Onyx Storm (The Empyrean Book 3)
Onyx Storm: Chapter 58

Most cadets believe their ability to recite historical fact will usher them onto the adept path, but it is actually the ability to observe and recount it that separates the librarians from the scribes.

—Colonel Daxton’s Guide to Excelling in the Scribe Quadrant

Tairn can fly to the nearest edge of the Cliffs of Dralor in two hours, but it does us no good to leave Sgaeyl, Cuir, and Marbh behind, so by the time we reach the ten-thousand-foot drop, we’re cutting it close to Theophanie’s deadline.

Gods, if we miss it, if we’re too late and she kills Mira—

My throat threatens to close.

“We’ll make it,” Tairn promises as we descend the cliffs in a steep dive between the falls and the crowded Medaro Pass. It had been a treacherous, deadly climb in autumn, and we were cadets. I can’t begin to imagine how civilians—how children—are making the ascent.

“Do you agree that it’s a trap?” The words spill out before I can stop them.

“Of course,” he replies. “But you already know that. Otherwise, we would have discussed it over the last three and a half hours.”

Guilt wedges itself between my ribs as we plunge into a thick layer of fluffy white clouds.

“Do not dishonor me with such emotions,” he lectures.

“And how does Sgaeyl feel about me endangering Xaden?” I scan the clouds as best I can for the outline of wyvern, but the cover is thick and we’re moving too fast to be thorough.

“Had she not agreed, she would still be in Aretia, and your Dark One would be walking.”

Excellent point. “Theophanie took Mira because of me. I’m the reason she’s going through this.”

“You are our lightning wielder, and while your life may not matter more than other riders’, your signet does. You are the weapon and will have to learn to accept the sacrifice of others in your name if you want to win this war.”

Nausea churns in my stomach.

“And you think I should have accepted Mira’s death as a sacrifice?” We burst through the clouds, and the field comes into startling view.

“If I did, I would still be in Aretia and you would be walking.”

My heart sinks as I survey the landscape. The eastern fields approaching Draithus are covered in hordes of gray wyvern, setting siege against a line of dragons and gryphons perched between the guard stands along the city walls. They outnumber us in a ratio I don’t even want to calculate. For the first time, I’m relieved that Andarna chose to go. Brennan is brilliant, but this feels unwinnable. “Our estimates were off.”

“It appears so.”

But none of them launch to attack as we descend, nor do they impede the thick line of evacuees streaming from the city’s western gate.

“Molvic has been spotted along the cliffs,” Tain warns as he flares his wings, slowing our momentum.

Fucking Aaric. “If he gets himself killed—”

“He was seen flying south, away from conflict.” He spits every word in disgust.

What in Amari’s name could he be doing? “It’s not like Aaric to run away.”

“Nor Molvic.” Tairn levels out as we approach the northern field, where at last I spot a horde of a dozen wyvern waiting in a circle around Teine.

In. Out. I force myself to breathe. It’s unnatural to hold a dragon…captive.

The wyvern are perched on heavy chains that loop around Teine’s tail, bind his legs and his snout, and pin his wings to his thrashing body. Each line of metal is coated in his blood, and several of his scales litter the ground.

Theophanie stands in front of them, silver hair shining, holding one blade to Mira’s throat and another against her ribs.

My grip tightens on the pommels, and I can’t tell if it’s Tairn’s rage or my own stampeding through my veins, but it tramples every last ounce of my fear, my doubt, and my guilt until I am nothing but wrath.

How fucking dare she.

“She dies for this,” Tairn demands, his impact rustling the green meadow grass as we land twenty feet in front of Theophanie, who welcomes us with a smile.

She hasn’t drained the field…yet, but she has beaten the shit out of my sister. The right side of Mira’s face is purple and swollen, her throat carries a necklace of bruises, and blood drips from her left hand, but her leathers hide its origin. Theophanie’s scarlet long-sleeved tunic and pants aren’t helping with contrast, either.

“Agreed. Can you carry Teine if he can’t fly?” I unbuckle from my saddle as the others land on either side of Tairn.

“Not without sinking my claws into him.” He growls low in his throat. “Spend no more time on the ground than necessary.”

“I’ll stick to the plan.” Leaving my bag strapped behind Tairn, I adjust the leather-capped quiver and holstered crossbow at my back, check to make sure my conduit is tucked safely in my pocket, then dismount.

All Theophanie has to do is set her hand to the ground, and we’re all dead.

“I’m here, just like you wanted.” I hold out my arms, and power rises within me, heating my flight-chilled skin. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brennan approach from the left, while Xaden and Bodhi walk in at my right.

“So you are.” The wind whips Theophanie’s long, silver braid as her smile cracks her chapped lips, and my gaze catches on the pulsing veins at her temples and faded remnants of the tattoo on her forehead. “And yet, you seem to have lost your irid. How inconvenient.”

“No,” Mira garbles, and Theophanie tightens her gnarled grip on the blade, pressing it harder against Mira’s throat. Another ounce of pressure and her skin will split.

“Shhh. Speak again, and I’ll spill your dragon’s blood all over this field,” Theophanie says into Mira’s ear as the others reach me.

My sister stills as the men reach my sides.

“Let them go.” I will slaughter the dark wielder where she stands. Energy hums in my veins, ready for the first opportunity to strike.

“Stay calm,” Xaden says, shadows curling over the toes of his boots and drifting south as we start to walk closer. “Stay in control.” He glances toward the doomed city.

Keeping the promise I made to Brennan means not looking, so I don’t.

“That’s usually my line.” I keep my eyes off Mira, focusing solely on the dark wielder.

“Not yet. And four on one hardly seems fair.” Theophanie glances at Brennan, then Bodhi. “I didn’t ask for either of you to attend.”

“I thought you requested brothers? Next time be more specific about who’s invited,” I suggest.

“And yet you didn’t bring the brother he wanted.” Theophanie sighs. “Berwyn will be disappointed.” A thin line of blood appears along the edge of her knife.

“He’s on the way,” I say quickly.

“Berwyn.” Xaden tenses, and his focus swings south toward the city again. That’s where he needs to be—in position to save as many people as possible—but he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to leave me.

“Yes. Hence the term brother.” Theophanie glances my way. “I won’t make the mistakes with you Berwyn made with Jack. He spills his Sage’s secrets too easily.”

“I’m not turning.” My hands curl into fists.

“You are,” she states like it’s certain. “In just a few minutes, in fact. I’m intrigued to see what the actual catalyst will be.” Her eyes light up. “Saving your sister? Defending your lover? The trite-yet-always-popular revenge? I’m betting on a combination of all three.” Her head tilts, and she rests her cheek against the top of Mira’s head. “Speaking of which, time is up—”

My heart lurches, and a gust of wind blows from the north.

“He’s here!” Garrick shouts.

I glance left and find Chradh standing where there had only been empty space moments before, his foreclaw clutching a familiar runed armoire. They made it, but the knife still at Mira’s throat makes it hard to feel any sort of relief.

“Show him to me,” Theophanie orders.

Xaden rolls his neck, and the shadows around his feet drift past Bodhi’s.

Garrick dismounts, then walks to the Rybestad chest with slower steps than usual and pulls the key from his pocket. It only takes a few seconds for him to open the chest’s doors.

“There he is.” Theophanie smiles, but I don’t risk taking my eyes off her to examine how Jack is doing, especially not when Mira looks like she might pass out at any second. “Just one little matter of business to attend to, and then we’ll begin.”

“He is emaciated and wan,” Tairn tells me. “Suspended in air as the chest intends, and he appears…sedated. I can show you through my eyes if you prefer—”

“Description is perfect, thank you.” I lift my chin. “Both Jack and I are here. Our end of the deal is fulfilled, so let Mira and Teine go.”

Brennan’s hands flex at his sides.

“That wasn’t the deal.” Theophanie tsks. “I said we’d let Draithus stand, not that your sister would live.” Her mouth curves in a sadistic smile. “First thing to learn about us is that we’re careful with our words. And the second? We also lie.”

She draws the blade across Mira’s neck and slits her throat.