A SENSE OF FINALITY FOLLOWED ELARA THROUGH THE MORNING OF the battle. The empires may have dragged their feet leading up to the treaty and declaration of war, but they had wasted no time in moving on Hearthstone. Elara put on her riding leathers with a smile on her face, ready to fight in a way she never had been before. She had no love for war, but she didn’t think of this as a war.
It was an ending.
Now, she was sandwiched between Torrey and Signey, strapped into the saddle as Azeal flew them down the coast toward their first stop, the Emerald Highlands. The Crown Sea was a silver-and-cerulean line against the gold and jade of the continent. It writhed like a snake, consuming the shore before spitting it back out. The glimpses she caught of the sea between the clouds took her breath away, but her anxiety was like a living thing in her chest, straining to get out.
They could get Jesper and Faron back today.
They could stop Iya today.
Everything could end today.
Unless she failed again, of course. But even if she did, they were not the only ones headed to the Highlands right now. The Étolian, Joyan, and Langlish armies were marching on the occupied cities, and their navies were making their way to the Hestan Archipelago. She, Torrey, and Signey were just the first wave, meant to distract as many dragons as possible while rescuing the prisoners if they could. Elara just hoped she could turn that if into a when.
She tightened her arms around Torrey’s waist and sent up a prayer to the gods, even while knowing she would be channeling them soon. Please let us weaken Iya’s forces. Please let us find my sister. Please let us win.
As if he could hear her, Azeal spread his wings wider and glided below the clouds, where the Highlands unspooled before them like a green blanket interrupted by blue-silver mountain peaks. And already waiting for them, like shadows beneath the setting sun, were four dragons.
Alzina and Zephyra hovered at the flank of the V formation, snarling at the prospect of hunting a new meal. Blaze, ridden by Tonya Mantle and Grady Rivas, was in the left center, his golden wings pumping in excitement. Beside him was a second medallion, one Elara recognized as Cruz, who was bonded to Headmaster Oscar Luxton and his daughter, Margot. She had often seen him poking around the beaches in search of something shiny to play with during her time at Hearthstone.
Azeal drew up short, hesitating in a way Elara had never known the dragon to do. “He doesn’t want to hurt Zephyra,” Torrey called back to them. “Or make Signey watch as he hurts Zephyra.”
“Can you land us? Elara and I can handle the B mission,” Signey said.
There was something off about her voice, but Elara had no time to sort through it. The dragons were approaching, and Azeal was already soaring out of their reach. He’d crested the clouds again, and his massive wingspan ate up several yards before he dived. Elara’s stomach dropped as they did, but she forced her eyes to stay open behind her goggles so she could keep track of the dragons. She didn’t want to call on the gods until they were closer to Hearthstone. She didn’t want to risk being exhausted by the time she faced Iya.
Fire followed them down, raining from the mouths of the medallion dragons. Zephyra zipped after them, quick as lightning, until she came up alongside Azeal. Her teeth were bared, her eyes cold. She twisted toward them, slamming into Azeal’s side and knocking the carmine off course. Alzina waited for them, loosing flames that scorched Azeal’s hind legs. He roared and dropped again, leaving Zephyra to collide with Alzina on the next strike.
“Come on, come on,” Torrey whispered under her breath. Her hands tightened on the reins, but she and Azeal were clearly communicating across the bond. He banked abruptly, making Elara and Signey bounce in the saddle as Zephyra appeared in front of them again.
Once, Zephyra’s speed had been an asset. Now it was their greatest threat. They would never make it to the ground with a sage in their way.
“Go,” she heard Signey shout, seconds before the wind gushed up Elara’s back.
Elara twisted in the saddle to see Signey jumping off Azeal’s side, her arms out wide. Elara screamed, but Signey had given herself an extra kick on the launch. She landed on Zephyra’s side, skidding down a few inches before her fireproof gloves found purchase in Zephyra’s scales. The sage roared indignantly, twisting to shake loose the new weight, but Signey was climbing with the kind of stubborn determination that said she would die before she let go.
“What are you doing?” Elara shouted. “This isn’t the plan!”
“I’m not leaving her!” Signey shouted back. “And you can’t leave while she’s here! Just go!”
“Signey!”
“GO!”
Torrey went, urging Azeal into another dive against Elara’s protests. Zephyra had no saddle, and Signey did not have the magic of the bond to give her perfect balance on dragonback. They were so high up that if Zephyra dropped her, Signey would die. She would die, and Elara suddenly regretted the way they had left things, regretted that Signey could die here without knowing that Elara… that Elara—
“She’ll be okay,” Torrey said as the ground rushed up to meet them. “She’s the best soldier we have, remember?”
“Did you know about this?”
Instead of answering, Torrey brought them down hard. Azeal landed at a run, coming to a halt inches away from the ocean. Elara unstrapped herself as quickly as she could, her eyes on the sky. Cruz and Blaze were only yards away, and she could see their mouths were open, revealing their razor-sharp teeth, their darkened maws. As soon as she jerkily slid to the sand, Azeal took off again, leading the other dragons deeper into the Highlands.
Elara couldn’t see Zephyra. She and Signey were too high up. Anxiety crawled over her skin, but she had to trust Signey to take care of herself. She had to stick to the dregs of the plan.
She dragged her eyes back to the ground and broke out in a smile. The plains weren’t empty. Soldiers in the colors of their respective countries had joined the fight. Joyan soldiers lifted whole chunks of the ground into the air and sent them hurtling toward the dragons. Alzina, who had been felled by one such attack, was surrounded by twenty Étolian soldiers who swung at her with swords. Langlish soldiers with fireproof shields covered their heads as Cruz rained down blasts upon them, and every break in his attack gave them the opportunity to return fire of their own. Their relics were like a thousand little suns.
Elara, Torrey, and Signey had been successful. The dragons had been so focused on Azeal, they hadn’t noticed the soldiers crossing into the Highlands until it was too late. And now Torrey and Signey didn’t have to fight alone.
Elara had to do her part before the tides began to turn.
Across Serpentia Bay, she could just see two dragons, the size of birds at this distance, as they soared across the sky, likely patrolling for threats like her. She didn’t see Lightbringer, whose body would be at least twice as large, so she had to hope that he and Iya were there. That Faron was there. And, if not, that she could find Jesper and free him before they returned.
Elara took a deep breath and called on the gods. Irie appeared to her in an instant, nodding once before settling beneath Elara’s skin. Her raw power obliterated Elara’s anxiety, leaving her nothing but fierce determination. Her ears were full of roars and growls. Her body still felt the heat of the dodged fireballs. And her heart was racing from adrenaline and fear. But with Irie’s magic at her fingertips, she could do anything. She would do everything she could to bring her sister home.
Fishing boats were tied to a dock. Elara loosed one and climbed in. The oars were tossed to the bottom as she leaned over to place her hands in the rippling water. Irie’s magic flowed through her—down her arms, and out of her fingertips. The force of Irie’s light sent the boat jetting across the bay, much faster than if she’d rowed it herself.
A shadow passed over her head. Alzina had enough time to tip back her head before Azeal slammed into her side, stopping her from setting Elara and her fishing boat aflame. Elara poured more magic into the water, her eyes on the shore of Caledon, the first island in the archipelago.
Her mind worked quickly. She was an easy target for any dragon that Torrey couldn’t catch in time, and Alzina was already recovering and chasing after her. She could stop and fight back, but that might draw the attention of the two dragons at Hearthstone. If they destroyed her boat, she would have to swim, and even with Irie’s power that would exhaust her. The element of surprise was still on her side, for now, and she needed to keep it if she wanted any chance of getting to Jesper.
The dragons collided again. One of them yelped in pain.
Elara’s boat scraped across the sand before coming to a rattling stop near the landing field. She jumped out, checking the sky again.
Irontooth and Ignatz—a carmine and an ultramarine—were already flying toward her. She saw no sign of Goldeye or Lightbringer, but Hearthstone was a massive fortress. They could easily be hiding within the courtyard or somewhere on the other side of the building. They could even have been on one of the other islands, rallying those who had joined their forces for the ground offensive that would soon follow.
It was just like the San Irie Revolution, except that she was more powerful this time. She was older, better at analyzing her enemies. Every fight had felt like her last back then, and she’d been shaking as she summoned, waiting for the blow that would take her down. She had been a child in oversize armor, sick with fear and trying to ignore it because if her sister could do this, then she would do this. At eighteen, Elara was still that scared little girl, but she was also a determined young woman. She was the Maiden Empyrean. She had seen that dragons could be defeated and that she could survive even the most impossible odds.
That kind of knowledge was powerful. It made her powerful.
She would not let an enemy take anything else from her.
She would fight for her country, her sister, her best friend. She would fight for herself.
Elara surrounded her hands with discs of conjured light, each as sharp as blades, and threw them back-to-back in the direction of those dragons. If they thought her easy prey because she was alone, they would quickly learn just what a nuisance she could be. She was already running for Hearthstone by the time they dodged, and their world-shaking roars chased her before she heard the flap of their wings on her trail.
I’m coming, Faron, she thought as she darted across the grass, her heart in her throat and anger in her blood. I’m coming.