The Journey, Book 2; Chapter 32 - Previous Chapter
Chapter 33: Unexpected
The wind hissed softly past Tara’s ears as Elqiana’s vast wings beat a steady rhythm through the skies, each down stroke carrying them further across the emerald sweep of the forests below. The raven, Loki, perched easily on Elqiana’s opal-scaled head, his sharp eyes darting from horizon to treetops, feathers ruffling as though catching secrets on the breeze.
They had been flying for days, stopping only when necessary, the sheer distance to Edena reminding Tara of just how far from home she had drifted. She leaned slightly against Elqiana’s warm neck, her braid whipping behind her in the wind, eyes scanning the endless green. Below, rivers coiled like silver serpents, villages dotted the land here and there, and in between lay vast, unbroken wilderness.
It was Elqiana’s mind that reached into hers first, calm and steady, Still nothing out of place. The roads are quiet, the settlements as they should be. All is unchanged so far.
Tara exhaled, though her gaze remained fixed on the horizon. After a long silence, she asked softly into their shared bond, 'How far are we from Littleton?' The name tasted strange on her tongue, familiar yet distant, as if it belonged to another life.
Elqiana’s head shifted slightly, angling her gaze to the southeast. 'A couple of hours’ flight, no more,' the dragon replied, her mental tone even though there was a weight in it Tara had learned to recognise, the dragon always measured her words when it came to Tara’s past.
Tara chewed her lip, fingers brushing the cool scales beneath her. Can we… can we fly over it? Just once?
There was a pause, not of refusal, but of consideration. Then Elqiana rumbled low in her chest, a sound Tara felt more than heard. 'If that is what you wish, little one. It will bring no harm to pass over.'
Relief mingled with nerves fluttered in Tara’s stomach. She nodded, though she knew Elqiana felt her hesitation regardless. “Thank you,” she whispered aloud, the wind carrying her voice away.
The wind rushed past Tara’s face as she leaned into Elqiana’s steady rhythm, the opal-white dragon gliding smooth and silent over the endless stretch of green below. Her heart tightened as the thought of Littleton crept in, memories unspoolling like threads she hadn’t touched in years.
She remembered the way the air always smelled faintly of baking bread when she was a child, the laughter of children darting between homes, the creak of the old hanging tree’s branches as they swayed above the settlement. She remembered the sound of the forge ringing with life, and her mother’s voice calling her home from play.
That was the Littleton she held in her heart.
'We are close,' Elqiana’s calm voice filled her mind.
Tara straightened in the saddle, anticipation blooming. But Elqiana’s tone sharpened a heartbeat later. 'Something is wrong.'
Tara blinked, confused. “Wrong?” she whispered aloud. She strained her eyes against the horizon, but Elqiana’s sight was keener.
The dragon banked lower, and Tara’s breath caught. She saw it now. The ruins.
The village had been reduced to rubble and ash. Roofs collapsed, homes gutted, beams blackened and broken. The square at the centre of town was littered with decay—bodies left unburried, bones and withered flesh scattered like discarded cloth. Carrion birds feasted openly, their harsh caws carrying up into the sky. The smell hit Tara all at once, rot and smoke mingling into a stench that made her stomach churn.
Her hand covered her mouth. “No…” she whispered. Her chest ached with the crushing weight of grief, disbelief, and anger all at once. This can’t be Littleton. Not my home…
Elqiana’s wings shifted, circling lower. Below, a small figure moved.
At first, Tara didn’t notice, too consumed by the devastation. But then Loki’s harsh voice cut through the fog of her thoughts, his wings spreading as he squawked: "Something moves!"
Her eyes snapped downward.
In the middle of the ruin, a boy no older than twelve darted across the square. His tiny hands waved frantically at the carrion birds, trying in vain to drive them away from the corpses. His hair was matted with soot, his face streaked with grime and tears. He stumbled, fell, then scrambled back to his feet, desperation etched into every movement.
But then Elqiana’s vast shadow swept over him.
He froze. His head turned upward, eyes going wide with raw terror. The birds scattered in a storm of wings. With a strangled cry, the boy bolted for the old hanging tree, pressing himself against its gnarled trunk as though it could shield him from the dragon descending from the sky.
Tara’s breath hitched. Her hands fumbled for the straps of her saddle. She knew that face, even caked in soot and fear, she knew.
“Jacob…” she whispered, her heart twisting.
Elqiana’s wings tilted, slowing her descent, and she stretched out a foreleg toward the shattered ground. Tara barely waited for the dragon to steady before unbuckling the straps. With a practised swing she slid down the dragon’s foreleg, landing hard but rolling with the impact, boots scraping against the ash-streaked soil.
The air was thick with the stench of smoke and rot, the cries of the carrion birds still circling overhead. Tara pushed herself upright, her heart pounding as her eyes locked on the boy trembling beneath the twisted branches of the hanging tree.
“Jacob…” she breathed, the name tasting strange after so many years. He had been younger when she last saw him, a bright-eyed child clinging to his mother’s skirts. Now his face was streaked with soot and terror, his frame thinner, but she knew him all the same.
He flinched at her voice, clutching the bark of the tree as if it might swallow him whole. His eyes darted from her to Elqiana’s towering form behind, wide with fear.
Tara raised her hands slowly, palms open, her voice soft but carrying across the silence.
“Jacob… it’s me. It’s Tara. Do you remember? I used to play with you, near the well. Your father taught me how to mend fishing nets.”
The boy’s chest heaved, his lips trembling, but he didn’t move.
Tara took a cautious step closer, lowering her voice to a near whisper. “You’re safe now. She won’t hurt you, Elqiana won’t hurt anyone. I promise.”
Behind her, Elqiana dipped her head, the opal scales catching the dim light like liquid pearl. She folded her wings tightly, making herself smaller, her gaze soft and unthreatening as she watched the boy. Loki flapped down from her head to the tree’s upper branches, his black feathers rustling.
Jacob’s eyes flicked between Tara and the dragon. His small hands gripped the bark until his knuckles whitened, his body trembling.
Tara’s throat tightened, but she pressed forward another step, her hand reaching out, trembling just slightly. “Come here, Jacob. Please. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”
For a long moment, he only stared, as if frozen in place. Then, with a sob that cracked from his chest, Jacob stumbled forward, his legs shaking beneath him. Tara dropped to her knees, arms open, and when he reached her, he threw himself into her embrace, clinging to her as though she were the last unbroken piece of the world he knew.
Tara closed her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his soot-streaked hair, her eyes burning with tears.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered fiercely. “I’ve got you, Jacob.”
Tara knelt in the ash as Jacob clung to her, his thin frame shaking violently in her arms. She rocked him gently, murmuring soft reassurances, but soon the boy tried to speak. His breath hitched, the words catching in his throat before spilling out in broken fragments.
“H–he… he came…” Jacob’s voice cracked, and he buried his face against Tara’s shoulder, clutching at her tunic as if afraid she’d vanish if he let go. “Rubian. I saw him. The soldiers—s-so many soldiers—they surrounded us, all around, and no one could run. No one…”
Tara’s chest tightened, her fingers pressing protectively against the back of his soot-stained hair. “It’s alright,” she whispered, though her heart knew it wasn’t. “Take your time, Jacob. I’m listening.”
Jacob pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes swollen and bloodshot, streaks of tears cutting through the grime on his cheeks. His lips trembled as he tried again, words tumbling out in a rush of panic.
“They—th-they killed them all.” His little hands gestured helplessly toward the ruins, toward the broken, lifeless forms scattered across the ground. “My mother, my father… everyone. They fell, all of them fell. I tried to—tried to wake them but…” His voice broke into a sob, and he pressed his fists against his eyes.
Tara swallowed hard, her throat tight, but she held him steady, refusing to let him drown alone in his grief.
Jacob’s voice rose, frantic, as if forcing himself to get it out before the memory consumed him. “Rubian—he was smiling. And then—then he raised his hands—grey fire, Tara, grey fire! It poured from his fingers, burning, tearing—people screamed—and then nothing, nothing left!”
His words collapsed into sobs again, his whole body trembling in her arms as if the memory itself still seared him. Loki gave a sharp, mournful croak from the branches above, and Elqiana bowed her head lower, her great eyes shimmering with sorrow.
Tara hugged Jacob tighter, her tears finally spilling freely. “You don’t have to say more,” she whispered, voice thick. “You don’t have to. I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
Jacob only wept harder, clutching her with desperate strength, as though clinging to the only person left in the world who could still anchor him.
Tara held Jacob close, his small body shaking so hard she feared he might break apart in her arms. His sobs came in ragged gasps against her shoulder, each word about Rubian echoing like a brand across her heart. Grey fire. Smiling. Death.
Her chest burned. Rage welled up inside her like molten steel, rage at Rubian, at the soldiers who had followed his command, at the merciless cruelty that had reduced her home to ash. This wasn’t just the destruction of a village, it was the shattering of lives, of her childhood, of the quiet place that had once been filled with laughter and the smell of bread from her mother’s oven. Now it was nothing but carrion and soot.
Rubian will pay. The thought came fierce, unyielding. Her hands curled into fists even as she held Jacob tighter, silently promising him he would never be left alone again.
Then, like a lantern breaking through the darkness, Neko’s face flashed in her mind. His hand in hers by the fire. His quiet sigh when their foreheads pressed together. His kiss, tender yet full of longing. The bracelet she had given him. She drew a shaky breath, clutching to the memory as though it tethered her to strength. I’ll protect him, and I’ll protect this boy. I won’t let Rubian take anything more from me.
Jacob whimpered, dragging her back to the moment. She pulled back just enough to cup his dirty cheek, forcing her voice steady. “Jacob. You’re not alone. I swear to you, I’ll keep you safe.”
In her mind, Elqiana’s voice rumbled, heavy with caution. 'Tara. We need to go. It’s not safe here. The stench of death will draw more than carrion birds… we could be ambushed.'
Tara nodded, jaw set. She turned her gaze back to Jacob, wiping some soot and tears from his cheek with her thumb. “Jacob, can fly with us. Elqiana will carry us, but we need to leave quickly. It’s the only way.”
Jacob hiccuped through his tears, his frightened eyes darting toward the opal-white dragon looming nearby. He shrank back at first, but Tara tightened her hold gently, reassuringly. “She won’t hurt you. She’s my family… she’ll protect you too.”
Elqiana lowered her head, her vast golden eyes softening, as if to offer a wordless promise. In Tara’s mind she murmured, 'I will carry him. But we must rise fast, Tara, before eyes unfriendly to us catch sight of wings in the sky.'
Tara met the dragon’s gaze and gave a single, firm nod. Then she looked back to Jacob. “Will you trust me?” she asked softly.
The boy sniffled, trembling, but slowly nodded, his tiny fists still gripping at her tunic. Tara exhaled deeply, her resolve hardening like tempered steel. They had to move.
Tara didn’t waste another second. She scooped Jacob into her arms, his small hands clutching desperately at her neck, and hurried toward Elqiana’s lowered foreleg. The dragon’s scales shimmered faintly in the grey light, her massive body taut with urgency. Loki squawked sharply from his perch atop her head, wings half-spread as though urging them to hurry.
Elqiana rumbled a deep, guttural growl, the sound rolling through the ruined settlement like thunder. The carrion birds exploded upward in a flurry of black wings and shrieks, scattering from the feast of death below. Jacob buried his face against Tara’s chest, whimpering at the sheer force of the dragon’s voice.
“Hold on to me,” Tara whispered fiercely, adjusting her grip. She scrambled up Elqiana’s leg, climbing with practised movements despite the extra weight in her arms. Her muscles screamed from the effort, but she didn’t stop until she’d swung them both into the saddle.
“Stay still, Jacob,” she instructed quickly, her fingers working fast to secure the straps across him first, then herself. The boy shook so hard the buckles rattled, but she tightened each one with steady hands, refusing to let her fear seep through. When the last strap snapped into place, she wrapped one arm protectively around him.
“Now!” she called.
Elqiana surged forward, wings unfurling like great sails, her powerful muscles coiling beneath them. With a single, shuddering leap she threw them into the air, rubble and ash scattering below as her talons left the earth. Loki launched from her head in the same instant, circling above them with a loud, triumphant caw.
The ground dropped away sharply. Jacob screamed, clinging tighter to Tara, but she held him fast, pressing her lips close to his ear. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
Elqiana beat her wings hard, the air tearing past them as they climbed higher, higher, until the wreck of Littleton shrank beneath them into nothing more than a scar on the land. Only then did Tara dare to look back, her heart thundering with fury and grief, and an iron vow that Rubian’s fire would not go unanswered.
The air roared in Jacob’s ears, tearing at his soot-matted hair as Elqiana climbed higher. His screams faltered into broken sobs, then into a stunned silence. He risked opening his eyes, slowly looking forward.
Below them the forest spread like an endless green ocean, the smoking ruin of Littleton shrinking to a blackened wound among the trees. Above, the clouds broke open into pale gold light, the horizon rolling in all directions.
Jacob’s breath hitched, caught between fear and something else entirely. “We’re… flying…” he whispered hoarsely, his voice shaking but threaded with awe. His small hands loosened just slightly from their death grip on Tara’s arm, trembling now for a different reason.
Tara felt the shift in him, the way terror gave way to wonder, however fragile. She pressed her cheek against his soot-streaked hair, her arms holding him steady as Elqiana carried them effortlessly into the sky.
Loki cawed loudly from above, wings flashing blue-ish black in the sun as if echoing the boy’s fragile amazement. Elqiana’s voice slipped gently into Tara’s mind: 'He is braver than he knows. He will endure this.'
Tara swallowed hard, her jaw tight with rage and grief, but she let Jacob’s wonder anchor her too. Even in the ashes of destruction, life still looked up.
The wind whistled past, carrying the smell of ash away as Elqiana levelled out into a steady glide. Tara held Jacob firmly, letting his trembling awe anchor against her own fury. His wide eyes drank in the endless expanse of sky, but she couldn’t tear hers from the memory of the churned earth below, scarred with the weight of marching feet.
There were too many, she told Elqiana silently, her thoughts sharp as blades. The ground was torn apart, there must have been a whole company, maybe more, to surround Littleton like that.
Elqiana’s agreement came as a low, steady hum in her mind. Yes. Too many. Not a raid, not a handful of soldiers… an order. A purge.
Before Tara could respond, another voice, clear and cold, slipped into her thoughts. Loki’s voice. Not the half-croaked mutters she was used to, but crystalline words, sharp as glass.
'Rubian would not have done this on his own,' the raven said, each word deliberate. 'He would not waste his fire, nor his time, unless Thomaz commanded it.'
Tara’s breath caught, a chill deeper than the sky’s wind shivering down her spine. Her arms tightened around Jacob, as if she could shield him from the weight of that truth.
Tara’s grip tightened on the saddle straps as Elqiana’s wings beat steady against the wind. Jacob shifted in her arms, clinging but silent, still lost in awe. She focused her thoughts toward her dragon, repeating Loki’s words.
'He said Rubian wouldn’t have done this unless Thomaz told him to.'
Elqiana’s eyes narrowed as she flew, her mind-voice low and edged with unease. 'If Thomaz gave the order… then where was Thomaz himself?'
The question lingered like a shadow, but before Tara could dwell on it, Elqiana sent her a sharp image, a vision of another village, blackened and charred, its homes reduced to skeletal husks. Smoke still bled faintly from the ruin. The ground there too was churned and scarred, gouged by boots and blades, soaked with fire.
Tara’s chest tightened. She turned her thoughts to Loki. 'She just showed me another village. Burnt to the ground as well… the ground torn up, the same as Littleton.'
Loki gave a sudden, violent squawk. It burst so loud it jolted Jacob, who gasped and clutched tighter to Tara’s arm, his eyes wide. Tara leaned her head down toward him, murmuring softly, “It’s alright, Jacob. It’s alright. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
Above them, Loki ruffled his feathers, pacing once across Elqiana’s head. Then his voice slid into Tara’s mind, clipped and grim. 'I’ll investigate. See what’s left. I’ll return shortly.'
Without waiting for a reply, the raven launched himself from Elqiana’s crown. His wings sliced the air, his dark shape dwindling against the pale clouds until he was nothing more than a flicker on the horizon.
Tara hugged Jacob closer, rocking him gently as Elqiana sliced through the clouds, the wind tugging at their cloaks and hair. The boy’s trembling eased slightly under her steadying presence, his wide eyes slowly following the sweep of the sky rather than the ruins below. Tara whispered soft reassurances, letting her calm strength flow into him, letting him feel safe despite the devastation they had witnessed.
Hours passed in quiet motion, the only sound the rush of wind past Elqiana’s wings and Jacob’s occasional soft breaths. Then, in the distance, a familiar shadow appeared, slicing through the sky with sharp precision. Tara squinted, and a relief she hadn’t realised she was holding in flooded through her. Loki was returning.
Elqiana arched her wings, slowing into a graceful glide. Tara adjusted her hold on Jacob, letting him sink against her as the raven landed lightly atop Elqiana’s head. Loki’s feathers ruffled in the wind, and his sharp eyes locked onto Tara’s.
'This was… more manic,' his voice rang in her mind, clipped and urgent. 'It was definitely Thomaz. Everything burnt to the ground. I came across a body… the head caved in, many different feet… this was an army.'
Tara stiffened, her heart hammering. An army? she thought, barely daring to breathe.
'Thomaz’s whole army,' Loki continued, 'split to attack two settlements at the same time.'
Tara tightened her hold on Jacob instinctively, his small form trembling again against her. She pressed a finger gently against his back, whispering soft comfort even as her own mind raced with the weight of Loki’s words.
Tara pressed Jacob gently against her chest, feeling the boy relax slightly under her arms. We need to get you somewhere safe, she thought, letting her gaze sweep over the horizon. Then, focusing on her companions in their shared mindspace, she spoke silently, 'Elqiana, Loki… we need to get Jacob to safety. The only place I can think of is Edena.'
Both answered immediately, their agreement clear in the rush of thought and subtle vibrations.
Jacob’s stomach rumbled loudly against her side, drawing a small smile through Tara’s worry. She reached into the saddlebag, pulling out some dry meat, and held it to him. He took it hesitantly at first, then hungrily, small crumbs falling onto his tunic as he nibbled.
Tara shifted slightly, keeping him steady against her as she asked, 'How long until we get to Edena?'
Elqiana’s voice came smoothly, calm but resolute. 'No rest. Two days and one night.'
Tara nodded, pressing her lips briefly against Jacob’s head. "We’ll make it. Just hold on." Her mind drifted momentarily to the long flight ahead, the responsibility weighing on her, but the warmth of Jacob’s small presence reminded her why she couldn’t fail.
The flight stretched endlessly, the wind cutting against their faces and whipping through Tara’s hair. Hours bled into one another as Elqiana’s powerful wings carried them tirelessly, Jacob pressed close against Tara, murmuring softly between bites of dry meat. The boy had calmed somewhat, but his wide, fearful eyes never strayed far from the landscape below.
Tara kept her mind linked with Elqiana and Loki, scanning constantly for threats. 'We can’t risk rest,' she reminded them both silently, Thomaz’s forces could be anywhere. Even the open sky seemed menacing now, shadows of clouds twisting like blades, and every distant movement below held the threat of soldiers descending upon them.
Hours blurred into exhaustion. Tara’s arms ached from holding Jacob steady, her shoulders stiff from the constant tension. Elqiana’s wings throbbed with fatigue, each beat more deliberate, each rise and fall slower than the last. Even so, the dragon kept her focus, carrying them tirelessly, her keen senses alert for the faintest sign of pursuit.
As the spires of Edena finally rose into view, relief bubbled briefly in Tara’s chest, though she didn’t dare let her guard down. She guided Jacob to sit a little straighter, brushing his hair back and murmuring reassurance.
But even in the final stretch, the journey remained tense. Elqiana stumbled slightly as she descended toward the courtyard, her tired wings lashing the air in a desperate effort to stabilise. The sudden jolt sent a small spray of dust into the air, and the civilians below gasped and scrambled away in alarm at the unexpected arrival of a massive opal-white dragon.
Jacob squeaked, clutching Tara tighter, and she murmured softly, "It’s alright, it’s alright, we’re safe."
Elqiana’s massive claws thudded into the cobblestone of the courtyard, shaking the ground slightly, but the dragon’s weight settled quickly as she lowered herself fully, wings folding with a tired rumble. Loki flapped onto her shoulder, ruffling his feathers and letting out a sharp squawk at the startled humans below.
Tara exhaled slowly, still braced over Jacob, her mind scanning the edges of the courtyard. "We’re here, she thought. We’re safe… for now."
Tara’s heart jumped as a familiar figure burst forward through the courtyard chaos, her mother, Cassandra. Her eyes locked onto Jacob instantly, recognition flashing across her face, but then they widened in confusion as she took in Tara’s soot-streaked form and the state of the boy in her arms.
Without hesitation, Tara undid the straps holding herself and Jacob in the saddle, carefully lowering them to the ground. Loki’s sharp gaze widened as he too recognised Cassandra, but the raven’s focus shifted quickly back to Tara and the boy, alert but restrained.
Cassandra’s hands moved instinctively, ushering them both inside with a mixture of urgency and relief. Tara paused for just a moment, glancing up at Elqiana, whose massive head tilted gently toward her. 'It’s okay, little redhead. I will sleep here for a little bit,' the dragon murmured in her mind.
Tara smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. 'Thank you, Elqi,' she whispered back silently.
Inside, the warm hearth and familiar surroundings offered a reprieve. A little while later, Tara and Jacob were bathed and changed. Jacob had found a quiet corner and was shovelling food into his mouth with the desperation of someone starved for days. Cassandra’s voice softened, tinged with concern. “He must have been starving.”
Tara nodded, her own throat tight. She recounted the devastation of Littleton, the soldiers, the grey fire, Rubian’s cruelty. Cassandra listened, her hand gripping Tara’s tightly as tears fell freely from both mother and daughter. They clung to one another, silent sobs shaking their bodies as they wept for the village, the lives lost, and the horrors Jacob had witnessed.
Tara froze for a heartbeat at the soft knock.. Then, a familiar presence threaded into her mind, calm but unmistakable. It’s me, Tivor.
Her chest tightened. She glanced quickly at her mother, who was still seated, eyes red-rimmed, the weight of grief still heavy on her shoulders. Tara wiped her own tears away, took a steadying breath, and walked across the room to open the door.
Tivor stepped inside, the air around him taut with quiet intensity. The left side of his face was marred by scars, his left eye pale and clouded, yet his elvish, raven-like features remained sharp, every line carved with a life of experience and hardship. He looked straight ahead, voice dry and measured. “Cassandra?”
Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, and her tone mirrored his, brittle and surprised. “Tivor?”
Tara stepped back, her brow furrowed, her voice uncertain. “You… you guys know each other?”
Before Tivor could answer, Cassandra’s hand shot out like lightning, striking him across the face. The slap was sharp and full of years of pent-up fury, splitting his lip. “For nineteen years, I hear absolutely nothing from you!” she hissed, voice trembling with rage and pain. “And you suddenly reappear!”
Tivor touched his bleeding lip, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue. His voice was low, calm, and almost resigned. “I deserve that… I definitely deserve that.”
Tara’s eyes widened, caught between shock and confusion as she tried to process the sudden eruption of emotions.
“So… Tarasque is your daughter?” Tivor asked finally, his voice quieter now, scanning between them. Then something shifted in his expression, the hard edge of memory softening. Recognition flickered in his eyes as he looked at Cassandra.
Cassandra’s gaze met his, steady but gentle now. She nodded softly.
Tara felt the weight of the moment press around her, the history between them suddenly palpable in the small, quiet room.
Tivor stumbled back a step, the room tilting slightly as his mind raced, flicking between Cassandra and Tara. Every detail, every echo of memory collided with the reality before him. Nineteen years ago, he and Cassandra had been inseparable, a bond forged in quiet moments and shared dreams. But then… the prophecy. The boy with no name. The weight of the secret had been too great.
He had to leave. Couldn’t stay. Couldn’t speak of it. Sworn to silence, he’d slipped away in the dead of night, leaving nothing but a simple letter: I’m sorry. I have to go. Never had he imagined he’d see Cassandra again, the one person who had broken him free from the solitude that had hollowed him, giving him purpose and warmth once more.
And yet here she was, standing before him, alive, breathing, older but unmistakably herself. And not alone, there was Tara. His daughter. His mind reeled at the impossibility of it. Nineteen years of absence, of silence, of missing life… all condensed into the present, standing just a few steps away.
Tivor’s hand twitched slightly, almost reaching out, his chest tight as he tried to steady himself. The words he had rehearsed a thousand times over the years faltered in his mind. Nothing he could say would convey the storm of guilt, awe, and longing that surged through him.
Chapter 33: Unexpected
The wind hissed softly past Tara’s ears as Elqiana’s vast wings beat a steady rhythm through the skies, each down stroke carrying them further across the emerald sweep of the forests below. The raven, Loki, perched easily on Elqiana’s opal-scaled head, his sharp eyes darting from horizon to treetops, feathers ruffling as though catching secrets on the breeze.
They had been flying for days, stopping only when necessary, the sheer distance to Edena reminding Tara of just how far from home she had drifted. She leaned slightly against Elqiana’s warm neck, her braid whipping behind her in the wind, eyes scanning the endless green. Below, rivers coiled like silver serpents, villages dotted the land here and there, and in between lay vast, unbroken wilderness.
It was Elqiana’s mind that reached into hers first, calm and steady, Still nothing out of place. The roads are quiet, the settlements as they should be. All is unchanged so far.
Tara exhaled, though her gaze remained fixed on the horizon. After a long silence, she asked softly into their shared bond, 'How far are we from Littleton?' The name tasted strange on her tongue, familiar yet distant, as if it belonged to another life.
Elqiana’s head shifted slightly, angling her gaze to the southeast. 'A couple of hours’ flight, no more,' the dragon replied, her mental tone even though there was a weight in it Tara had learned to recognise, the dragon always measured her words when it came to Tara’s past.
Tara chewed her lip, fingers brushing the cool scales beneath her. Can we… can we fly over it? Just once?
There was a pause, not of refusal, but of consideration. Then Elqiana rumbled low in her chest, a sound Tara felt more than heard. 'If that is what you wish, little one. It will bring no harm to pass over.'
Relief mingled with nerves fluttered in Tara’s stomach. She nodded, though she knew Elqiana felt her hesitation regardless. “Thank you,” she whispered aloud, the wind carrying her voice away.
The wind rushed past Tara’s face as she leaned into Elqiana’s steady rhythm, the opal-white dragon gliding smooth and silent over the endless stretch of green below. Her heart tightened as the thought of Littleton crept in, memories unspoolling like threads she hadn’t touched in years.
She remembered the way the air always smelled faintly of baking bread when she was a child, the laughter of children darting between homes, the creak of the old hanging tree’s branches as they swayed above the settlement. She remembered the sound of the forge ringing with life, and her mother’s voice calling her home from play.
That was the Littleton she held in her heart.
'We are close,' Elqiana’s calm voice filled her mind.
Tara straightened in the saddle, anticipation blooming. But Elqiana’s tone sharpened a heartbeat later. 'Something is wrong.'
Tara blinked, confused. “Wrong?” she whispered aloud. She strained her eyes against the horizon, but Elqiana’s sight was keener.
The dragon banked lower, and Tara’s breath caught. She saw it now. The ruins.
The village had been reduced to rubble and ash. Roofs collapsed, homes gutted, beams blackened and broken. The square at the centre of town was littered with decay—bodies left unburried, bones and withered flesh scattered like discarded cloth. Carrion birds feasted openly, their harsh caws carrying up into the sky. The smell hit Tara all at once, rot and smoke mingling into a stench that made her stomach churn.
Her hand covered her mouth. “No…” she whispered. Her chest ached with the crushing weight of grief, disbelief, and anger all at once. This can’t be Littleton. Not my home…
Elqiana’s wings shifted, circling lower. Below, a small figure moved.
At first, Tara didn’t notice, too consumed by the devastation. But then Loki’s harsh voice cut through the fog of her thoughts, his wings spreading as he squawked: "Something moves!"
Her eyes snapped downward.
In the middle of the ruin, a boy no older than twelve darted across the square. His tiny hands waved frantically at the carrion birds, trying in vain to drive them away from the corpses. His hair was matted with soot, his face streaked with grime and tears. He stumbled, fell, then scrambled back to his feet, desperation etched into every movement.
But then Elqiana’s vast shadow swept over him.
He froze. His head turned upward, eyes going wide with raw terror. The birds scattered in a storm of wings. With a strangled cry, the boy bolted for the old hanging tree, pressing himself against its gnarled trunk as though it could shield him from the dragon descending from the sky.
Tara’s breath hitched. Her hands fumbled for the straps of her saddle. She knew that face, even caked in soot and fear, she knew.
“Jacob…” she whispered, her heart twisting.
Elqiana’s wings tilted, slowing her descent, and she stretched out a foreleg toward the shattered ground. Tara barely waited for the dragon to steady before unbuckling the straps. With a practised swing she slid down the dragon’s foreleg, landing hard but rolling with the impact, boots scraping against the ash-streaked soil.
The air was thick with the stench of smoke and rot, the cries of the carrion birds still circling overhead. Tara pushed herself upright, her heart pounding as her eyes locked on the boy trembling beneath the twisted branches of the hanging tree.
“Jacob…” she breathed, the name tasting strange after so many years. He had been younger when she last saw him, a bright-eyed child clinging to his mother’s skirts. Now his face was streaked with soot and terror, his frame thinner, but she knew him all the same.
He flinched at her voice, clutching the bark of the tree as if it might swallow him whole. His eyes darted from her to Elqiana’s towering form behind, wide with fear.
Tara raised her hands slowly, palms open, her voice soft but carrying across the silence.
“Jacob… it’s me. It’s Tara. Do you remember? I used to play with you, near the well. Your father taught me how to mend fishing nets.”
The boy’s chest heaved, his lips trembling, but he didn’t move.
Tara took a cautious step closer, lowering her voice to a near whisper. “You’re safe now. She won’t hurt you, Elqiana won’t hurt anyone. I promise.”
Behind her, Elqiana dipped her head, the opal scales catching the dim light like liquid pearl. She folded her wings tightly, making herself smaller, her gaze soft and unthreatening as she watched the boy. Loki flapped down from her head to the tree’s upper branches, his black feathers rustling.
Jacob’s eyes flicked between Tara and the dragon. His small hands gripped the bark until his knuckles whitened, his body trembling.
Tara’s throat tightened, but she pressed forward another step, her hand reaching out, trembling just slightly. “Come here, Jacob. Please. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”
For a long moment, he only stared, as if frozen in place. Then, with a sob that cracked from his chest, Jacob stumbled forward, his legs shaking beneath him. Tara dropped to her knees, arms open, and when he reached her, he threw himself into her embrace, clinging to her as though she were the last unbroken piece of the world he knew.
Tara closed her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his soot-streaked hair, her eyes burning with tears.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered fiercely. “I’ve got you, Jacob.”
Tara knelt in the ash as Jacob clung to her, his thin frame shaking violently in her arms. She rocked him gently, murmuring soft reassurances, but soon the boy tried to speak. His breath hitched, the words catching in his throat before spilling out in broken fragments.
“H–he… he came…” Jacob’s voice cracked, and he buried his face against Tara’s shoulder, clutching at her tunic as if afraid she’d vanish if he let go. “Rubian. I saw him. The soldiers—s-so many soldiers—they surrounded us, all around, and no one could run. No one…”
Tara’s chest tightened, her fingers pressing protectively against the back of his soot-stained hair. “It’s alright,” she whispered, though her heart knew it wasn’t. “Take your time, Jacob. I’m listening.”
Jacob pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes swollen and bloodshot, streaks of tears cutting through the grime on his cheeks. His lips trembled as he tried again, words tumbling out in a rush of panic.
“They—th-they killed them all.” His little hands gestured helplessly toward the ruins, toward the broken, lifeless forms scattered across the ground. “My mother, my father… everyone. They fell, all of them fell. I tried to—tried to wake them but…” His voice broke into a sob, and he pressed his fists against his eyes.
Tara swallowed hard, her throat tight, but she held him steady, refusing to let him drown alone in his grief.
Jacob’s voice rose, frantic, as if forcing himself to get it out before the memory consumed him. “Rubian—he was smiling. And then—then he raised his hands—grey fire, Tara, grey fire! It poured from his fingers, burning, tearing—people screamed—and then nothing, nothing left!”
His words collapsed into sobs again, his whole body trembling in her arms as if the memory itself still seared him. Loki gave a sharp, mournful croak from the branches above, and Elqiana bowed her head lower, her great eyes shimmering with sorrow.
Tara hugged Jacob tighter, her tears finally spilling freely. “You don’t have to say more,” she whispered, voice thick. “You don’t have to. I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
Jacob only wept harder, clutching her with desperate strength, as though clinging to the only person left in the world who could still anchor him.
Tara held Jacob close, his small body shaking so hard she feared he might break apart in her arms. His sobs came in ragged gasps against her shoulder, each word about Rubian echoing like a brand across her heart. Grey fire. Smiling. Death.
Her chest burned. Rage welled up inside her like molten steel, rage at Rubian, at the soldiers who had followed his command, at the merciless cruelty that had reduced her home to ash. This wasn’t just the destruction of a village, it was the shattering of lives, of her childhood, of the quiet place that had once been filled with laughter and the smell of bread from her mother’s oven. Now it was nothing but carrion and soot.
Rubian will pay. The thought came fierce, unyielding. Her hands curled into fists even as she held Jacob tighter, silently promising him he would never be left alone again.
Then, like a lantern breaking through the darkness, Neko’s face flashed in her mind. His hand in hers by the fire. His quiet sigh when their foreheads pressed together. His kiss, tender yet full of longing. The bracelet she had given him. She drew a shaky breath, clutching to the memory as though it tethered her to strength. I’ll protect him, and I’ll protect this boy. I won’t let Rubian take anything more from me.
Jacob whimpered, dragging her back to the moment. She pulled back just enough to cup his dirty cheek, forcing her voice steady. “Jacob. You’re not alone. I swear to you, I’ll keep you safe.”
In her mind, Elqiana’s voice rumbled, heavy with caution. 'Tara. We need to go. It’s not safe here. The stench of death will draw more than carrion birds… we could be ambushed.'
Tara nodded, jaw set. She turned her gaze back to Jacob, wiping some soot and tears from his cheek with her thumb. “Jacob, can fly with us. Elqiana will carry us, but we need to leave quickly. It’s the only way.”
Jacob hiccuped through his tears, his frightened eyes darting toward the opal-white dragon looming nearby. He shrank back at first, but Tara tightened her hold gently, reassuringly. “She won’t hurt you. She’s my family… she’ll protect you too.”
Elqiana lowered her head, her vast golden eyes softening, as if to offer a wordless promise. In Tara’s mind she murmured, 'I will carry him. But we must rise fast, Tara, before eyes unfriendly to us catch sight of wings in the sky.'
Tara met the dragon’s gaze and gave a single, firm nod. Then she looked back to Jacob. “Will you trust me?” she asked softly.
The boy sniffled, trembling, but slowly nodded, his tiny fists still gripping at her tunic. Tara exhaled deeply, her resolve hardening like tempered steel. They had to move.
Tara didn’t waste another second. She scooped Jacob into her arms, his small hands clutching desperately at her neck, and hurried toward Elqiana’s lowered foreleg. The dragon’s scales shimmered faintly in the grey light, her massive body taut with urgency. Loki squawked sharply from his perch atop her head, wings half-spread as though urging them to hurry.
Elqiana rumbled a deep, guttural growl, the sound rolling through the ruined settlement like thunder. The carrion birds exploded upward in a flurry of black wings and shrieks, scattering from the feast of death below. Jacob buried his face against Tara’s chest, whimpering at the sheer force of the dragon’s voice.
“Hold on to me,” Tara whispered fiercely, adjusting her grip. She scrambled up Elqiana’s leg, climbing with practised movements despite the extra weight in her arms. Her muscles screamed from the effort, but she didn’t stop until she’d swung them both into the saddle.
“Stay still, Jacob,” she instructed quickly, her fingers working fast to secure the straps across him first, then herself. The boy shook so hard the buckles rattled, but she tightened each one with steady hands, refusing to let her fear seep through. When the last strap snapped into place, she wrapped one arm protectively around him.
“Now!” she called.
Elqiana surged forward, wings unfurling like great sails, her powerful muscles coiling beneath them. With a single, shuddering leap she threw them into the air, rubble and ash scattering below as her talons left the earth. Loki launched from her head in the same instant, circling above them with a loud, triumphant caw.
The ground dropped away sharply. Jacob screamed, clinging tighter to Tara, but she held him fast, pressing her lips close to his ear. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
Elqiana beat her wings hard, the air tearing past them as they climbed higher, higher, until the wreck of Littleton shrank beneath them into nothing more than a scar on the land. Only then did Tara dare to look back, her heart thundering with fury and grief, and an iron vow that Rubian’s fire would not go unanswered.
The air roared in Jacob’s ears, tearing at his soot-matted hair as Elqiana climbed higher. His screams faltered into broken sobs, then into a stunned silence. He risked opening his eyes, slowly looking forward.
Below them the forest spread like an endless green ocean, the smoking ruin of Littleton shrinking to a blackened wound among the trees. Above, the clouds broke open into pale gold light, the horizon rolling in all directions.
Jacob’s breath hitched, caught between fear and something else entirely. “We’re… flying…” he whispered hoarsely, his voice shaking but threaded with awe. His small hands loosened just slightly from their death grip on Tara’s arm, trembling now for a different reason.
Tara felt the shift in him, the way terror gave way to wonder, however fragile. She pressed her cheek against his soot-streaked hair, her arms holding him steady as Elqiana carried them effortlessly into the sky.
Loki cawed loudly from above, wings flashing blue-ish black in the sun as if echoing the boy’s fragile amazement. Elqiana’s voice slipped gently into Tara’s mind: 'He is braver than he knows. He will endure this.'
Tara swallowed hard, her jaw tight with rage and grief, but she let Jacob’s wonder anchor her too. Even in the ashes of destruction, life still looked up.
The wind whistled past, carrying the smell of ash away as Elqiana levelled out into a steady glide. Tara held Jacob firmly, letting his trembling awe anchor against her own fury. His wide eyes drank in the endless expanse of sky, but she couldn’t tear hers from the memory of the churned earth below, scarred with the weight of marching feet.
There were too many, she told Elqiana silently, her thoughts sharp as blades. The ground was torn apart, there must have been a whole company, maybe more, to surround Littleton like that.
Elqiana’s agreement came as a low, steady hum in her mind. Yes. Too many. Not a raid, not a handful of soldiers… an order. A purge.
Before Tara could respond, another voice, clear and cold, slipped into her thoughts. Loki’s voice. Not the half-croaked mutters she was used to, but crystalline words, sharp as glass.
'Rubian would not have done this on his own,' the raven said, each word deliberate. 'He would not waste his fire, nor his time, unless Thomaz commanded it.'
Tara’s breath caught, a chill deeper than the sky’s wind shivering down her spine. Her arms tightened around Jacob, as if she could shield him from the weight of that truth.
Tara’s grip tightened on the saddle straps as Elqiana’s wings beat steady against the wind. Jacob shifted in her arms, clinging but silent, still lost in awe. She focused her thoughts toward her dragon, repeating Loki’s words.
'He said Rubian wouldn’t have done this unless Thomaz told him to.'
Elqiana’s eyes narrowed as she flew, her mind-voice low and edged with unease. 'If Thomaz gave the order… then where was Thomaz himself?'
The question lingered like a shadow, but before Tara could dwell on it, Elqiana sent her a sharp image, a vision of another village, blackened and charred, its homes reduced to skeletal husks. Smoke still bled faintly from the ruin. The ground there too was churned and scarred, gouged by boots and blades, soaked with fire.
Tara’s chest tightened. She turned her thoughts to Loki. 'She just showed me another village. Burnt to the ground as well… the ground torn up, the same as Littleton.'
Loki gave a sudden, violent squawk. It burst so loud it jolted Jacob, who gasped and clutched tighter to Tara’s arm, his eyes wide. Tara leaned her head down toward him, murmuring softly, “It’s alright, Jacob. It’s alright. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
Above them, Loki ruffled his feathers, pacing once across Elqiana’s head. Then his voice slid into Tara’s mind, clipped and grim. 'I’ll investigate. See what’s left. I’ll return shortly.'
Without waiting for a reply, the raven launched himself from Elqiana’s crown. His wings sliced the air, his dark shape dwindling against the pale clouds until he was nothing more than a flicker on the horizon.
Tara hugged Jacob closer, rocking him gently as Elqiana sliced through the clouds, the wind tugging at their cloaks and hair. The boy’s trembling eased slightly under her steadying presence, his wide eyes slowly following the sweep of the sky rather than the ruins below. Tara whispered soft reassurances, letting her calm strength flow into him, letting him feel safe despite the devastation they had witnessed.
Hours passed in quiet motion, the only sound the rush of wind past Elqiana’s wings and Jacob’s occasional soft breaths. Then, in the distance, a familiar shadow appeared, slicing through the sky with sharp precision. Tara squinted, and a relief she hadn’t realised she was holding in flooded through her. Loki was returning.
Elqiana arched her wings, slowing into a graceful glide. Tara adjusted her hold on Jacob, letting him sink against her as the raven landed lightly atop Elqiana’s head. Loki’s feathers ruffled in the wind, and his sharp eyes locked onto Tara’s.
'This was… more manic,' his voice rang in her mind, clipped and urgent. 'It was definitely Thomaz. Everything burnt to the ground. I came across a body… the head caved in, many different feet… this was an army.'
Tara stiffened, her heart hammering. An army? she thought, barely daring to breathe.
'Thomaz’s whole army,' Loki continued, 'split to attack two settlements at the same time.'
Tara tightened her hold on Jacob instinctively, his small form trembling again against her. She pressed a finger gently against his back, whispering soft comfort even as her own mind raced with the weight of Loki’s words.
Tara pressed Jacob gently against her chest, feeling the boy relax slightly under her arms. We need to get you somewhere safe, she thought, letting her gaze sweep over the horizon. Then, focusing on her companions in their shared mindspace, she spoke silently, 'Elqiana, Loki… we need to get Jacob to safety. The only place I can think of is Edena.'
Both answered immediately, their agreement clear in the rush of thought and subtle vibrations.
Jacob’s stomach rumbled loudly against her side, drawing a small smile through Tara’s worry. She reached into the saddlebag, pulling out some dry meat, and held it to him. He took it hesitantly at first, then hungrily, small crumbs falling onto his tunic as he nibbled.
Tara shifted slightly, keeping him steady against her as she asked, 'How long until we get to Edena?'
Elqiana’s voice came smoothly, calm but resolute. 'No rest. Two days and one night.'
Tara nodded, pressing her lips briefly against Jacob’s head. "We’ll make it. Just hold on." Her mind drifted momentarily to the long flight ahead, the responsibility weighing on her, but the warmth of Jacob’s small presence reminded her why she couldn’t fail.
The flight stretched endlessly, the wind cutting against their faces and whipping through Tara’s hair. Hours bled into one another as Elqiana’s powerful wings carried them tirelessly, Jacob pressed close against Tara, murmuring softly between bites of dry meat. The boy had calmed somewhat, but his wide, fearful eyes never strayed far from the landscape below.
Tara kept her mind linked with Elqiana and Loki, scanning constantly for threats. 'We can’t risk rest,' she reminded them both silently, Thomaz’s forces could be anywhere. Even the open sky seemed menacing now, shadows of clouds twisting like blades, and every distant movement below held the threat of soldiers descending upon them.
Hours blurred into exhaustion. Tara’s arms ached from holding Jacob steady, her shoulders stiff from the constant tension. Elqiana’s wings throbbed with fatigue, each beat more deliberate, each rise and fall slower than the last. Even so, the dragon kept her focus, carrying them tirelessly, her keen senses alert for the faintest sign of pursuit.
As the spires of Edena finally rose into view, relief bubbled briefly in Tara’s chest, though she didn’t dare let her guard down. She guided Jacob to sit a little straighter, brushing his hair back and murmuring reassurance.
But even in the final stretch, the journey remained tense. Elqiana stumbled slightly as she descended toward the courtyard, her tired wings lashing the air in a desperate effort to stabilise. The sudden jolt sent a small spray of dust into the air, and the civilians below gasped and scrambled away in alarm at the unexpected arrival of a massive opal-white dragon.
Jacob squeaked, clutching Tara tighter, and she murmured softly, "It’s alright, it’s alright, we’re safe."
Elqiana’s massive claws thudded into the cobblestone of the courtyard, shaking the ground slightly, but the dragon’s weight settled quickly as she lowered herself fully, wings folding with a tired rumble. Loki flapped onto her shoulder, ruffling his feathers and letting out a sharp squawk at the startled humans below.
Tara exhaled slowly, still braced over Jacob, her mind scanning the edges of the courtyard. "We’re here, she thought. We’re safe… for now."
Tara’s heart jumped as a familiar figure burst forward through the courtyard chaos, her mother, Cassandra. Her eyes locked onto Jacob instantly, recognition flashing across her face, but then they widened in confusion as she took in Tara’s soot-streaked form and the state of the boy in her arms.
Without hesitation, Tara undid the straps holding herself and Jacob in the saddle, carefully lowering them to the ground. Loki’s sharp gaze widened as he too recognised Cassandra, but the raven’s focus shifted quickly back to Tara and the boy, alert but restrained.
Cassandra’s hands moved instinctively, ushering them both inside with a mixture of urgency and relief. Tara paused for just a moment, glancing up at Elqiana, whose massive head tilted gently toward her. 'It’s okay, little redhead. I will sleep here for a little bit,' the dragon murmured in her mind.
Tara smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. 'Thank you, Elqi,' she whispered back silently.
Inside, the warm hearth and familiar surroundings offered a reprieve. A little while later, Tara and Jacob were bathed and changed. Jacob had found a quiet corner and was shovelling food into his mouth with the desperation of someone starved for days. Cassandra’s voice softened, tinged with concern. “He must have been starving.”
Tara nodded, her own throat tight. She recounted the devastation of Littleton, the soldiers, the grey fire, Rubian’s cruelty. Cassandra listened, her hand gripping Tara’s tightly as tears fell freely from both mother and daughter. They clung to one another, silent sobs shaking their bodies as they wept for the village, the lives lost, and the horrors Jacob had witnessed.
Tara froze for a heartbeat at the soft knock.. Then, a familiar presence threaded into her mind, calm but unmistakable. It’s me, Tivor.
Her chest tightened. She glanced quickly at her mother, who was still seated, eyes red-rimmed, the weight of grief still heavy on her shoulders. Tara wiped her own tears away, took a steadying breath, and walked across the room to open the door.
Tivor stepped inside, the air around him taut with quiet intensity. The left side of his face was marred by scars, his left eye pale and clouded, yet his elvish, raven-like features remained sharp, every line carved with a life of experience and hardship. He looked straight ahead, voice dry and measured. “Cassandra?”
Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, and her tone mirrored his, brittle and surprised. “Tivor?”
Tara stepped back, her brow furrowed, her voice uncertain. “You… you guys know each other?”
Before Tivor could answer, Cassandra’s hand shot out like lightning, striking him across the face. The slap was sharp and full of years of pent-up fury, splitting his lip. “For nineteen years, I hear absolutely nothing from you!” she hissed, voice trembling with rage and pain. “And you suddenly reappear!”
Tivor touched his bleeding lip, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue. His voice was low, calm, and almost resigned. “I deserve that… I definitely deserve that.”
Tara’s eyes widened, caught between shock and confusion as she tried to process the sudden eruption of emotions.
“So… Tarasque is your daughter?” Tivor asked finally, his voice quieter now, scanning between them. Then something shifted in his expression, the hard edge of memory softening. Recognition flickered in his eyes as he looked at Cassandra.
Cassandra’s gaze met his, steady but gentle now. She nodded softly.
Tara felt the weight of the moment press around her, the history between them suddenly palpable in the small, quiet room.
Tivor stumbled back a step, the room tilting slightly as his mind raced, flicking between Cassandra and Tara. Every detail, every echo of memory collided with the reality before him. Nineteen years ago, he and Cassandra had been inseparable, a bond forged in quiet moments and shared dreams. But then… the prophecy. The boy with no name. The weight of the secret had been too great.
He had to leave. Couldn’t stay. Couldn’t speak of it. Sworn to silence, he’d slipped away in the dead of night, leaving nothing but a simple letter: I’m sorry. I have to go. Never had he imagined he’d see Cassandra again, the one person who had broken him free from the solitude that had hollowed him, giving him purpose and warmth once more.
And yet here she was, standing before him, alive, breathing, older but unmistakably herself. And not alone, there was Tara. His daughter. His mind reeled at the impossibility of it. Nineteen years of absence, of silence, of missing life… all condensed into the present, standing just a few steps away.
Tivor’s hand twitched slightly, almost reaching out, his chest tight as he tried to steady himself. The words he had rehearsed a thousand times over the years faltered in his mind. Nothing he could say would convey the storm of guilt, awe, and longing that surged through him.
The Journey, Book 2; Chapter 34
Chapter 34: Nekira! Nekonata stretched, reaching from his toes to the tips of his fingers as his wolf companions, Santaya and Kristolia, lounged in the shade of an ancient tree. Nearby, Amira, his orange-and-purple-scaled dragon, arched her back like a cat. She had grown large enough to carry...
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