Page 58 of Dragons Of Shadow and Sea

And she managed to get the both of them killed.

I swab furiously at my eyes, but it doesn't help. I knew they were dead, but a part of me had dared to hope that they weren't. I know it's better to know for certain, but somehow, it's almost worse. Not only did they die, but they died like this. They were murdered by Shadow Dragons. And then their souls were imprisoned. For years, they've been trapped here.

Quietly, breaking through my haze of fury and grief, Lord Rook says, "They drew you here. Didn't they."

I don't answer. He doesn't get to know my pain. But my silence feels like confirmation in and of itself.

Lord Rook shifts to the side, giving me a clearer line of sight to the Soul Spheres that contain what's left of my parents' spirits.

"Are all the stories about them true?" I ask. My mouth is dry, my lungs tight.

"I don't pretend to know what versions of the Shadow Dragon monster stories you've heard," he says, a mild rebuke, but not an insulting one. "Soul Stones trap the souls of our victims. No one knows exactly what they experience, but our legends liken it to a deep sleep."

He makes it sound so pleasant.

"A deep sleep where they're trapped against their will and harnessed for their magic."

"It could be worse." There's a dark glint to his smile. Which is good. I needed the reminder that he's a Shadow Dragon. I can't trust him.

I snort. "I'm sure."

I scrub at my eyes again before dropping my hand and squaring my shoulders. I can't leave my parents here, imprisoned like this. Even if they're only sleeping, it's too terrible a fate.

"How do you get them out?" I ask.

"You don't."

I shake my head. "There has to be a way."

"Not unless you want to blow up the citadel."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," I mutter. That's tempting as hell, but the magic contained within these orbs is overwhelming in its power.

"We hoard them for a reason," he insists. "They're a weapon."

That gets my attention. I snap my gaze to his.

"A weapon of last resort," he clarifies. "Smashing them is like releasing a bomb."

Somehow, that makes it all even worse.

I manage to look beyond my parents in their magical soul-prisons to take in the larger room. It's huge, with dozens if not hundreds of shelves, each containing dozens of orbs.

Thousands of souls, trapped in glass by shadow magic. All waiting in the dark for the day they'll blow some poor, innocent dragon to smithereens.

"There has to be a way," I repeat, taking a step toward the spheres I'm sure contain what's left of my parents.

I raise my hands, and Lord Rook takes a big step back.

"You don't know what you're doing."

"Like that's ever stopped me."

The energy coming off of the two orbs is different from the painful, sharp magic that radiated from the other ones I first approached. Again, there's that whiff of my mother's perfume. Vanilla, rose and jasmine. I can hear the soft alto of her voice; I can almost see the pages of a book flipping past. All those bedtime stories she read me. The gentle press of her lips to my temple, and the melody of her laugh.

And deeper. Hidden farther away in my memory. My father's strong arms lifting me into the air. His magic crackling. The sky going dark, and brilliant light pouring in.

I don't even realize it, but tears are pouring down my cheeks once more, only I don't care. I lift my hand higher, crossing the space as if I'm floating.

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