundreds of years. “However, we have no defenses that can even envision competing with a Titan such as Necro. He will raise the dead, and make armies of them. He will tear down cities and kingdoms. Our magic can hold him back for a time…but, we need a more permanent solution.”
“We need Ember,” Zella said.
“King Ember,” Banyan corrected.
They didn’t just need Ember—they needed every mage and warrior in the realm.
Alistair nodded, and turned to face the open window that let in a cool breeze. “We all knew Necro would return. We should have been prepared for this day.”
“How could we have?” Banyan asked. “He is more powerful than all of us combined. He is more powerful than a god.”
As Alistair peered far into the horizon, he could almost see the darkness stretching over the sky miles and miles away. Banyan was right. Necro was one of the original beings of this world. His children were who they called gods. Now, he’d returned to wipe them all out.
Again.
“What do you propose?”
“You know exactly what we need,” Zella said from her seat at the far end of the rectangular table.
“You’re tiptoeing on dangerous ground, my friend,” Banyan said, and Alistair’s eyes closed as he exhaled.
He knew it. They all did.
But, it was impossible.
“Nothing is impossible,” Zella said, and he winced, knowing she’d just read his thoughts without his permission.
“This is,” he said, spinning around to face them all.
Zella tilted her head, with a sigh. She stood from her seat, and crossed the room to stand before him. She took his hands into hers, and stroked them, sending calming energy into his body.
He resisted the tears that burned his eyes, and stared down, avoiding her concerned gaze.
She spoke softly, so that the others couldn’t hear.
“I know you love her,” she whispered. “But, we cannot shelter her forever—not from her destiny—not from her fate.”
Alistair’s heart crushed at the idea of sending off the one person he’d come to love as his very own daughter—the one girl he’d vowed to protect until his dying breath.
But, he knew Zella to be right. It was time to prepare the girl for her true path.
Zella wiped a fallen tear from his cheek, and he finally lifted his gaze to meet hers.
“She’s ready,” she said, and he nodded.
Wren was their only hope.
“Fine,” he said. “Summon King Ember.”
At that moment, the doors to the balcony burst open. A bright flash of golden light nearly blinded them all.
Master Alister summoned his energy orb, and held his hands outward, prepared to fight against whatever assailant dared to threaten them.
To his surprise, the light began to dim, and the phoenix that stood on the balcony shifted into that of an elf.
“Ember,” Zella said, gasping.
Master Alistair lowered his hands.
“Well,” he said. “Looks like you’re already here.”
Ember stepped in, and nodded. “I am. And, I need to speak with you in private.”
18
Ember waited at the window, overlooking the rolling hills of The Vale, his hands clasped behind his back.
While the other Elders left the room, he picked up one of their sticky buns and ate it in a few bites.
Shame to let them go to waste.
Then, he looked outside to the bright sky.
Necro was still far off. The young girl he’d saved was safe with her people. Still, something nagged at him.
There was something about her that made it impossible to get her out of his mind. It wasn’t just her appearance, for she was a true vision of ethereal beauty—but, her very essence called to him. There was a magnetic pull, even from when his eyes first landed on her.
There had been
a look of defiance on her face.
Was she the reason he landed in Saldoria at that time?
He couldn’t be quite sure just yet.
“You’ve come at the perfect time,” Alistair said.
Ember nodded. “I know,” he said, simply.
Alistair was an old friend, and someone who had been there for him when times were tough. He knew Ember wasn’t the best with social interactions; quite abrupt, and abrasive. He also knew that Ember was a good judge of future events.
Visions of war and bloodshed haunted his dreams, and there was no escape.
“You needed me,” he added, glancing at Alistair as he stood by his side.
“We are going to make a stand against Necro, along with the mages, ancestors, and whoever else is able to help us.”
“Of course,” he said. “I will summon my army, and enlist the help of the other kingdoms.”
“Brilliant. We are all in this together.”
Ember lifted a brow. “Are we? I’m certain some of the other elders and kings won’t agree.”
“We have to make them. Necro doesn’t care about any of our previous wars. His war will rage against the whole world, and no one is safe.”
Ember nodded, but his mind was already far ahead of what Alistair spoke of.
“Who is the young female Dragon Elite?” Ember asked.
Alistair’s brows furrowed, and Ember noticed.
Interesting.
“Her name is Wren.”
Wren.
Fitting.
“What of her?” Alistair asked, suddenly suspicious.
“Is she important to you?” Ember asked.
“She is. She is my ward.”
“Ah, I see. Well, she was attacked by Necro’s spirit form.”
“What?” Alistair’s face paled.
He must truly care for the girl.
“Yes. But, I saved her,” Ember said. “Those poor lads who make up your Elite were quite flustered when it all happened. Perhaps I was meant to be there at that time.”
Alistair put his hands on Ember’s shoulders, relief washing over her face.
“Thank the Mother,” he said, exhaling.
“But, there is more to her,” Ember said, meeting Alistair’s eyes. “Something you aren’t telling me.”
Alistair searched his eyes, and gave his shoulders a squeeze. He stepped away, and cleared his throat.
“She’s special. I am not surprised that you noticed. It’s quite hard not to.”
Ember followed him, not prepared to leave without an answer. Something about the energy surrounding Wren seemed important.
Life-changing.
“She should be dead,” Ember added, testing Alistair.
When his old friend turned to him, they shared a look of knowing. With a sigh, he nodded.
“You just want to hear me say it, don’t you?”
A smile crept across Ember’s lips. “You know me well.”
19
Wren was in deep concentration when Flint entered the training grounds for the Dragon Elite.
It had been days since the events in Saldoria, and Wren had decided to train everyday, in preparation for the next attack.
Necro wanted her. She just wasn’t sure why.
Focused on the target, she steadied her breathing and relaxed her shoulders.
Of course, he’d come to watch her just as the blazing sun interfered with her view of the target. She could feel his eyes on her, judging, and sense his presence not more than a few feet away. His aura overlapped with hers, and for a moment, she was distracted, more concerned with the heat radiating from Flint’s body and the scent of pine on his jerkin.
She closed her eyes, and shifted her thoughts from the elf at her side, and envisioned the red target. Everything stilled, and silence filled her mind.
The feel of her breaths as they exited her nostrils, and the rising and falling of her chest helped her center herself.
When she opened her eyes, her jaw tightened. She took a deep breath and released the bow. The arrow sped through the air, slicing a path, and slamming into the target, dead in the center.
“Well done, Wren,” Flint said, putting hand on her shoulder. “Very good.”
She turned around and eyed his hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Captain.”
“You know you don’t have to call me that when its just you and I, Wren,” he said, smiling.
Tilting her head, she pursed her lips. “And, why is that? I’m not special? I want to be treated like everyone else, Captain.”
“Very well. I’d like to ask you something,” he said, removing his hand from her shoulder. He clasped them behind his back, and peered down at her through golden lashes.
For a moment, her eyes lingered on his lips, and her brows furrowed.
She’d never noticed before, but they looked soft, and inviting.
Appalled by her thoughts, her eyes widened and she swallowed, looking away from Flint’s face. Flushed, she hoped he hadn’t noticed what she’d been thinking.
He led her down the dirt path to one of the tents. His expression had turned serious when they entered the large tent.
“Leave us,” he said, waving a hand to the men inside.
With a bow, they left, letting the drape of the tent hang closed behind them.
He sat in one of the chairs and motioned for her to do the same.
Wren sat across from him and poured herself a cup of water from the pitcher between them.
As she sipped, she waited for him to reveal why he’d brought her there.
Flint was silent a moment as he just looked over Wren’s face.
She wished he’d stop, and just get on with it. Somehow, his gaze now left her on edge—uncomfortable in her seat. It wasn’t like the looks she got from the guards sometimes. It was a new sensation—an anxiety that made her self-conscious and worried about her appearance.
She’d never cared what Flint thought before. Why should she care now?
“You’ve proven yourself to be a worthy member of the Elite,” he said, and Wren’s shoulders relaxed.
Good.
It wasn’t something negative, as she’d worried.
“With Necro fast approaching, Master Alistair has asked for me and my pick of a few riders to join during the journey to Solaris. Apparently, the king of Athernia is here.”
She nodded, urging him to continue. That was her homeland. How could he not choose her?
“I’d like to ask you to come along,” he said, and gauged her reaction.
Her brows lifted and she edged closer on her seat. “Truly?”
“Yes,” he said. “I am bringing Reed, and you along.”
Wren couldn’t help the grin that came to her face.
“Yes. I will do it.”
Chuckling, he shuffled a few papers on his desk and stacked them to the side.
“It wasn’t really a request, but I am pleased you’re willing.”
With a nervous laugh, she tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “We will meet the king at dinner at the Academy this evening.”
Her grin widened. “Brilliant.”
20
The next day, Wren awakened and went about preparing for the journey.
Master Alistair and the other elders kept Necro at bay, and strengthened their barriers and defenses during the night.
For now, The Vale was safe.
It seemed he would not be getting into their land so easily, but calls for fighters and mages had been sent forth across the realm.
The Academy was already awake and alert at early dawn.
Wren left her quarters, and emerged to stares and whispers from the other students. They stepped out of her path, and paled at her returned gaze.
Confused, she frowned, unsure of why their eyes followed her.
Her supple leather boots whispered against the polished marble floor.
“Wren,” someone ca
lled, and broke her from her thoughts as she walked down the crowded corridor.
Hazel linked arms with her and leaned her head against her shoulder as they headed toward the terrarium.
“I hear you were chosen to join the king of Athenia on his journey to Solaris?” Hazel asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for this mission my entire life.”
“Ah, you have,” Hazel, agreed. “But, please promise me you will keep your head, and be very careful. I can’t lose my best friend.”
Wren nodded, a smile coming to her lips. “I promise,” she said. “And, you be good to North while I’m away.”
“You know he holds my heart,” she said.
“Good,” Wren said, breathing in.
“I caught a glimpse of the king today,” Hazel said, as they crossed the wide bridge that connected one end of the building to the circular center.
Wren glanced at her. “What was he like?”
“Bloody stunning,” Hazel said.
She put a hand on hers, but didn’t chide her for being enthusiastic about a king who had been so reclusive that no one had seen him for years. It was said that his gift for prophecy left him frail and nearly mad.
“And, that’s not all,” she said.
“What else?”
“He isn’t married.”
“Why should we care?” Wren asked, frowning.
Hazel threw her hands up. “Oh, let me think…only that every female mage in the Academy will be vying for his attention at the feast tonight. He isn’t betrothed, had never been married, and will be expected to produce an heir one day. Come now, doesn’t that sound exciting?”
Wren shrugged, brows furrowed.
Not really.
Still, she didn’t voice her pessimism. There was still much to do to prepare for her journey—her journey home.
21
Wren had seen blue-covered carriages on her way into the Academy. She’d spent the day training, and riding Luna around The Vale.
The crest of a shield and sword embroidered on their banners signified one thing.
