Page 12 of Wynter and the Stone Dragon

“You really need to brush your teeth. Your breath smells like brimstone.”

“Later. I want to have fun.”

“Well, we have all the places we’ve been before….” she said with a cheeky expression.

Pow-pow groaned and sat down with a huff. “Or…?”

She pulled the ring out of her pocket and wiggled it between her fingers. “I found a new one. I have no idea where it goes or if we can even go there. It fell out of one of dad’s tomes. How do you feel about an adventure?”

Pow-pow pranced around in a circle. Wynter would have gone flying if she hadn’t leaped over his tail as it swept by her. Luckily, she was used to her friend’s exuberant behavior. She laughed loudly, practically dancing herself, and then she made herself take a breath and be responsible for a second.

“Remember, no going through until we know it is safe. The last thing we want to do is walk onto a gas planet or into a star.”

This time it was Pow-pow who rolled his eyes. “I know, I know.”

Wynter tossed the power ring into the air and opened it with a wave of her hand. She no longer had to whisper a spell to open them. Over the years, as she became more powerful, she learned that she didn’t need to say a spell out loud to make many things work. As long as she clearly imagined what she wanted, she could control the flow of power to make it happen.

The ring expanded and their reflection shimmered before the world on the other side became clear. Slowly, the excitement drained from her, leaving her feeling hollow. Pow-pow stopped bouncing and stepped closer to her.

“Wynter, I don’t like this place.” His voice had dropped to a deeper tone, almost a growl.

On the other side of the ring was a dark and desolate world. The open balcony doors showed ash as far as she could see. Scorched protective walls were manned by blackened bodies frozen on their feet. The walls of the room the portal had opened into were also marred by scorch marks. The furniture was broken and the room was covered in cobwebs.

A woman lay on the bed. Her features were sculpted from a fine powder. Her right arm lay out to the side as if she were reaching out to someone. She had the same long platinum blonde hair that Wynter did. It lay spread out across the dusty pillows. Her purple robe was adorned with colorful flower embroidery. Beneath the robe was a silver nightgown. While the room looked as if it had been ransacked, the woman’s body remained intact.

Wynter took a step forward, and threads of white and blue energy spiked outward from the portal and wrapped around her. She screamed as the powerful bands dragged her through the magical doorway. Ancient memories shattered her mind.

“Wynter!” Pow-pow hurled himself after her a second before the portal closed.

* * *

Earth: Palace of Aethon

Khalid silently moved along the outer wall of the palace with his group of men. At twenty-eight years of age, he was the leader his father had trained him to be, and tonight, justice would finally prevail.

Life had been difficult since his mother’s poisoning. His parents had become suspicious of everyone except the person they should have suspected. The truth came to light during the parade celebrating Aethon’s National Day of Freedom when he was eighteen. Khalid’s parents had died in a car bomb.

His uncle’s plan to rule Aethon would have succeeded if his father hadn’t insisted at the last minute that Khalid ride in a separate vehicle. The small force loyal to his uncle Inarus had opened fire on the procession, but Khalid’s guards had whisked him away to safety.

The assassination of the beloved King and Queen had left the country in shock. Inarus had used that to take over the country—declaring himself King within hours of the murders. By law, Khalid could not assume the throne until his twenty-eighth birthday, which had passed two weeks ago.

The plan was for Khalid’s largest force to enter through the main gates while he and his team entered through the rear gardens. Tonight, he and those still loyal to his parents would regain control of the country. It had been almost a decade since his parents died. The years had been long and bitter.

Khalid followed the wall to the recessed iron gate, and one of his people quietly cut the thick lock with a pair of bolt cutters. The gate creaked from disuse as he pulled it open. He winced at the sound. Stepping through the arched doorway, he scanned the overgrown foliage, angrily pushing down memories of his mother walking in the garden. She would have been singing sweetly as she trimmed her beloved roses.

He motioned for the team to move forward and sent a quick gesture to General Adham Husam to take the right fork with his team while Khalid led the other team to the left. He held his rifle firmly against his shoulder and searched the area in front of him for resistance.

They reached the steps leading up into the palace. Adham’s team arrived too, and Khalid nodded to him. It was fitting that they led this charge together. Adham had been his private guard since he was a boy, and he became a close friend after Khalid’s parents died.

Moving forward, Khalid stepped on something and lifted his foot, noticing the crumpled dried remains of a rose. It pulled up a memory from fourteen years ago—one he would never forget but sometimes wondered if he had imagined. The little girl with white hair who had performed a miracle. A child whose touch could heal and create a magical doorway.

His mother had never mentioned her again. If not for Faiza’s miraculous recovery, Khalid would never have believed the girl truly existed.

He looked over his shoulder to see the garden, searching as he always did when he came here. After that fateful night, he could have sworn he had felt her presence here for years.

“Your Highness, is everything alright?” Adham murmured.

Khalid gave a sharp nod. Now was not the time for memories.

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