Page 114 of Shade of Ruin

At the same time, Iknowthat I’m in the right place. More than ever before, Iknowthat this is where Calyr the Gold rests. I take a step inside the room, and it’s like the world shifts just the slightest. Suddenly, I hear a roaring sound that hadn’t beenthere before. The air rushes around like a massive gust of wind, yet nothing moves other than my hair and clothing.

It fades almost as quickly as it started. “What in Lysara’s name was that?” I take another step into the room, and the roar begins again, growing in intensity while the gust of wind begins anew. I look up into the darkness and realize that the sound and wind are coming from above me. The torchlight doesn’t quite reach it.

I stand still, assessing the sound and wind and room. I know Calyr is in this room, but there’s so much that’s covered in darkness. Cole was wrong about the labyrinth. What else could he be wrong about? Are there more dangers hidden in this room?

Several minutes pass, and I realize that the sound and the wind happen regularly. Consistent. Almost like a heartbeat… Or abreath. Could that truly be Calyr’s breathing? I’d seen a drakeling. I’d seen a gryphon. I’d touched them both. I’d expected to understand the size of a dragon. But if that’s Calyr’s breath…

He would have to be bigger than a house. So big that he couldn’t get out of this cave through the labyrinth. But where is he? Another gust of wind rushes around the room, and I try to follow where it came from. I pinpoint it. High above me in the center of the room. I walk toward it, not sure if I’ll stumble upon a dragon’s tail or a ladder to climb up to him.

The wind and roaring sounds continue to come in perfect time, and I’m slowly becoming convinced that it is, in fact, Calyr’s breath. I try to walk as quietly as possible, watching in the looming darkness as best as I can for anything I might step on and reveal myself.

Which is why it’s so surprising that I step on a gold coin.

I don’t kick it or trip over it. It makes so little noise that I barely notice it other than that the floor isn’t exactly where I’dexpected it to be. The torches flare, and the entire room is filled with light. That’s when I see Calyr for the first time.

Fifty feet in the air on a mountain of gold coins and gems and treasure. The light hits the golden mountain and reflects everywhere, shining and sparkling. I’ve never seen anything as magnificent as this mountain of treasure.

The mountain doesn’t compare to the dragon that is sleeping on top of it. Or rather,wassleeping. Calyr matches the gold he lies on in color, yet he makes the coins look dull in comparison. The scales along his body make the diamonds and rubies’ sparkles seem lackluster.

He’s longer than most of the trees around Blackgrove are tall, a hundred feet long, at least. Membranous wings are folded along his back, completely covered in the same glittering scales as the rest of his body, and his four legs are thick enough that a wagon could be hidden behind one. Massive talons on each of his feet dig into the mountain of gold.

He’s enormous with long horns rising from his head that are thicker around than I am. Even lying down, he’s terrifying. When I look into his eye—that’s as large as Cole is tall—I feel just how tiny I really am. Every color of the rainbow swirls in that eye and makes me wonder how it’s real.

Calyr is not a very large drakeling. Calyr is something otherworldly. Terrifying and beautiful.

And then he moves, and I’m shocked even more. Like a cat waking up after a long nap in the afternoon, he stretches out, his scales rippling in the torchlight as he sends thousands of pounds of gold and gemstones sliding down the side of his treasure horde. Then, in a single leap, he bounds onto the cave floor so catlike that it’s unmistakable. Nimble like nothing his size should be, he lands with an explosion of crushed stone and dust, and then he looks down at me.

“Maeve Arden, daughter of Brenna of the Darkness and Sandor of the Stone, why have you come to my cave?” His voice booms through the air, and I don’t know how the entire mountain isn’t shaking. The gold and gemstones certainly are. I certainly am.

It only makes sense that my voice does, too. “I come here to ask you to heal my cousin, Hazel Arden.” I say the phrase that I’ve repeated so many times in my head over the weeks. I knew I would get here, and I knew it would be terrifying. I just didn’t know quite how terrifying it would be.

Calyr looks down at me, and those eyes that sparkle with every color stare at me in a way that no human or Immortal ever could. It’s not peering through me. It’s seeing everything about me. Calyr is the only dragon in Nyth. He stayed behind to watch over this world that the dragons left behind.

“What treasure do you bring to barter your cousin’s life?” he says as he stalks around me. When he speaks, I see the hundreds of gleaming white teeth that are taller than I am. His eyes never leave me as he walks around me in a circle. His long tail whips behind him, often landing against the ground or the gold and sending dust and stone and treasure flying.

I reach into my pocket, initially terrified that the ring isn’t there, but I find it immediately. When I pull it out, I hold it up for Calyr to see. “I offer you the Forgotten Ring. The only one like it. It was my mother’s, and she gave it to me as a child. Now I offer this as payment for you to save my cousin’s life from the magic I worked against her.”

Calyr cranes his head down to me, and when that enormous eye is only a few feet away from me, he blinks. His blink is enough to stir up the dust on the floor at my feet.

“That is the Forgotten Ring,” he says as he moves away from me. “But it is not yours to give, Maeve Arden, daughter of Brenna of the Darkness. It was made by Vyran the Black, thesame dragon who created the Throne of Darkness. The one that is now ruled by the House of Shadows. When he became the throne and gave life to the High Fae of that House, he gave them the treasures he had created. They cannot be owned by anyone outside of that House, merely loaned or carried. Thus, Maeve Arden, you cannot offer this to me, as it is not yours to give.”

I stare at Calyr. I made it to Draenyth. I survived the city. I snuck past the guards and traps and labyrinth, and I am standing in front of Calyr the Gold. Now I can’t pay him? That’s what’s going to stop me?

“My mother gave it to me. I can use the power of the House of Shadows. How can you say that it’s not mine to give?”

His movement is slow and reptilian. He does not dismiss me, does not ignore me. He listens to every word, hears every singlethought. It’s almost like speaking to him makes me reconsider every one of those words, like he’s searching and tasting them and deciding if he believes them to be true or not.

And I know that the words I’m saying are wrong. A hundred conversations flash through my mind between me and Cole, between me and the Shade.

“…I can use my House of Flames power naturally…”

“…shadows don’t leave wounds…”

“…what House poisons…”

Then I hear his words repeat themselves in my mind.

“..Brenna of the House of Darkness and Sandor of the House of Stone…”

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