A brittle layer of ice coated the forest foliage. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d seen ice in the forest. Kull must have seen my shocked expression.
“Is it normal for the dragon’s forest to be so cold?” he asked.
“Not at all. I’ve never seen it like this. I almost don’t recognize it.”
The trees, with their vibrant orange and red leaves, stood with a fragile stillness as ice coated their branches. Although they stood taller than most buildings, it seemed as though a stiff wind would blow them down.
“It must be because the magic is gone,” Rolf offered.
I hugged my arms tight around my chest. Of all the places in Faythander, I’d always considered the dragon’s forest to be the most magical. But now, the absence of magic made my heart weigh heavy in my chest. Though faint, I could still feel a hint of it deep within the trees, as if the magic had gone into hibernation.
“It’s not completely gone. It’s still there, though barely.”
We made our way to the cliffs of the sky king’s mountain. The imposing fortress of steep heights and razor-sharp cliffs rose higher than the rest. The mountain range had always reminded me of dragon’s teeth. No surprise there.
I half expected my stepfather to greet me. Being one of the most clairvoyant creatures in Faythander, he usually knew I was coming. This time, I saw no sign of him. The cliffs remained eerily quiet, a lack of sound that pressed at my eardrums and made the tiniest breaths seem deafening.
“How do we get up there?” Rolf asked. “Isn’t it supposed to be impossible or something?”
“It’s not impossible, but it’s not easy. The sky king believes that only those with the most troubling circumstances would make the climb to his chambers. Those who don’t make it—well, the sky king expects that halfway through the climb they’ll work out their own problems and turn back. It’s not a bad idea. It saves the him from many tedious disputes.”
“But how do we get up there?” Kull asked, eyeing the cliffs.
“There’s an entrance not far from here. Follow me.”
“An entrance?” Kull raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. It’s a secret entrance the dragons built for me. Neither of you are supposed to know about it, so keep your mouths shut.”
“I will not reveal its location to anyone,” Rolf said.
A smile lit Kull’s face. “And I give you my oath that I shall not speak a word.”
I hadn’t seen him smile in a while. It was good to see him happy again, if only for a moment.
We picked our way over large boulders. Leading the group around the cliffs to the west face, a cold wind prickled my skin and I tasted frost in the air. Gray ice slicked the stone. There was no way we could climb up in these conditions. I pitied anyone who sought an audience with the sky king today.
We made it to the west side, where, unhindered by the shelter of rocks, the wind picked up, howling with a shrill wail and battering our faces. Far in the distance, I spied the Rheic Sea, Faythander’s only major ocean. Its waters were a dull gray that matched the sky.
I hadn’t used this entrance since I was a child. Would it still be there? Perhaps the dragons had thought I’d never use it again and had blocked it off.
Searching the area, I stopped at a moss-covered stone that stood half my height. Was this the right boulder? I saw no others like it. Still, it had been so long since I’d used this entrance.
There was only one way to be sure. Reaching into the moss, I searched for the lever that would release the door. The ice had formed a prickly layer over the moss, making my fingers tingle with the cold as I tried to locate the lever. Finally, my hand bumped against rusted metal.
“Found it,” I said as I grabbed the handle, pulled it down, and released it.
With the sound of grating stone, a doorway opened in the cliff face. The arched entry looked as I remembered, although now, ice-covered vines grew along the sheer rock face and partially hid the entrance.
“This will take us to the sky king’s chambers?” Rolf asked.
“It will take us to the kitchens,” I answered, “which aren’t far from his chambers. Follow me.”
Kull had to duck as we stepped inside. I felt grateful to be out of the wind when the door closed behind us. Inside the small chamber, a steep staircase spiraled upward so high I couldn’t see the top. I didn’t look forward to the climb, though it beat trying to scale the cliffs.
The two Wults followed as I ascended the stairs. Memories surfaced as I climbed. Running my fingers along the smooth stone walls, I thought back to when dragons had hired trolls to build this staircase for me. I remembered watching the trolls, with their pocked yellow skin and beady pink eyes, as they drilled through the mountain. It was the only time I remembered having seen trolls, and I had been fascinated by them.
Trolls weren’t considered one of the major Faythander species. They lived deep underground and rarely came to the surface. Trolls weren’t known for their intelligence. Most couldn’t communicate with spoken words. Some races even considered them a subspecies to Faythander’s five major races. Although they were nomadic underground, they were also peaceful. I wondered if the loss of magic had affected them.
As we neared the top of the staircase, soft golden lights appeared from the interior of the dragons’ mountain, and the familiar smell of dragon stew drifted to us from the open chamber.
My heart quickened at the thought of seeing the dragons again. It had been a long time since I’d called this place home.
We stepped off the staircase and entered the kitchens. A cauldron of hot stew bubbled in the floor’s center. The smell of the soup brought back memories of better times, when I’d had nothing to worry about and everything to look forward to. Sometimes I wished I could be a child again.
A dragon—Charl—lay curled in the corner with one eye open. I hadn’t seen her in years. She was one of the older dragons, and when I’d been a child, she had sometimes taken on a human form to be my nursemaid. My heart felt heavy as I looked on her now. Her once-smooth scales were beginning to flake off. Instead of the vibrant green I was used to seeing, her scales had turned dull gray. She raised her long, serpentine neck as we drew near.
“We’ve been expecting you, young one,” she said, her voice weak.
I walked to Charl and hugged her long neck. “Oh, Charl, I’ve missed you so much!”
A claw gently stroked my back. “We have all missed you, Olive.”
“Where is the sky king?” I asked.
“In his chambers. He is resting, as are we all until the magic returns.”
I pulled away from her. “Is he okay?”
She hung her head. “He has been weakened. His age, coupled with his strong connection to magic, has caused his life to fade. It is important that you speak with him, for there is much he must tell you. After you have spoken, I will have your meal ready.”
I gave Charl another brief hug and then, with Rolf and Kull following, made my way to my stepfather’s chamber. The halls were unusually quiet, and our footsteps echoed through the tall, arched walkways. I saw no signs of life. No conversations. No laughter or music. I wasn’t sure that I’d ever heard it so quiet. Had I come to the right place?
The cold intensified as I neared my stepfather’s chamber. When we entered his cavern through a massive, ornately-carved doorway, I stopped in shock. Ice covered everything. The floors were slick with it. The once-vibrant blue crystals lining the walls shone a dull gray beneath the frost. The moat surrounding my stepfather’s dais was slick with an icy layer. Even the chandelier was encrusted with ice.
With closed eyes and labored breathing, my stepfather lay atop his dais. Not wanting to disturb his rest, I turned to leave.
“Olive.” His voice came out as a weak whisper. He lifted his head. His once golden scales were now a drab brown, and his skin seemed to hang off his frame.
I walked toward the frail-looking dragon, but something inside me refused to accept the situation.
In my mind, my stepfather couldn’t grow old or get sick. He would live forever. It wasn’t possible for his life to fade. Yet, as I neared him, my mind was forced to accept the truth.
Fan’twar was dying.
I crossed the icy moat and sat on the edge of the dais near my stepfather’s face. “Fan’twar,” I said softly. I didn’t want to see him this way. This wasn’t how I wanted to remember him. Fan’twar was strong, fierce. He was a symbol of power and pride.
His scales flaked off as I caressed his face.
“You have come, young one,” he breathed.
“Yes.”
“And you’ve brought your friends?”
Kull and Rolf stood under the arched doorway. “Yes. I’ve brought them.”
“Good.” A cough shook his body.
“Fan’twar, how can I help you? What can I do?”
His eyes closed once again. “The power of the pure magic must be restored.”
“How?”
“The magic of the Everblossom has been hidden from Geth. For now, it is protected, but it will not stay that way for long. Travel to Earth Kingdom. Claim the flower for you own.”
“Earth Kingdom? How did it get there?”
“Ulizet has sent the flower where it will be safest. But take care; Geth has the ability to find it soon. You must find Mochazon before Geth can destroy it.”
“How will I find Mochazon?”
“He will… search you out. He has been waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me? He’s only just gone there.”
“No. His time in Earth Kingdom has been longer than you assume. The tree’s weakened magic was not powerful enough to correctly align our timelines, so he was sent two weeks into the past.” His breathing grew more labored.
“So Mochazon has been on Earth for two weeks?”
He nodded, but before my stepfather could continue, he paused to catch his breath. “Geth,” he finally managed, “is not who he appears. He is a goblin, and… a Spellweaver. While all goblins have the ability to… transform liquid elements, he also has the ability to use magic from both worlds.”
“Spellweaver?” I tried to remember where I’d heard the name. In Fan’twar’s libraries, there was a book I’d found when I was younger. It was an encyclopedia of magic users. Usually I didn’t read textbooks, but this one had caught my eye. I remembered reading about the Spellweaver. The last Spellweaver had lived one thousand years ago. He had been the son of an elf and goblin who had learned to use all magic, and he’d almost destroyed the world.
For most practitioners, learning magic was a tedious process. It couldn’t be taught from a book. Each magical word was different to each person. Learning all the magical words was impossible—except for a Spellweaver. They had the unique ability to use liquid elements and transform them to whatever purpose they needed, thus learning magical names much faster than anyone else could.
I shuddered to think what he could do with that sort of power. For Geth to destroy the Everblossom meant it was a threat to him, and it meant the flower of pure magic could stop him still.
“You must travel to Earth Kingdom, young one, while you still can, before the magic fades completely. The crossing will be dangerous… with the weakened magic.”
“Will it be possible for me to cross? It sent Mochazon into the past by two weeks. What if it sends me to the Middle Ages?”
“I do not think you need to worry. You still have the ability to use magic from both worlds. Rely on Earth magic, and you will be safe.”
I didn’t share his confidence. My magical powers came from both worlds. Relying on only one type of magic wouldn’t be easy—if it were even possible.
Fan’twar groaned. I wanted so badly to make him better. I couldn’t stand seeing him that way.
“Do not worry about me,” he said. A small smile creased his lips. “I will heal soon enough, and then my wit will return, and you will find me exasperating once again and wish I’d been ill for a little longer.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I never found you exasperating.”
“Really?” He cracked one eye open. “Then I am not trying hard enough, am I?”
“Fan’twar,” I squeezed his neck, “please take care while I’m gone.”
He nodded.
“Is my mirror case still in my room?” I asked.
“You will find it where you left it. Use it tonight under the first rays of moonlight, when the magic is strongest. But be wary—Geth searches for the magical bloom. He will not rest until it is destroyed, and he will not hesitate to kill you.”
His words made my pulse quicken. I’d always known Geth was brutal, but with the realization of his magical powers, he seemed almost unstoppable. Even the sky king’s magic couldn’t compete with a Spellweaver. “Can he be defeated?” I asked.
Fan’twar didn’t answer right away, which frightened me. “He cannot be stopped by traditional means.”
“Then it’s impossible?”
“No. It is not impossible, but defeating him will come at a price. The tide of our world is changing. When one phase ends, a new one begins. I have ruled for a very long time. Soon, my time will end and another’s will begin, for this is the way of things. The flow of time takes me away to a new existence. I will not…”
“Fan’twar?” What was he saying? Did he expect to die soon? No. It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t die. Not now. Not while there was still so much to be done. But with his eyes closed and his breathing labored, I wasn’t sure how much time he had left. I ran my fingers along his neck, trying to remember every detail while I still could.
“Fan’twar,” I repeated more quietly, “Uli spoke of a silver light and mirror-white sand. Do you know what she referred to?”
“Yes. You must search…” His voice was barely loud enough to hear. “…in the libraries. You will find your knowledge there.”
“Can’t you just tell me?”
He moved his head away and tucked it beside his wing. I wasn’t sure if he heard me. “Over the sea of a thousand faces,” he said. The cadence of his voice was rhythmic, almost as if he spoke a lullaby. “Let the silver light show the way. The bud will only blossom under the stars of the mirror-white sand. Only there will it be safe. Only then can our world be saved. Only then… will I live.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I stood in my old bedroom and packed my things, trying to think of anything but Fan’twar. Kull and Rolf had stayed behind to talk with the sky king. It was better that way. I needed some time to be alone and process my thoughts. Despite his powers, the sky king was mortal. I needed to realize that.
A chill breeze gusted through the open window, making the Styrofoam plates and empty picture frames rattle on my walls. The dragons had decorated my room as best as they could. They’d found discarded items from Earth and fastened them to the stone. At the time, I’d felt proud of their decorating choices. I’d felt more human. But now I had to laugh at the rows of frayed running shoes and busted plastic cups.
Sitting at my old desk, I held a wooden bowl filled with Charl’s stew, the smooth-grained wood warm between my hands. I took a small bite, and the rich, salty flavor tasted perfect, exactly as I remembered it. Funny how a thing like taste could bring back so many memories. I wished I could have eaten in the company of dragons, but Charl had retired to her chambers early, saying she needed rest. She hadn’t told me directly, but she was suffering. After finishing the stew, I set the bowl aside to pack my things.
I placed a stack of books in my pack. I’d combed through Fan’twar’s library, trying to find anything having to do with the stars of mirror-white sand. Uli and Fan’twar had both mentioned it, but neither had given me any further explanation. I’d found three books that looked promising. Ancient Isles of Faythander, Dragon Hoards of the Lost Islands, and A History of Faythander’s Lost Civilizations. I’d studied all three books in the past, but it had been so long ago that my memory had grown rusty. I recited Fan’twar and Uli’s words in my mi
nd as I packed the books.
Over the sea of a thousand faces, let the silver light show the way. The bud will only blossom under the stars of the mirror-white sand.
If the place was in Faythander, then “over the sea” meant the place would be on an island, and Faythander only had one major ocean. But I’d never heard the Rheic Sea called the sea of a thousand faces, hence my research—I’d hate to spend months traveling the Rheic Sea only to learn that we should’ve been traveling the Pacific.
Next came the phrase about the silver light. Moonlight? Starlight, perhaps? If so, which stars could it be referring to? If not moonlight or starlight, could it mean a magical light? If that were the case, then finding it with the magic fading wouldn’t be easy.
Last was the phrase about the stars of the mirror-white sand. That phrase confused me the most. How could stars be mixed with sand? It was scientifically impossible, which meant it was some sort of riddle, and riddles had never been my forte. Hopefully, my books would give me some sort of clue. Of course, none of this would do any good unless I actually found the bloom to begin with. And I couldn’t do that here.
I zipped my pack and slung it over my shoulder. Through the open window, I watched as twilight descended over the dragon’s forest. A sinking feeling settled in my stomach as I stared at the ice-encrusted trees. The forest looked so strange and alien with the sinking sun illuminating frozen leaves. Usually a bright red, the trees’ leaves now looked white, a lifeless color, devoid of the lushness I had become so used to. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt as if I would never again see Faythander the way I remembered it. Taking a deep breath, I let my worries drive me forward as I left my room and headed through the caves toward the forest.
Kull and Rolf met me in the hallway. Rolf gave me a strained smile, while Kull’s face remained unreadable.
“Did you find out what you needed from my stepfather?” I asked Kull.
He cleared his throat. “Yes. I’m afraid so.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Afraid so? What did you talk about?”
He cast a sidelong glance at Rolf.
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