Rafe sat on the bed, his mind reeling. The shadow creature was half-dragon. The shadow creature was what he would have become if his soul hadn’t won dominance in the joining. The shadow creature was communicating with him through his dreams.
That day on the ship…
When Rafe had faced that dragon and screamed at it to stop, the beast had actually heard him. It wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t an accident or a fluke. He’d sent a command, and the dragon had listened.
I can speak to them…with my mind.
He inhaled sharply and ran his fingers through his hair, jolting to his feet, the information too much to process. With a soft thud, the mesh blanket fell from his shoulders and the room around him glowed orange, illuminated by the fire in his wings. Rafe shoved on his boots, then paced, the steady drum of his steps calming his racing heart.
What does this mean?
What does this mean?
There was only one way to find out. After turning on his heels, Rafe stomped to the door and jerked it open. One look at his face and Jolt sidled up to the wall as he stormed past. Within moments, he emerged on deck.
“Rafe!” Brighty immediately called, as though she’d been waiting all morning for him to walk through that door. “Just the man I— Hey!”
He nudged her aside, ignoring the affronted expression on her face, and took to the sky, soaring up to the crow’s nest on the main deck, surrounded by nothing but fog.
“Good morning to you too!” she shouted.
I’ll deal with that later. He sighed as he perched on the small wooden platform and closed his eyes. How exactly did one go about mental communication with a dragon? Did he just send the thought out into the world and hope it stuck? Could he sense them? Would they answer him?
Hello? he silently shouted.
Are you there?
Can anyone hear me?
A frown curved his lips. He felt utterly ridiculous.
Breathing deeply, Rafe tried to clear his mind. Letting the sway of the ship pull him into a meditative state, he reached out with his newfound senses. Immediately, the crew’s magic stimulated a hunger deep in his stomach, their power an alluring scent on the breeze. Rafe pushed past it, extending himself farther, imagining he was soaring on the winds, not crouched atop a ship, his spirit one with the air.
Heat tickled at the edge of awareness.
Rafe dove into that sensation, the subtle burn grazing his thoughts almost like a touch, stirring up images of smoke and fire. He reached out, moving on instinct, not really sure what he was doing. A force reached back.
Where?
He sent the word through the connection.
There was no response—of course not. They didn’t know his language. The creature hadn’t spoken to him in words, but in images and thoughts, in memories. Switching tactics, Rafe imagined himself lost and wandering, no sense of place. He pushed that unsettled, aimless sensation down the bond, along with thoughts of fog too thick for his sight to penetrate.
Then he waited.
And waited.
Hunger flashed across his mind, acute and yearning, making his stomach ache with a hollowness he knew couldn’t be his own. The sweet tang of magic made his mouth water. A sense of intention, of direction, pulsed from the dragon’s mind, almost as if it were inviting him to follow. There were mages close by, and the beast intended on paying them a visit.
Rafe severed the connection and leapt from the crow’s nest, his wings catching him before he crashed into the deck. Two quick beats and he landed beside the captain. His sudden appearance did little to rattle her. She kept her hands on the wheel and her feet braced, not bothering to turn her head.
“Is there a city close by?” he demanded, an urgency to his voice. “Any place with concentrated magic?”
Captain Rokaro offered a sidelong glance. “Why?”
“Please, I can’t explain now. I just need to know.”
She shrugged and returned her gaze to the sea. “Depends on which direction you mean.”
“West,” he said, closing his eyes and trying to remember where the pull of the dragon’s mind had led him. “Southwest, maybe, but mostly west.”
“Then there’s no city.”
Dejection coursed through him. He’d been so sure.
“But,” the captain continued, “there’s a trading outpost, maybe a day’s sail away by natural means, a few hours if we really pushed with our magic.”
Rafe cursed under his breath.
The dragon was already on its way. They’d be too late to stop it, too late to help. Unless…
“Why, Rafe?” Captain asked again.
There was no time.
“I’ll be back,” he muttered as he turned on his heels.
“Rafe.”
His wings were already pumping as he ran to the side of the ship and jumped, pushing off the banister as he launched into the sky.
“Rafe!”
The wind quickly swallowed the sound of Captain Rokaro’s voice. Yellow currents cut through the fog, her magic chasing where her body couldn’t. The snapping of sails and groaning of wood carried across the sea. He didn’t turn to watch the ship careen in his direction. He disappeared into the mist.
In the bright silver nothingness, Rafe had to rely on his inhuman senses. The bird still deep inside his soul navigated not visually but instinctually, aware of north and south and east and west despite the opaque haze. And the dragon followed still another intuition, one new to him, but just as innate.
Connecting with the other beast came easier the second time, as if, once established, the mental bond could never quite be severed. Its spirit still smelled of hunger and fire, determination shooting down the current as it chased the scent of magic. Deep in their shared thoughts, Rafe lost all awareness of time. Hours might have passed, perhaps minutes. As he closed the distance, the images came sharper and the feelings stronger. He knew the moment the dragon arrived at the outpost. Satisfaction hurtled like a spear into his mind, making the beast in him hungry and the human in him pained.
How many were dying?
How many were wounded?
Was he too late?
Magic saturated the sky, close enough that he could pick up the sweetness with his own nose, the rumble in his gut not from his mind but from his own need. The oppressive stench of smoke hit next, stirring a cough as the air grew thin.
He was close.
So close.
Just as the shapes of ships broke through the mist, topped by plumes of black and bursting with orange flares, a wail pierced his ears. Pain infiltrated his thoughts, so immense he nearly dropped from the sky. Fire hurled across the sea, the heat simmering with anger. Desperation clawed at him as the distressed dragon pleaded for his aid.
As Rafe darted around sails, the outpost came into view—a small collection of buildings surrounded by a handful of ships. The spot was meant as a temporary meeting place, no grand castles or sprawling homes, just a few ramshackle gambling halls and warehouses for trade. But the sailors parked there were made of magic, and their power lit the skies. Through the bubbling flame, glittering sparks of every color dove for the same target—bright shoots of light and dark swirls of shadow, crashing waves and tempered fire, blustering winds and, most of all, sharp metals glowing green. Through a break in the flames, he saw the dragon release another stream of fire as a screeching cry bellowed from its throat. Rafe’s attention went not to its snout, but to the arrow protruding from its chest and the chain secured by steady ferro’kine power, ensuring the beast didn’t fly away.
There’d be no escaping now.
The dragon was as good as dead, and though the idea might have once filled him with pleasure, the circumstances were no longer black and white. The human in him cheered. The dragon in him mourned. Agony seared his thoughts, but underneath the hurt, there was a drive and a desire to live he couldn’t deny.
Give up, he wanted to say. It’s over.
But it couldn’t. It would fight to the bitter end, not knowing any better, flames flying and wings beating, struggling to change the inevitable.
So close to the battle, yet outside of it, Rafe saw the dragon for exactly what it was—an animal, like any other, running on drives it didn’t fully understand. It didn’t have ill intent. It didn’t mean any harm. It wasn’t plotting to destroy the world. It was hungry and hurt, chasing food and resources, fighting to survive in the hostile world it had found itself in—which raised the question, why? Why was it here in the first place? From everything he’d learned, the beasts came here chasing magic, and maybe that was true, but it wasn’t the complete story.
The dragon collapsed, setting flame to a sail and crushing the roof of a warehouse as it slammed against the outpost. Another arrow punctured its chest, but this time it didn’t wail. Steam slipped through its nostrils as its body shuddered. Those blood-red eyes found his through the smoke.
Peace, Rafe thought, sending not the word but his memories of it down their mental connection. Warmth stirred in his chest as he imagined his mother’s laughter while they twirled around her rooms, and the soothing quality of her voice as she sang him to sleep. He thought of Lyana, her hands upon his chest and her magic diving into his skin as they lay surrounded by rubble. They’d been on the brink of death, yet he’d been calm and unafraid as her breath washed over his cheeks. The dragon wouldn’t understand the scenes, but it might still understand the message. Be at peace.
Its eyes slipped closed.
Its body fell still.
Their connection vanished.
Before he was seen, Rafe turned to leave. A tickle at the back of his mind stopped him still. He frowned, hovering in midair. Murmurs rose from the ship deck beneath him, spreading as arms pointed toward him. But it wasn’t the people who concerned him. Heat seeped into his thoughts, an invisible scorching that drew his eyes back to the sky.
Another dragon was there.
“The battle isn’t done,” he cried and sped over the outpost. Skidding to a stop on the moist planks, he landed before the lifeless beast. Mages eyed him warily, not sure what he meant. “There’s another—”
A piercing roar cut him off.
Where? Where?
Rafe opened himself up to the dragon, letting the mental bond steal his thoughts.
There.
He looked up just in time to see an avalanche of fire descend from the sky. The inferno crashed upon him, drenching him in waves of flame. His clothes burned. Ash filled his nose. But there was no pain. The heat sank harmlessly into his skin, the blaze not burning him but igniting something within.
The mages around him weren’t so lucky. Another blast of fire stole his sight, the flaming tempest as thick as the fog and impossible to see through. But above the sizzle, cries punctuated the attack, some in fear and pain, others in gritty determination.
Stop!
He wasn’t sure if the message was for the dragon or the mages. He wanted both to stop. No more destruction. No more killing. But there was only one creature he might force to listen.
Stop, he thought again, this time gripping the mental bond as though with talons. Go, he ordered, flooding the connection with thoughts of open skies and freedom and places far, far from here. Leave. Go. Save yourself.
Hesitation raced down the line.
Rafe beat his wings, flying up and up and up, until razor-sharp teeth and smoldering scales broke through the raging flames. No longer afraid, he pressed his palms to the dragon’s immense chest, its heartbeat thundering against his skin.
Magic prickled the air.
They were running out of time.
Go, he roared, now filling the bond with the awareness of everything the dead beast below had suffered so as to frighten this one into submission. Go!
The air stirred as the dragon pumped its wings, once, twice, retreating into the fog. With it gone, the fire drained away, snuffed out by glittering red sparks of pyro’kine magic. The smoke cleared, leaving Rafe acutely aware of his position as the only creature left suspended in the sky. Not a sound stirred as he descended, the crunch of his boots on burnt debris loud above the soft sizzle of the water spilling across the outpost to douse the few remaining flames. His clothes still burned, cloth melting away to reveal untainted flesh. Countless eyes watched on as he drew that singing heat beneath his skin. The last thing he needed to be in this crowd was buck naked, though he supposed they might find that sight less shocking than the one currently before them.
Despite the tension, the corners of his lips quirked into a smile.
Let them make of it what they will.
Before the mages could react, in happiness or horror, Rafe fled from the outpost, completely oblivious to the rumors that would soon be churning in his wake.