Fractured Magic: Chapter Twenty-Six

Fractured Magic is a fantasy webserial about political and personal accountability, ghosts both figurative and literal, and a pair of estranged friends who act like they’ve gone through the world’s messiest divorce.

It became quickly clear that Roman knew Unity’s courthouse even better than Gareth did. He led them in through a side door, then down narrow hallways to the atrium and on to the Magistrates’ Chambers, only slowing when a figure peeled away from the Magistrates’ doors to block their way

“Good afternoon, Bellona!” he called in a sing-song. “No, I wouldn’t recommend drawing that sword of yours. You wouldn’t want to accidentally harm the Magistrate’s brother, would you?”

Evelyne Corscia’s expression twisted with contempt, but she removed her hand from the sword strapped to her back. “Mr. Ranulf,” she said in the soothing tones of one trying not to provoke a predator, “Get away from that man. He’s very dangerous.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Ms. Corscia. We’re here to speak with my sister and the others; this will be easier if you let us pass.”

“Not a chance.”

Roman shrugged, sighed, and rocked back on his heels with all the impish mischief Gareth had come to expect from him. He wondered if any part of it was real. “Then we’ll wait until they come out. We can talk right here in the hallway, where anyone might overhear.”

“Or I could kill you where you stand,” Evelyne replied, her voice deceptively calm. Her hand inched toward her sword again.

Roman tutted. “Then you’d really be causing a scene for your employers. Besides, no matter how hard you try, you won’t succeed,” he said, showing her his palm.

An old scar ran across it, mostly-faded, and Evelyne visibly paled at the sight. In the short time Gareth had known her, she’d always seemed fearless, but faced with a simple scar, he’d never seen anyone so plainly terrified. “How?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you if you answer one of my questions,” Roman said. Evelyne waited, and when she didn’t respond either way, Roman continued, “You could have told Moira I was the one who broke into the prison. You could have told any of them.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Forget it,” Evelyne said through gritted teeth. “Wait here. I’ll let the Magistrates decide what to do with you.”

Gareth watched her go with raised eyebrows. When the doors to the Magistrates’ Chambers swung shut behind her, he turned to Roman and asked, “You know her, then?”

“I know lots of people.”

Seeing that he wasn’t about to elaborate, Gareth then asked, “Couldn’t we just follow her in?”

“She’d take any excuse to shoot me. I’ll just wait. But don’t worry; they’ll invite us in.”

He was right. Several minutes later, Evelyne returned, holding the door wordlessly open for them with a glare that said enough.

Grinning at Gareth, Roman slipped inside. All three Magistrates of Unity waited for them, arranged much as they had been the last time Gareth visited this room: Moira on one of the plush sofas, Diomis standing behind her, and Malong at her usual place by the windows, the suns on her prismatic scales casting rainbows across the room. There were no Nochdvors here now, though, and Moira and Diomis still wore their formal robes. Also unlike last time, when Gareth had escaped undetected, Moira glared directly at him.

When Roman bowed, dramatic and facetious, none of the Magistrates returned the gesture. He didn’t let that deter him and brightly said, “I’ll say it if you won’t: lovely to see you all. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Well, not for you, Magistrate Ranulf. You and I spoke just last night.”

Diomis and Malong’s heads both whipped toward Moira. “Is this true?” Diomis asked, their round eyes wide. Their hair was done up in a soft pompadour today, their usual kelp diadem resting atop it.

“Don’t look at me like that; I had no idea who he was,” Moira said, crossing her arms.

“No, but you knew I used to be an Enforcer,” Roman pointed out, smiling even brighter as he sowed chaos. He’d barely spoken twenty words. Gareth had never seen the Magistrates so quickly undone. “Remember? You asked to meet in the city specifically so the other Magistrates wouldn’t know. But you’re right, I suppose it wasn’t your fault I turned out to be Egil.”

Moira sank lower in her seat and turned her glare back to Gareth. “You know, then. I see you’ve chosen your side.”

“As if I could have chosen any other,” Gareth said. “Even if he wasn’t who he is, I heard enough from you last night to know where I stand.”

“Enough,” Malong snarled, snapping her wings on the word. Her voice was the rumble of a coming storm. “Explain yourself, Moira. Now.”

Moira drew a deep breath, clearly buying herself time to strategize. “Egil manipulated my brother into offering him McDermott’s guard position. I was only trying to get to the bottom—”

“Liar. Last night, Magistrate Ranulf told me all about your plans to frame the Alfheimr prince,” Roman interrupted before Moira could spin the story any further. “And in return, I told her that I’d tear your island apart and kill every one of you before I allowed it.”

Gareth eyed Roman. He hadn’t heard that part.

“That does explain the timing of your miraculous resurrection,” Diomis said with a sigh. “I liked you better dead.”

“I’m sure you’re not the only one,” Roman said, smiling. “But here I am, and here’s the situation we find ourselves in: the world now knows that you lied about my death. It’s not too late to call today’s headline a hoax, if you can make sure I won’t refute it. Unity can save face and Egil can return to the grave, and all you have to do is leave Leandros alone.”

“You’re mad. We will not negotiate with you,” Malong said.

“You really should. You forget, Magistrate, that I know every secret you and your predecessors ever kept. You thought Leandros’ threats were bad? Yes, I know all about those. I know what you did in Histrios, Ejera, Alfheimr, and Adondai, too. I know Leandros threatened to tell everyone about Histrios, and that that scared you. I know everything you’ve been thinking, planning, and doing, and until this morning, you didn’t even know I was alive. What do you say to that?”

For a long moment, silence hung between them. It was Malong who finally rose to the obvious bait: “I say that no matter what you try to tell anyone, the world thinks you’re dead and mad. You have no proof, so your threats mean nothing.”

Roman was no longer smiling. He bore no weapons, but when he took a step forward, all of the Magistrates unconsciously shifted back. Evelyne took a protective step in front of Magistrates Moira and Diomis as Roman said, “I don’t have to convince them alone. The new Queen of Alfheimr, the Oracle of Damael, the frìth of Lyryma, even the Magistrate’s own brother—do you really think they won’t vouch for my sanity?”

Watching Roman boldly threaten the most powerful people on the continent, his eyes bright and feverish, Gareth wasn’t sure he’d call Roman sane. Still, he nodded.

Roman continued, “Do you think they won’t speak up, if I ask? That Leandros won’t tell everyone what happened in Histrios the second I say the word?”

Based on the messy reunion they’d just had, Gareth did doubt it. The Magistrates didn’t know about that, though, and they all exchanged wary looks. “If he wants our help with his uncle, he will not,” Diomis said, staring unblinkingly at Roman. “I wonder which of you is more important to him.”

“An interesting question, but I propose an alternative,” Malong rumbled, her sharp teeth bared. “Ms. Corscia, shoot them both.”

“With pleasure,” Evelyne said, drawing her pistol.

“You will do no such thing!” Moira cried, rising quickly to her feet. She turned on Malong. “How dare you!”

“How dare I?” the dragon hissed.

Roman held up a hand, silencing them all. Even Evelyne froze at the wordless command, and Roman took the opportunity to mirror her position, stepping protectively in front of Gareth. “Enough games. As I told Bellona in the hall, she can try to shoot me, but I’ll get right back up. And you won’t like what I’ll do to you then.”

“Your folktales have gone to your head. You’re a man, not a god,” Diomis said evenly.

“Are you certain?” Roman asked, raising an eyebrow. “Certain enough to test it? Then shoot me, Bellona.”

Malong’s tail thrashed uneasily behind her. Evelyne didn’t move.

“Here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to accompany your team to Orean,” Roman said. When Moira scoffed, he repeated, more emphatically: “I am going to accompany the team to Orean. That, or I’ll go straight to the papers and tell them everything. From there, I’ll go straight to Orean and get the magic before any of you can even say the words international scandal.”

Moira exhaled through her teeth, a sharp hiss.

“Magic?” Gareth asked.

“That’s all they’re really after in Orean,” Roman explained, waving a hand. “It was never about Amos Nochdvor. A tower full of nobles blown away in an instant, no way in or out but through a guarded door. No witnesses, no survivors except for a prince and a princess who claim to have seen something impossible. Whether it was magic or science, whoever could pull off a heist like that must be powerful. Whoever controlled magic like that would be powerful. And if Unity finds it, they win in more ways than one: they seize it and finally get Orean under their heel at the same time. That’s why they need Leandros alive—he and Rheamaren are the only ones who saw the orinian woman behind it all. They might still know something useful. Am I on the right track, Magistrates?”

Unsurprisingly, the Magistrates didn’t respond, only glared.

“What are you going to do to Orean, Moira?” Gareth asked. Again unsurprisingly, Moira gave him nothing.

Roman scoffed and continued, “I won’t let you hurt Leandros, but I won’t let you hurt Orean, either.”

Watching the Magistrates’ expressions harden, Gareth understood what all of his Egil stories never said. This was Egil’s power: not swords and magic, but bold words, a bleeding heart, and firm resolve. He was worth of every bit of faith Gareth had ever placed in him.

“Let me accompany you. You can even keep your Enforcers; it’ll be four against one, a race to the magic. It’s the fairest way—let the best man win,” Egil said.

Moira broke the silence first, her voice bitter. “If you’re determined to go to Orean anyway, it seems we can’t stop you. Better to have you where we can watch you.”

Roman smiled, though his eyes stayed cold. “I feel just the same.”

Afterward, as Gareth followed Roman out of the courthouse, giddiness bubbled within him. It was the leftover adrenaline, he was sure, and he’d crash soon enough. For now, though, it was exhilarating. Egil had just walked up to the Magistrates, told them what he wanted, and then gotten it. And the Magistrates had let him go. Gareth had never seen anything like it. “I understand what you meant, now, about power,” he said.

Roman looked at him. He’d been going back and forth all day, but now he fell somewhere between the strength of Egil and the ease of Roman. Mostly, he just seemed tired. “Do you?”

“You had all of it, back there. If Unity rules by fear of punishment, they have no power if you have no fear. There’s nothing they can do to you.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Roman asked, looking up at Unity’s clock tower. They hadn’t been inside more than half an hour.

Gareth nodded eagerly. “Of course.”

“I am afraid. And as long as I care about this world and people in it, there’s always something they can do to me,” Roman said. “They just haven’t realized that yet.”

_____

When the orinians left Home, it was without any of the festivities or flair that had characterized their three-day stay in the strange city built into a canyon. They left at dawn, while Home still slept and mist hung low over the city. Only Muir and Senga rose to see them off, happily loading the group—mostly Leileas, who’d been forced to accompany them as punishment for interrupting Galam’s song—down with gifts and provisions.

While Leileas bid her parents goodbye, Maebhe stared miserably at the wall of stairs leading up, up, up and out of the city. Her body had recovered somewhat from her dive off a building, but even so, just the thought of climbing those stairs made her legs shake. She couldn’t see the top beyond the mist, it stretched so high.

“I could fly you up,” Drys whispered, their proximity startling her. She jumped and swatted at them like a pesky fly.

“Quiet, or Senga and Muir will hear you. I don’t want them to think I’m ungrateful,” Maebhe whispered, glancing back at the frìth. “Was I that obvious?”

“Not at all. I just know you well.”

She wanted to point out that they barely knew her at all, but they flared and resettled their wings, the feathers fluffing, and she was promptly distracted. Drys had been meticulous about cleaning them since their escape from Gallonten, and they were already looking much better for it: sleek and magnificent. Maebhe was often tempted to run her hands through the feathers, just to see if they were as soft as they looked, but so far, she hadn’t given in.

She wondered at their offer. Her people’s stories about the fae said they were never nice just to be nice; they always expected something in return. And Drys had already been very nice to her. She was determined to refuse them, but when she looked back up at the stairs, she answered without thinking. “All right, fly me.”

Drys grinned and scooped Maebhe into their arms without delay, Maebhe scrabbling to hold on to them and brushing her knuckles along their wings by accident. They were soft. Giving her no time to adjust, Drys took off, laughing at the string of curses she let out.

“I don’t suppose you’d carry me up?” Íde asked Kieran, watching them go.

“I love you, Íde, but I don’t think I can even carry myself up,” Kieran said. He squawked indignantly when Leileas suddenly picked him up and started toward the stairs, carrying both him and Íde in an arm like they were toddlers.

Kieran flailed. “Leileas!”

“I will not drop you,” the frìth assured them. She took the steps three at a time, and even put on a burst of speed to try to catch up with Drys. Though she gained on them quickly, her orinians clinging to her fur and armor as if their lives depended on it, the faerie landed on the dewy ground just before she reached the top step.

“Better luck next time, Leileas!” Drys called. From their arms, Maebhe watched Leileas set Kieran and Íde down with wide eyes.

Kieran took one look at her expression and warned, “Don’t.”

Maebhe threw her head back and laughed.

“Maebhe! It’s not funny!”

“It absolutely is!”

“Drys, release Maebhe,” Leileas said. “Come, little ones. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

With Leileas and Drys as their guides, the orinians journeyed into the forest. Lyryma felt different, this deep in—like a held breath, a quiet anticipation. No matter how far they walked, Maebhe felt eyes on her. She normally trusted her instincts, but she couldn’t tell if it was real or Senga’s warnings and Galam’s songs getting to her. But she watched and she listened, so she heard the river long before they came upon it.

Everything in Lyryma seemed to be strange, so Maebhe expected the river to be, as well. Instead, it looked identical to the ones near Orean, only bigger: too wide and deep to cross on foot, unless you fancied a swim. A boathouse sat on its banks, too small to hold any boats that would fit all of them.

“Are we crossing?” Maebhe asked.

“Not yet,” Leileas said. Without explanation, she disappeared inside the boathouse and returned a moment later carrying baskets and oars—no, not baskets. Boats. They were round, made of willow rods and some sort of hide Maebhe didn’t recognize, and each was only large enough to seat a single person. Maebhe had never seen anything like them. She wondered if they could truly support her weight. “We travel down the river. As long as you know how to row, it will not be dangerous. The waters are gentle, this time of year.”

Leileas slipped inside the boathouse one more time and emerged with a fifth boat, this one larger than the others but still only large enough to fit the one frìth.

“Drys, go first and show the little ones how to use the corougle,” Leileas said, propping her boat on the mud and stones and wading into the water. Wade wasn’t the right word, though—it deepened too fast. Only several feet in, the water nearly reached Leileas’s waist. If Maebhe was in her place, she’d be fully submerged. “I will help you all set off.”

One by one, Drys, Kieran, Íde, and Maebhe balanced their corougles in the shallow bank and climbed in, Leileas then helping launch them into the water. Maebhe paddled to catch up with Kieran, and as soon as she was close enough, splashed him with her oar. As soon as he finished gasping and spluttering, he splashed her back. A war began while Leileas boarded her own corougle behind them.

“Watch the wings!” Drys cried, paddling to get away.

Íde then surprised both twins, splashing them both with a swipe of her oar so powerful it set her spinning. By the time Leileas caught up with them, Maebhe’s stomach hurt from laughing.

They spent the rest of the day either paddling or drifting based on the whims of the current, and only pulled to the riverbank to eat or stretch their legs. They started a fire at night, keeping their corougles close by—in case they needed to make a hasty retreat into the water. Retreat from what, Maebhe didn’t ask, but she did watch the forest’s shifting shadows more closely. Kieran and Íde fell asleep almost as soon as they were off their feet, but Maebhe stayed awake, listening to the chirps and calls and croaks of creatures that were somehow both familiar and completely alien.

“Would you like me to tell you a story?” Drys whispered, startling her. She didn’t know how they knew she was awake, but she turned in her bedroll to look at them. Since they’d volunteered to keep the first watch, they sat cross-legged on a nearby rock, watching the forest.

“Not a scary one, right?” Maebhe whispered.

Drys laughed softly, their face lit by the fading fire, and Maebhe noticed how lovely their smile was. It softened their sharp features, made their eyes twinkle with mirth.

“Not a scary one,” they promised.

“Then yes, please.”

“Once upon a time,” Drys began, their soft voice drowning Lyryma out, “A young dryad bid his parents goodbye and set off to seek his fortune. He took the high road from Home, but he hadn’t been walking for long when he heard a voice. ‘Is someone there?’ it called. Following the voice, the dryad found a faerie caught in a forgotten frìth trap, brambles closed around it to form a cage.

’If you help free me, I will grant you a favor,’ the faerie told the dryad.

‘Any favor?’ asked the dryad.

‘Yes, anything you desire, if it’s within my power.’ Fortunately for the faerie, this dryad was skilled at singing to the trees. He whistled, and the trees released the faerie.”

Maebhe tried to keep her eyes open, to listen to the end, but Drys’ voice was mesmerizing, almost musical, and it made her mind drift and drift…

The next thing she knew, the forest was bright and Kieran was prodding at her to wake her up. As they went about their morning, Drys didn’t bring up the night before, so neither did she.

She followed the others back to the river and, throughout the course of the day, watched the forest around them grow stranger and stranger the further south they drifted. The trees took on towering, gnarled shapes Maebhe had never seen before; the grasses and foliage doubled, then tripled in size. In the afternoon, they passed rows of weeping willows, their great branches reaching over the river in an arc. Small lights like stars dotted the end of each pendulous branch, and Maebhe reached up to feel them trail over her skin. The lights felt warm, like sunslight.

By evening, they reached one of the southern Lyryma frìth villages. The frìth and fae there collected their corougles and greeted them happily, coaxing them again into telling stories and drinking wine until the early morning. With the rising suns, they packed their things half-asleep and said their goodbyes, but before they set off on foot, the residents left them with parting advice: be careful. This forest is dangerous. Darkness lurks amidst the trees.

Despite the warning, Maebhe’s fear of Lyryma slowly faded. The forest may be dangerous, but really, all forests were dangerous. You just needed to learn how to navigate them.  After five days in this one, Maebhe was learning how to navigate it. And if she’d learned anything in that time, it was that Lyryma was beautiful.

She’d never seen so much color and life in one place. Red and orange flowers grew on the trees, the occasional petals fluttering past them like leaves in autumn. Those trees—their trunks so thick that if all three orinians joined hands, they wouldn’t be able to close their arms around even one—grew as tall as Unity’s clock tower.

She’d forgotten the warnings entirely by early evening, when Leileas said, “I think…we should hide.”

Maebhe looked up from the vividly purple orchid she’d been examining. Before she could ask, Leileas was already scooping her up and carrying her over to a fern twice her height. It had been funny when they’d started their journey, but Maebhe had since grown used to being manhandled by the frìth. Pushing aside the fronds, Leileas deposited Maebhe at the plant’s center, then stepped aside to let Kieran, Íde, and Drys climb in on their own. Once they were all hidden, Leileas crouched beside the plant and whispered, “I thought I heard something. Stay there until I know what it is.”

Kieran elbowed Maebhe. “Gross! What’s that smell?”

Maebhe elbowed him back, harder. “Fuck off. It’s not me.”

“It’s the plant,” Leileas drifted in. “It will obscure you from whatever’s coming, if it has a strong nose.”

Whatever’s coming. Maebhe bit her lip, straining to hear. It wasn’t long before her sharp ears picked it up as well: it started with distant birds screeching as they left their perches, fleeing danger. What followed was a steady thump, thump, thump of heavy feet hitting the ground. Branches snapped as a large body moved through the brush.

“It walks on four legs,” Leileas murmured, crouching lower, “And has three heartbeats. That leaves two possibilities: one is harmless, the other certainly means our deaths.”

Maebhe exchanged a worried look with Kieran. All they could see was the inside of their fern. Outside, silence fell, but after what felt like minutes but could only be moments, Leileas said, “It’s all right. Come out if you want to see.”

Maebhe crept out of the fern first, Drys following behind, but she froze at the sight that greeted her. It was a great, shaggy creature nearly twice Leileas’ height. Nearly four times her own. It was shaped like a deer but with different proportions: bigger hooves, a broader breastbone, two sets of antlers. It might’ve been brown, but it was difficult to tell under the moss growing over its back and sides.

“What is that?” Íde asked, still half-hidden in the fern.

“Haven’t you seen an elk?” Leileas asked. “This one is young yet. They’re usually bigger.”

“Bigger?” Maebhe repeated, not recognizing the high pitch of her own voice.

The creature lazily swiveled its head toward the group, revealing a third eye on its forehead. It blinked lazily at them. “Is this the darkness everyone’s been warning about?” Kieran asked doubtfully.

Suddenly, the creature tensed, its ears flattening as its head swiveled back around, toward some sound.

“Get down!” Leileas yelled just seconds before the elk leaped over their heads, vanishing into the forest with long strides that made the ground shake. Behind Maebhe, Kieran lost his balance and pitched into the fern.

Maebhe whipped back around. Something new moved in the trees, something that had made the elk flee. She searched for it, but it barely made a sound; her own beating heart was louder. The elk’s sounds must have covered its presence, but with the elk gone, the soft slither through the underbrush was more pronounced.

“It has no heartbeat,” Leileas whispered.

Beneath the stink of the fern, Maebhe smelled rot and death.

There, between two branches, the tip of a wing. Then, low to the ground, a feather-tipped tail. Whatever it was seemed to be circling them. Finally, a long snout peeked out from behind a tree, baring sharp teeth blackened by decay. Next came a rectangular-pupiled pair of crimson eyes, followed by a long neck and scaled body.

It was a dragon, bigger than the ones Maebhe had seen from a distance in Gallonten, bigger than even the tallest frìth.  Its scales were the color of cinnabar and redcurrant.  

Across its breastbone stretched a wide, gaping wound. Where bone and fleshy muscle should have been visible beneath, magma instead swirled across the surface. Trying to look at it for too long gave Maebhe vertigo. She staggered back, having to rely on her tail to help her keep her balance.

“H-hello,” she stammered. “How do you do?”

The dragon opened its mouth. At first, it seemed to be smiling, but as its jaw spread wider and wider, Maebhe could see the glow of fire building at the back of its throat. She had forgotten this about the stories of red dragons: they were said to breathe fire.

“Drys!” Leileas yelled.

Before Maebhe realized what was happening, Drys had her in their arms and was taking off. Leileas scooped the others and dove out of the way seconds before a great jet of fire burst from the dragon’s maw. Maebhe felt the heat of it as Drys carried her up and away.

When she leaned down to look, a wash of fire covered the forest floor and climbed up the vines of the trees. The dragon was looking right at them; it opened its mouth again.

“Fly south! We’ll find you!” Leileas shouted from somewhere behind the flames.

“No!” Maebhe cried, but Drys didn’t listen. They changed direction midair and swept south, narrowly avoiding another jet of flame. Maebhe could only hide her face in Drys’ shoulder and hold on as the faerie wove through the trees, branches striking and scratching her skin. It seemed like ages before Drys finally slowed, dipped lower and lower, then came to a stumbling stop. Neither fire nor dragon were anywhere to be seen, and they were alone in this dangerous forest.

The second Drys set her down, Maebhe rounded on them. “How could you leave them?!” she demanded. She couldn’t breathe; her stomach had tied itself into tighter and tighter and tighter knots during the flight, and now her legs could barely support her. She sank to the ground, frustrated tears springing to her eyes.

She’d only just gotten her family back. Why did this keep happening to them? Why was everything happening to them?

Drys blinked, visibly bemused. “Leileas told me to.”

“What if they didn’t make it out? What if they needed our help?!”

“I needed my help, too. You can’t fault me for having a sense of self-preservation.” They said it like it was the most logical thing in the world.

“Yes, I can! And if they don’t make it out because of your cowardice, I’ll kill you!”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. With its size and damaged wings, that thing won’t be able to travel quickly in such a dense forest. Leileas can outrun it.”

Maebhe covered her face with her hands. “What about the fire?” Her voice came out muffled.

“It’s been a damp summer. The fire won’t spread far, if at all,” Drys assured her. “You have nothing to fear—not for now, at least.”

Maebhe breathed. “Okay.”

“Better?” Drys asked.

“Better.”

“You know, if I was a different faerie, I might be offended. I just saved your life; you should be thanking me, my Mae-vuh.”

“You—ugh!” Maebhe said. She scooted so her back was to them and took the chance to scrub at her eyes.

“Are you ignoring me?” Drys asked.

Maebhe ignored them. That was how the others found them, emerging from the woods just twenty minutes later looking tired and beaten down. Leileas walked with a limp, and the smell of singed fur followed her.

Maebhe jumped up the moment she saw them, throwing her arms around both Kieran and Íde at once. “I’m so glad you’re safe. Are you hurt?” she asked.

“Yeah, thanks for just leaving us,” Kieran said. Noticing Maebhe’s tear-streaked face, though, he frowned and shot Drys a suspicious glare. “Are you hurt?”

“No, thanks to Drys. What was that thing? Leileas, Drys, why didn’t you tell us there were red dragons in Lyryma? They’re supposed to be extinct!”

Leileas shook her head. “I didn’t know. I wonder if that’s what’s been scaring animals to the edges of the forest.”

The group shared a dark look. Darkness lurks amidst the trees, indeed. When none of them had an answer, Leileas shook her head and said, “Let us continue. I want to get as far from that creature as possible.”

After this chapter, there are only FOUR chapters left until the end of volume I! Keep an eye out for an incoming newsletter post: without spoilers, it'll have some BIG updates. Thank you for reading this far!

If you’d like to support the story, the best thing you can do is share it with others. You can also support the author with a one-time tip, or get perks in one of two membership tiers:

$2/month - Receive a behind-the-scenes newsletter that includes character art, exclusive content and updates, writing advice, and more.
$5/month - In addition to the above newsletter, receive chapters one week early.