That might've been too low.
Rafe cursed and angled his body higher into the skies. But how else was he supposed to see through this blasted fog if he didn’t dive beneath it? Yes, he'd promised the captain he wouldn't leave the ship. And yes, he'd promised to stay out of sight. But no, he hadn't listened. And now…he was pretty sure he'd been spotted.
Great. Just great.
When they arrived at port, he'd agreed to remain on the ship while the rest of the crew slipped into the dark streets to gather supplies. But that had been before he peeked through the porthole to find a familiar skyline staring back. He'd been to Karthe before, not in body, but in a dream the night before. The docks had been just as full, bustling with magic and mage light despite the late hour, the sort of place where it was easy to go unseen—at least for anyone without flaming wings. In the memory, he'd stuck to the shadows, moving through liquid pools of inky black and staying out of sight. Then he'd caught a scent in the air, too intoxicating to ignore. He'd followed it until he'd found the source—a young girl with silver magic glittering along her fingers. She oozed spirit and life. He’d wrapped a scaled claw around her throat and drained the power from her skin until he was dizzy with it. Someone had come. It didn't matter. All he remembered from then on were flashes of blood and gore and death.
Rafe shook his head to clear the nightmare.
Gods alive.
It had been so real. Too real. When he'd glanced through the window to find the same city staring back, one he was certain he'd never stepped foot in before, he'd taken to the skies without a second thought. If the dreams were real, he needed proof. Was he doing these things? Had the dragon inside of him found a way to gain control? The possibilities were too terrifying to consider, but imagining the worst was making him crazy.
Oh, screw it.
He couldn't see anything through the fog. He needed to be closer. And if the people saw him, so what? His magic made him unbreakable, and now he was half-dragon too. If anyone in the streets of Karthe wanted a fight, they could have one. It might be just the outlet his restless energy needed.
Rafe dove.
The fog dissipated as he neared the tops of the buildings, scattering just enough for him to see. Magic glittered along the busy streets, but the farther from the docks he flew, the quieter the city became. The scene from his dream had been a dead-end street, circled by buildings and edged by a deep canal, stuffed full of empty crates and boxes. When he reached the richly ornate buildings near the center of town, he knew he'd gone too far and circled back, scanning the passing sectors for any hint of familiarity.
There.
A façade painted in fading teals and yellows caught his eye. Rafe plummeted from the sky and landed easily on his feet to press his fingers against the chipped wood. He'd been in this spot before. He'd touched this siding. Just around the corner, a dark alley waited. He ran down it, the shadows just as thick as he remembered. Left, then right, then left again, he moved on instinct, until finally he stopped in the center of a small clearing at the edge of a canal.
It was real.
His chest tightened as he turned slowly, taking in the broken crates and the scattered glass, evidence of a fight. The girl had been playing just over there, beside that door. He kicked debris to the side with his foot—and froze. Dark stains marred the wood.
No. No. No.
Rafe knelt and pressed his fingers to the spot. The firelight from his wings caught the edge of the sticky liquid. It flashed with a crimson sheen.
Blood.
The alley was real. The girl had been real. The nightmare was real.
He'd lived it.
No!
He stumbled back. Behind him, a tile crashed to the wood. Rafe gripped his swords and pulled them from their sheaths as he spun.
"Whoa!" Brighty jumped out of reach. "Put those things away before you hurt yourself."
The tips of his blades dropped with two thunks to the wood as all the breath left his lungs. "It's you."
"Who'd you expect?"
"I really don't know." He stared into the shadows, unable to fight the feeling of being watched. “How’d you find me?”
"How do you think?" she growled, then punched him in the arm. "I followed you across the rooftops, and I’m not the only one. What part of stay on the ship don’t you understand? I mean, magic alive, Rafe! Half the city is out looking for you right now, and no offense, you aren't exactly incognito with those things."
She pointedly eyed his fiery wings.
Rafe tucked them casually behind his back. "I'm sorry. I know. It's just, something's been going on, something's happened, and—"
"Tell me later," she cut him off and glanced over her shoulder. "We've got to go."
"Why?"
Before she could answer, a wave of pine-green sparks spilled through the alley and surrounded them in a neon glow.
Brighty sighed and shook her head. "Too late."
His swords chose that moment to jerk free of his hands. One swung for his neck. The other sliced toward Brighty's gut. She rolled to the side while he ducked, and their foreheads banged together.
"Ow."
"Watch out!"
He shoved her aside and caught the blade in his hand before it struck. Blood spilled down his forearm. Rafe gritted his teeth and strengthened his grip as the sword lashed from side to side. Silver magic pooled beneath his skin. Beside him, Brighty brandished a broken slab of wood and whacked the other sword away.
"I told you these things were a bloody hazard!"
"Don’t give me a lecture."
"I should've given you a leash!"
The sword attacking Brighty lodged in the wood. For a moment, she grinned triumphantly. Then the blade started spinning, whipping the shard of wood around like a floating wheel of death. She bared her teeth as Rafe leapt in front of her, using his body as a shield. Reaching back, he tried to get a grip around her waist.
"Let me carry you."
"No."
"We'll be safe—"
"No."
"Would you just—"
"Look out!"
A metal grate lifted from the scattered shards and flew toward them. Rafe took it in the chest, grunting as he felt a rib crack. Brighty steadied him from behind. Three mages walked into the alley, their leader clearly the ferro'kine wreaking havoc on Rafe's pride. The other two weren't using their magic, but he could smell it on their skin.
"What do you want?"
"The king sent us to retrieve you," the metal mage warned.
I bet he did. The mere mention of the king made Rafe’s blood burn. Heat filled the air as the flames along his wings blazed, turning the mage's pupils orange with the reflection.
"Come with us, and we won't hurt your friend."
"Touch her, and I'll kill you."
"No one's going to die tonight," Brighty drawled as she stepped out from behind him with a swagger to her hips. "Least of all me. I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."
She darted her milky eyes toward him, and Rafe slammed his shut just as magic exploded from her palms. The light was so piercing even he felt the sting as the darkness fled. He expected screams, or at least some heavy groaning. Instead, a moment later, it dimmed.
"Oh, for magic's sake," Brighty grumbled under her breath.
Rafe peeked to the side. A wave of shadow rolled from another mage's hands, meeting her power head-on, so the two clashed in a battle of penetrating white and fathomless black, neither gaining the upper hand.
Well, damn.
It had been worth a shot.
His swords sprang from the floor again, both aimed toward Brighty's heart, and Rafe lunged to intervene. Yellow streaks of aero'kine magic flooded his sight as a windstorm swept through the alley, knocking him aside. He dug his heels into the wooden planks, his feet slipping with the moisture.
"Brighty!"
Locked in battle with the shadow mage, she didn't hear his cry. The sharp points flew closer to her chest as gusts whipped at him from all sides. Rafe tried to barrel his way through.
"Brighty!"
She glanced toward him, her eyes widening upon seeing the blades, and stumbled back. But it was too late. The metal was a foot away, then inches, then—
The swords clanged to the ground at her feet as the ferro'kine gasped in pain. Rafe jerked his head toward the sound. The man clutched his shoulder, a wince digging into his brow as he hissed. Blood spilled over his fingers, pouring down his arm and soaking his clothes. The mage found Rafe's gaze, a mixture of fear and renewed determination shining in his eyes.
It wasn't me, he wanted to say. I didn't do it.
But what did?
A brilliant wave of green flooded the alley before Rafe had time to guess. Dozens of shards of metal rose into the air, light enough to be swept into the tunneling winds. A maelstrom of sharp edges and dust spun toward them. Rafe glanced at Brighty, then at the sky, then back at Brighty. She bit her lip, all her concentration on the shadow mage. Rafe would survive the onslaught, he was sure. It'd be painful, but not fatal. His friend, however, would be butchered alive.
As if hearing his thoughts, the aero'kine sent another gust into his chest, and he stumbled back. Surrounded by green glitter, two metal bars rose before him like a moving cage, preventing him from crossing the distance. The spinning vortex of doom glided closer.
"Surrender and we'll spare her," the metal mage ordered.
Like hell.
The fire in his chest stirred, but Rafe clamped down on that instinct. It would burn Brighty just as easily as it burned the rest of them. There had to be something else, something—
His raven cry.
Was he still…? Could he still…?
He had to try.
As wind and metal barreled down on him, Rafe thought of Brighty and of the raven he prayed still lived somewhere inside his battered soul, and he screamed.
The piercing screech echoed down the alley, reverberating off the wooden walls like the sweetest music. Everyone stopped. Wind died and metal dropped to the ground like soft rain. Both light and shadow winked out. Brighty stood slack-jawed, prompting the corner of his lip to quirk as he raced toward her, ready to flee to the sky.
A tickle at the back of his neck stopped him.
Dread slipped down his spine.
Drawn by something out of his control, Rafe slowly turned. The air was still. The metal mage and the wind mage both stood frozen, their eyes blank and unseeing. Behind them, though, the darkness rippled. A creature emerged from the ebony folds, its skin covered in scales. Shadows wafted off its onyx wings. The only bright spots on it were the pointed teeth visible between slightly parted lips.
"You…" Rafe's whisper fell away to nothing.
The demon cocked its head to the side as though curious. Then it reached a hand around the metal mage's throat, the pointed claws of its fingers creating indents in his tan skin. The mage blinked. His gaze sharpened as the power of the raven cry fled. For a moment, his eyes widened. With a sudden jerk, he dropped dead.
"No!" Rafe shouted.
The creature was already gone, disappearing into the shadows as though it had never existed in the first place. But it had. He'd seen it. And not just moments ago—he’d seen it in his dreams. Impossible, yet true.
The aero'kine screamed and dropped to the ground beside her dead companion. Before Brighty had a moment to complain, Rafe grabbed her by the waist and launched into the sky, every fiber of his being alight with the desire to flee.
"Put me down!"
Rafe ignored her and carved a path deeper into the fog, rising high above the city.
"Rafe, put me down now!"
He loosened his grip, and she screamed loudly enough to wake the gods. "You said—"
"Not right now, you bloody idiot!"
He grinned as she wrapped her arms around his throat, nearly choking the life out of him in her desperation to hold on.
"I thought you weren't afraid of heights."
She grumbled unintelligibly and buried her head in his chest. He shook his and reached out with his senses, using the subtle pull of magic to guide him closer to the docks. Only, it wasn't subtle. The port was ablaze with power, and as they neared, rainbow explosions broke through the mist. He dove beneath the fog bank, not surprised in the least to find the crew of The Wanderer at the center of the fray. A group of mages on the dock were attempting to come aboard. The crew held them off. Magic crashed and collided, nearby ships and buildings getting pulled into the destruction. A furious storm brewed across the sky, spun by the captain's hands as Pyro burned the sails of a nearby ship and Jolt rained lightning on the empty deck. His friends were clearly stronger, holding the other mages off and careful not to inflict any permanent damage—on the people, anyway.
"Go!" Rafe tried to shout. They'd been waiting for them. It was obvious. Rather than flee, they'd stood their ground, but he'd never forgive himself if anyone got hurt. "Go!"
Above the blistering winds, he knew he had no chance of being heard. But against the charcoal skies, his wings were hard to miss. Patch grabbed Captain by the arm and pointed. Immediately, the air shifted and the sails of the ship puffed. Rafe cut back into the fog before the mages on the ground spotted him. He'd meet the ship out at sea.
"Did you see their faces?" Brighty groaned against his chest. "I'll never hear the end of this, being carted around like some damsel in distress…blech."
The shadow creature's sharp onyx claws flashed through Rafe's mind and a shiver pulsed down his spine. He tightened the grip on his friend. "At least you'll be alive."