The vibrations of Valerys's wingbeats thrummed through Calen, his face and hands pressed against the dragon's scales. Valerys's warmth held the bite of the icy wind at bay, but Calen still felt his fingers growing numb. They'd flown for hours after leaving Aravell. Calen hadn't been sure of Dracaldryr's precise location, but he'd seen it on maps, and he knew to follow the Lodhar mountains to the ocean and to look for a massive island covered in snow-capped mountain peaks a couple hundred miles from the Lorian coast. Valerys had flown at such speeds Calen's only choices had been to close his eyes or deflect the wind with the Spark. Considering the lack of sleep he'd had, closing his eyes had seemed the simpler option. Through the dragon's eyes, he watched as the ocean sparkled with the red-orange glow of the rising sun. Ahead, the peaks of Dracaldryr jutted from the ocean, coated in a blanket of white.
No matter how hard he tried to push it down, anger still simmered in Calen's blood. Both Aeson and Therin had been willing to let him think Ella was dead. If something had happened, he would never have seen her again. It had taken every ounce of his strength to step away from Aeson. The rage within him had wanted him to draw his blade, but he'd held it back. His fingers curled into fists at the thought of it.
The last thing he'd wanted to do after finally finding Ella alive was to leave her. Doing so had felt wrong, but it was what he needed to do. Calen needed to hear what Pellenor had to say. He needed to know more about who he was, about what had truly happened to cause The Fall. He couldn't wait any longer. All he knew of the Dragonguard was what Aeson and the other Rakina had told him. But the image they painted was at odds with the words Pellenor had spoken. And now he knew Aeson had no qualms about lying to his face. 'We're not hunting you, Calen. We've been trying to find you, to protect you. You are the last hope for the survival of our kind… There is a temple atop the highest peak of Dracaldryr. When you are ready, light the beacon on the temple's roof.'
A deep rumble resonated through Valerys in response to Calen's thoughts, and the dragon cracked his wings, rising higher. After a few moments, Valerys spotted an enormous column-fronted temple nestled into the side of a great mountain towards the centre of the island. As soon as the temple came into view, Valerys angled his wings and plummeted. Calen let out a breath at the feeling of weightlessness that he had grown used to whenever Valerys dropped into steep dives. The dragon descended towards the island at such speeds Calen's body shook, the icy wind snapping at his exposed skin.
Calen shifted in his place at the nape of Valerys's neck, anticipating the movement as the dragon spread his wings and changed direction in a heartbeat, swooping towards the island, the force of the world against them. All those hours, days, weeks, and months of training, and it was only that moment that Calen truly understood what Chora had been telling him all along. 'You must fly until it is as effortless as breathing.'
Calen opened his eyes as Valerys slowed, the ocean disappearing beneath them to be replaced by rocks, trees, and rivers. Calen leaned backwards, sitting upright on Valerys's back as the dragon soared through the valleys that filled the island, sweeping along the rock face, twisting and turning, skirting the forest canopies below. He opened his arms, the frigid air crashing over him and filling his lungs. Pure joy rippled from Valerys to Calen. This was what it meant to be free. This is what it meant to fly. For a few brief minutes, both Calen and Valerys allowed themselves to forget the troubles and darkness of the world.
That calm was shattered when a monstrous roar ripped through the valley, echoing against the rising peaks on either side.
Dread coiled within them. They looked about frantically, searching for the source of the roar. Atop a ledge that jutted out from a nearby mountainside, Calen watched as an enormous dragon unfurled their wings, purple scales glittering like precious gems. Even from a distance, Calen could see that the creature was almost twice Valerys's size. The dragon watched for a moment, then stepped forwards and dropped from the ledge.
Calen's heart drummed against his ribs, beating faster and faster as the dragon plummeted down the rock face. The slightest shift in the dragon's wings and the creature pulled away from the rock, hurtling towards them.
Valerys's body rippled like a wave, and then he was diving. He dropped so fast Calen thought he might be torn from the dragon's back. Calen leaned forwards, pressing his body tight to Valerys. Vibrations swept through him, causing his teeth to chatter.
As Valerys dropped, he spread his wings and angled his body, rounding the base of a nearby cliff and emerging into a valley five times as wide as any they had passed through. Thick forests were split by a wide river, all leading towards a mountain that rose so high it looked as though it pierced the sky itself. The Temple.
The wind crashed against Valerys, thick like waves, fighting against every beat of his wings. Calen pushed back, looking over each shoulder, scanning the sky for any sight of the purple dragon. Over his left, he saw nothing but rock face and clouds. Over his right, the sun rested in the icy blue sky.
Panic turned his blood to ice as a shadow swept across the sun. The purple dragon soared above, a deep rumble resonating in their throat. Calen's heartbeat slowed as the creature glided in the air above, wings wide and still. In that moment he felt both calm and dread, for he knew if that dragon had wanted to tear them from the sky they could have done so with ease.
Up close, the dragon was even larger than Calen had first thought. An ocean of purple scales washed over slabs of dense muscle. The scales grew lighter at the edges, turning to cream along the dragon's underbelly.
With inimitable grace, the massive creature shifted in the air and swept left, swirling around Valerys like a leaf caught in the wind, its size belying a deft elegance. Purple scales faded to white along the dragon's snout, horns as large as Calen's legs framing their face. Warmth spilled over from Valerys's mind as the dragon soared in the air beside him. Through Valerys, Calen could feel that this dragon was different to those that hid in the Aravell. This dragon was whole.
With a crack of their wings, the dragon streaked forwards, twisting and spiralling in the air. A fire ignited within Valerys, and he surged after the purple scaled dragon, throwing all caution to the wind. Calen pulled their minds together, a rush of pure elation flooding him. Valerys was not alone. They were not alone. This dragon was bound.
Valerys followed after the purple dragon, mimicking their every move. Calen's joy came with a bitter aftertaste. This feeling was what Valerys deserved; such a simple thing, to not feel alone. Calen had been told of the elven dragons at the battle near Steeple. But from what Therin and the others had told him, any Draleid that fought alongside the Lynalion elves would not consider Calen and Valerys to be kin. Though, given everything, that could be lies too.
The dragons soared through the valley, their tails creating ripples along the river before they swept upwards, climbing towards the temple that was nestled into the rock of the mountain ahead.
The enormous purple dragon surged past the stone platform that jutted from the rock before looping backwards in the air and alighting on the stone.
Valerys slowed as he reached the platform, unwilling to attempt the same feat of aerial acrobatics. He rose past the platform's edge, then hung for a moment, a beat of his wings carrying him forwards, his talons clicking against stone as he landed.
The purple-scaled dragon stood before them, forelimbs pressed against the stone, head bowed. An elf stood before the dragon, hair dark and robes darker. Her forehead was pressed to the dragon's snout.
Calen slid from Valerys's back, softening his landing with threads of Air. He could feel Valerys looming over him as the elf approached. She was a few inches shorter than he was. Her skin was pale, eyes dark and sunken. A scar cleft her lip on the right side. She stared at Calen with an unsettling intensity as she walked. The purple-scaled dragon moved behind her, shimmering yellow eyes watching.
"I am Calen Bryer." Calen took a step towards the elf, trying to push any of his lingering fear down. He fought his instinct to drop his hand to his sword as she walked towards him wordlessly. This was a Dragonguard – one of those who had turned their back on The Order. At least, that was the story he'd been told. He'd come here to find the truth. Pellenor had not tried to kill him. He needed to have faith. If he didn't try, then he would have wasted his time in coming here. "I've come because—"
The elf crashed into him like a sack of stones, wrapping her arms around him, squeezing him like a long-lost friend. "I'd prayed you'd come, brother. I'd prayed, but I dared not hope."
Calen froze, unsure how to respond.
The elf pulled away and touched her fingers tenderly against Calen's left cheek, smiling. "Draleid n'aldryr, Calen. Laël Tivar Savinír. Din närvarvin gryrr haydria til myia elwyn." Dragonbound by fire, Calen. I am Tivar Savinír. Your presence brings honour to my heart.
"Draleid n'aldryr," Calen repeated. He had not expected her to be so open. "Det er diar acea gryrr haydria til myialí." It is yours that brings honour to mine.
The smile on Tivar's lips spread even wider as Calen spoke the Old Tongue. Her touch lingered on his cheek before she pulled her hand away and looked to Valerys. "He is the most beautiful sight I have set eyes on in four hundred years." Her voice was almost a whisper, laced with awe and reverence. "His name?"
"Valerys."
Valerys lowered his head, pressing his snout against Tivar's open palm. Comfort and belonging filled the dragon's mind.
"Ice," Tivar whispered as she rested her palm against Valerys's scales. "It's perfect." She pressed her forehead against Valerys's snout, then gestured to the purple dragon. "Valerys, anarie myia nithríen, Avandeer."
Valerys, meet my soulkin, Avandeer.
Valerys lifted his head, his lavender eyes studying Avandeer. Warmth spread through Valerys, tempered only by a thin layer of caution as he stretched his neck towards the larger dragon. A low rumble in Valerys's throat was echoed by Avandeer. The purple dragon nuzzled the side of her scaled snout into Valerys's jaw. The sound that resonated in Avandeer's chest was something Calen could only compare to a purr.
As Calen let his mind slip into Valerys's, he could feel Avandeer's scales against his. The feeling of belonging that spread through Valerys brought Calen a kind of joy that he had not felt in years.
Avandeer nudged her snout into Valerys, then lowered her head, her eyes – the colour of liquid marigold – staring into Calen's. The dragon's snout was twice the width of Calen's shoulders, her nostrils as large as his head. The blending of purple and white along the scales of her face reminded Calen of the petals of the gloxinia flowers Vars had brought back for Freis from one of his visits to Camylin. The dragon was one of the single most beautiful creatures Calen had ever laid eyes on. Her nostrils flared, and she blew a puff of warm air over Calen's face, her head tilting sideways.
Calen reached out his hand, and Avandeer extended her neck. She rested her snout into his palm, then pushed forwards and pressed into his chest, blowing another puff of warm air. Calen spread his arms wide, resting his palms either side of the dragon's snout, his fingers tracing over the furrows and fused scars.
None of the dragons in Aravell had ever greeted him this way. They had barely paid him a passing glance. They had lost their reason to seek joy. Avandeer was whole. Her soulkin was at her side, and the world still held meaning. The dragons in Aravell had lost everything they loved. They were Rakina.
As Avandeer lifted her head and once again nuzzled against Valerys's snout, Calen looked to Tivar. "I hadn't expected anyone to be here."
"I have not left this island in a hundred years." Tivar gave Calen a melancholy-touched smile. "I assume you have come for answers?"
"Truthfully? I don't know what I've come for. Pellenor told me that if I came here, if I lit the beacon on the temple's roof, that he would come. I…" Calen wondered what he could truly say or, rather, what he should say. Could he really trust this elf? "I want to know what happened to The Order. I want to know why."
A tear glistened on Tivar's cheek. She let it fall and shook her head. "Pellenor is dead."
The words cut through Calen like a knife. There was no possible way they could be true. The man Calen had met in the Inquisition dungeons was not someone who could die. Calen had heard a Dragonguard had died in the battle near Steeple. But he'd not even considered it could have been Pellenor. The man had held himself as though he were a god.
"He and Meranta fell in the Battle of The Three Sisters. Slain by those we once called kin." Tivar looked past Calen, towards the horizon. "Pellenor was special. He was one of the kindest souls I ever knew."
Calen swallowed. He still couldn't process everything. "Why did you do it? I need to know why."
Tivar took a step closer and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Come, I will tell you whatever you want to know. But not here. I will take you to a place where the blood of your kin flows through the stone."
Calen and Valerys followed Tivar and Avandeer through the valleys of Dracaldryr. As they flew, Tivar pointed towards ancient eyries that were carved into the mountainsides – cavities in the rock large enough to fit Valerys five times over. According to Tivar, the eyries had once been the homes of the first dragons, and after that the entire island had been a sanctuary for the Draleid of The Order, a place where dragons could truly be free.
Avandeer and Tivar alighted on a platform that had clearly been carved from the mountainside using the Spark. The platform was semi-circular in shape and large enough to fit almost ten dragons of Avandeer's size. Its surface was impossibly smooth with rune markings carved around its rim.
On the other side of the platform, two enormous dragon statues framed an opening that Valerys could have walked through with his wings spread to his fullest. The statues rose at least a hundred feet, every scale looking as though it had been carved by the hand of the most delicate sculptor the world had ever seen. The two stone dragons faced out towards the platform, their wings close to their chests, their neck stretched high.
Calen slid from Valerys's back, his boots clicking against the stone.
"They can come," Tivar said, gesturing to Avandeer and Valerys. "But I believe it would be best to allow Valerys to experience what it is to truly fly free. I promise you, not only will his joy be unmatched, but your heart will shine too."
Calen turned as a rumble resonated in Valerys's chest. The dragon bowed his head, and Calen nodded. Without hesitation, both Valerys and Avandeer dove from the edge of the platform, their tails whipping back and forth, their wings spreading wide.
"This place is known as Üvrian un'Aldryr – Cradle of Fire."
Calen followed Tivar through the entranceway, staring up at the stone dragons as he did. A tunnel lay on the other side, as wide as the entrance. The walls of the tunnel were smooth as polished steel, veins of glowing azure erinian stone rippling through them. A staircase of hewn stone descended into the mountain, dropping so deep Calen thought it had no end.
A smile spread across Tivar's face as she gazed up at the veins of erinian stone. "In the time of The Order, this was where the dragon eggs of the great draconian lines were cared for. In each mortal generation, only hundreds were brought here from each race. And of those hundreds, we would be lucky if even four or five heard the Calling. Often, not a single egg would hatch."
Tivar led Calen down the staircase, their steps echoing through the tunnel, the glow of the erinian stone growing dimmer as they descended. When they finally reached the bottom, they stepped out into a large circular chamber that rose to a dome at the ceiling. The chamber was mostly shrouded in dark, only the residual glow of the tunnel's erinian stone providing any light.
"The sun's light isn't strong enough here to charge the erinian stone," Tivar explained, her footsteps echoing as she walked to the centre of the shadow-obscured chamber. Calen felt her reach out to the Spark and draw in threads of Fire, Air, and Spirit. A baldír burst into life beside her, illuminating the chamber in a pure white light.
With the shadows pushed back to the far corners of the chamber, Calen could see that Tivar stood atop a black stone symbol of The Order – a central triangle, with the smaller triangles placed at the sides. A number of alcoves were built into the walls of the chamber, each holding statues of figures in plate armour, The Order's sigil on the breast.
"The first Archons." Tivar cast her gaze around the chamber before walking towards the far well, which was devoid of statues. "The Archons could only hold their title for ten years at a time." Her voice echoed as she walked, bouncing off the high ceiling. "At the end of the Archon's time, each of the Draleid would vote on who would lead them."
Calen followed Tivar, stopping beside her at the far wall. An elaborately carved semi-circle of runes decorated the outer rim of what looked to be a large doorway, but the centre was filled with stone. Calen thought he could hear the sound of crashing water coming from the other side.
"The last Archon, Alvira Serris—" Tivar pulled a small yellow stone from her pocket. Veins of red and blue ran across its surface. She channelled threads of Fire and Spirit into the stone "—had served two terms by The Fall. Had her eyes been open to the rot within our people, perhaps she would still be here."
Calen was about to speak when the stone glowed a bright yellow, and the wall before them vanished leaving only the outer rune markings. "A glamour."
"Indeed." Tivar gestured for Calen to follow her through the now-open passage.
"Tivar, what happened…" Calen stopped speaking as he walked through the passage.
Before him a walkway of smooth stone stretched towards an open chamber that lay a few hundred feet away. A waterfall crashed on either side of the entrance Calen had just walked through, rivers bracketing the walkway. But what pulled the air from Calen's lungs were the dragon statues carved from the rock on either side. The statues rose for hundreds of feet, every detail as crisp as the living breathing creatures from which the statues gained their likeness. Calen counted five on each side of the walkway. Veins of glowing erinian stone rippled through them, accented by the warm sunlight that poured into the cavern from openings in the ceiling that lay hundreds of feet in the air.
When Calen pulled his gaze from the statues, he found himself looking into Tivar's eyes.
"We failed, Calen. That's what happened. I don't know what you've been told. Eltoar said it was Aeson Virandr who brought Valerys's egg to these shores." Tivar shook her head, sorrow marked in every line of her face. "The events he told you are likely true, Aeson is an honourable man, but the hows and the whys will differ from mine. I will give you the only thing I can. The only thing that matters – honesty. I will not shy away from what we did."
"We were meant to protect," she said, as she started off towards the chamber at the other end of the walkway. "We were supposed to be guardians. But we lost our way. The Order was founded after the Blodvar, after the Doom at Haedr. The Jotnar and my ancestors banded together for the first time in recorded history. Before that, all our people knew was death and war. The Order was meant to be something separate. It was meant to be untethered from the powers of the continent. But as the centuries past and turned to millennium, the world shifted. The Order's council slowly gained more power than the Archon and elders of the Draleid.
"It had been suggested that the Draleid had too much power and increasing the council's authority would be safer for the people. But where our ancestors lived to see centuries pass, the council members were fleeting. Ideals changed, nations rose and fell, and with it at all, the council and The Order itself became nothing more than a power broker. It no longer stood for honour or for duty – it no longer stood for anything. The Draleid had become little more than the enforcers of the richest kings and queens. If a nation could put gold in The Order's coffers, the Draleid flew at their backs." Tivar let out a long sigh. "Eventually, it grew to the point we didn't wait for gold or coin or power, we sought it out."
Tivar stopped. She stared up at one of the dragon statues, the muscles in her jaw tensing. Her breaths trembled. Calen could feel her pain – hear it in every word, see it in her eyes. She turned to him, her eyes wet with tears. "We started wars. The Lyonin War, the Ingdrin War, and many others. If someone spoke against The Order, they were silenced in the name of peace. If there was gold to be made, people burned. Alvira always stood against it. She was…" Tivar's voice caught in her throat, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. "She was special – the most honourable soul I've ever known. But she couldn't, or wouldn't, allow herself to see what was broken. That is honour's fatal flaw – it blinds us. She disagreed with the council at every turn, yet she rode Vyldrar to war on their orders. We still believed ourselves to be guardians, but we were nothing more than mercenaries and tyrants."
Tivar went silent, her gaze focused on something Calen could not see. "It all changed when Fane came back from Mar Dorul. He fed off our division. You need to understand, people were dying by our hand, cities were burning. We had tried to speak out, tried to fix The Order from within, but it was like trying to put out a fire with our bare hands. Fane was a revolutionary. He stoked the flames in our hearts, convinced us that if we truly were the guardians we believed we were, then we needed to have the courage to stand against the tyranny of The Order and of our own kind. What fools we were."
Tivar drew in a long breath and continued along the walkway. Ahead Calen could see the chamber was cylindrical in shape, hundreds of alcoves set into its walls, rising higher and higher. An opening was carved into the ceiling in the shape of The Order's sigil.
"Fane filled our hearts with hate and our ears with lies. He could weave stories like the greatest bards. It was as though he could see into people's souls. He knew precisely what you wanted and precisely how to twist you. But as charismatic and convincing as Fane was, if he had not turned Eltoar to his side, I do not believe the others would have followed. But he did, and we did. After a time, he began whispering of Efilatír – not The Traitor, but The Saviour. At first, his words found no home. But then he showed us the power Efialtír possessed. The power we would need to win – Essence, or Blood Magic as you might know it. But Essence seeps into your soul, Calen. Efialtír's touch clouds your mind and your heart. Its effect is slow and poisonous. It makes you capable of things you would never have contemplated… Such horrible things. It hungers…" Tivar's eyes glassed over for a moment, lost in a memory. "I swear to you we believed we were doing the right thing. The night Ilnaen fell was the darkest night in the history of our people." Tivar stopped as the pathway joined to the floor of the cylindrical chamber. "And for the atrocities we committed, for our betrayal, for our hubris, this is what the gods have left us."
Tivar gestured towards the walls of the cylindrical chamber, her gaze tracing across the many alcoves. "In four hundred years, not one has hatched."
Calen stepped forwards, every hair standing on end. He could feel Valerys's pulse quicken with his own as the dragon alighted on a cliff. Their minds drifted together as Calen looked about the chamber. "Are they all dragon eggs? There must be hundreds."
"Four hundred and seventy-three. Not a single one has hatched since Ilnaen. At first we thought it coincidence. Maybe the trauma or the change in the world had affected something. But when weeks turned to months, turned to years, decades, centuries, we knew something was wrong. Eltoar has brought tens of thousands of people here over the years – nothing. But…" Calen turned at the glimmer of hope that crept into Tivar's voice. "Perhaps, with Valerys. If his egg hatched, maybe the others will? Maybe the gods have forgiven us?"
"No." Calen's heart twisted for dashing the one sliver of brightness he had seen in Tivar. "The elves have been trying for months. Nothing."
Calen saw the hope die in Tivar's eyes. She nodded slowly. "The dragons suffer for the things we've done." Tivar lifted her gaze to meet Calen's. "If Valerys's egg hatched… that has to mean something. It has to."
"What about the elven dragons, the ones that fought at Steeple?"
Tivar shook his head. "Eltoar said they were too old, too hardened. They are survivors of The Fall. New life does not come with them. They bring only death, as we did."
Calen walked over towards the nearest alcove in the wall. The egg within was coated in scales that were crimson at their root but slowly transitioned to cream at the edges. He brushed his thumb over the cream edge of one of the scales. "Would you make the same decision again?"
"No. We should have tried harder. We should have been better. We let Fane's lies twist us."
"Tell me of the others – the Dragonguard. Pellenor said there are those I shouldn't trust." Aeson, Therin, and the Rakina had told Calen of the Dragonguard, gone through them one by one, but he couldn't trust anything anymore.
"Jormun, Ilkya, and Voranur." Not a heartbeat had passed before Tivar spoke the names. Calen turned to see her walking towards the river that flowed through the right of the cavern. He followed.
Tivar sat on the edge of the walkway and folded her legs, staring at the rushing water. Calen sat beside her.
"Four hundred years is a long time to spend reliving every decision you've ever made – especially as you watch more and more of your kin die until there's barely any of you left. That time affected each of us differently. Jormun, Voranur, and Ilkya grew apathetic towards life. Death and power became them. Of the eight of us that are left, they are the only three I believe still fight for Fane and Efialtír in their hearts. Eltoar is still blinded by his friendship to Fane, just as Alvira was by honour. He doesn't see that we are simply pawns, but I believe he is truly trying to find a way back to what we once were. And his left wing, Lyina, she is a shimmering gem. She's one of the few who would ever challenge him – she and Pellenor." Tivar went silent for a moment, staring down at the water. "My companions, Erdin and Luka, left the continent decades ago, unable to cope with the world we had helped create."
They sat there talking of what the world had once been like. Chora, Harken, and the other Rakina had told Calen their version of The Order, but through Tivar's eyes, he saw the other side – the darkness, the power lust, the tyranny. After hours had passed, Tivar pulled herself to her feet. "Come. I'm not sure how long you intend to stay. We should eat."
As they made their way to the staircase that led to the platform, Calen asked the question that had been lingering in his mind. "What was Aeson Virandr like, before?"
Tivar gave a weak smile. "I could feel the uncertainty in you the moment you arrived. I told you I would be honest, and I will. Aeson was one of the greatest warriors the Draleid had seen in centuries, and he was exactly like Alvira. He idolised her." Tivar stopped at the entrance to the chamber that fronted the stairs, letting out a breath. She turned to look Calen in the eyes. "Aeson lost everything because of what we did. Everything. I'm not sure who he is now, but I can tell you he was someone I respected." Once more, tears welled in Tivar's eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. "If he is even half the man he once was, he is better than most."
Calen nodded, sighing. He went to speak, but a shiver swept over his skin, fear and dread pouring into him from Valerys like molten fire. He saw from the look in Tivar's eyes that she was seeing the same thing through Avandeer as he was through Valerys: the sunlight fading, a red glow sweeping across the sky.
They both turned to look back into the cavern. The light that drifted through the openings in the ceiling turned red as blood and dripped down the walls and into the alcoves that held the dragon eggs.
Without a word, Calen and Tivar broke into a run. Calen's heart pounded like a hammer on an anvil, his chest heaving, his lungs dragging in air. His legs burned as he charged up through the chamber and up the seemingly endless staircase.
Crimson light poured down the tunnel, blending with the azure glow of the erinian stone. Calen's lungs felt as though they had been set on fire by the time he'd reached the top of the stairs. It had been only the start of the new day when he and Tivar had descended into the cradle, but now the world had darkened as though it were the dead of night. A crimson moon hung in the sky, its light spreading across the horizon, tainting everything it touched. As Avandeer and Valerys swept past the ledge and alighted on the platform that jutted from the mountainside, Valerys's scales shimmered with a pink hue.
"The Blood Moon," Tivar whispered, dread in her voice.
Calen stared out at the blood-tinted sky, trying to muster words. "I need to go," he said. "I can't leave the others alone."
"I understand." Tivar's face was a sombre one, a deep sorrow in her eyes. "It was a true honour to meet you, Calen Bryer. I only wish it could have been for longer."
"Come with me." The words left Calen's mouth before he'd truly thought on them. What would Aeson, Chora, and the others do if he brought Tivar back?
The shock on Tivar's face was briefly replaced by a quiet contemplation. She shook her head. "I cannot. I am not what I once was, Calen. I am not a Draleid. I am a monster. The things I have done can never be undone. The stains on my soul can never be cleansed. I am darkness."
"I'll come back, I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep." Tivar pulled Calen into an embrace, her hands clasping his back. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For showing me our kind still has a chance."
Calen squeezed a bit tighter, then pulled away and mounted Valerys. "'We were supposed to be guardians'. Those were your words." He looked to the crimson moon, then back to Tivar. "I've been told that what is coming is worse than anything we've ever seen. You might never forgive yourself for what you did. You might not deserve to be forgiven. But if you truly believe what you said, then guardians are what we should be, no matter what we deserve. I will come back. But if you change your mind, I will be in the Aravell. Draleid n'aldryr, Tivar Savinír."
"Draleid n'aldryr, Calen Bryer."
Calen drew in a short breath, nodded, and then Valerys dove from the platform.