Page 193 of Flame and Sparrow

I spotted a wave of gold in the nearby hills—a herd of the selakir, racing together in an oddly frantic yet synchronized manner, drawn toward the flashes of distant fire only to be driven away when lightning threatened, over and over again.

Valas started in the direction of the battle several times, but doubled back every time, clearly not wanting to leave me by myself.

A particularly violent collision of static and flame lit up the sky and shook the air.

Everything went eerily still afterward, and I couldn’t help fearing the worst.

And I could no longer stand it; I wouldn’t wait here, doing nothing, while this realm and its rulers collapsed into complete chaos—all while a quieter, more sinister threat was slipping in, waiting for the opportunity to destroy them.

“I need to talk to Dravyn,” I told Valas, already turning in the direction of the circling herd of golden selakir. “Please. Just go after Halar, distract him, try to explain to him what’s really happening. I’ll get to Dravyn myself. Maybe we can draw them apart and calm them both down long enough to listen and make a better plan besides destroying one another.”

Valas looked doubtful.

“No matter what happens next, no matter the ending, I need to see him before that end,” I said, quieter, pausing long enough to look back and meet his gaze. “I need a chance to explain myself.”

Valas studied me for a few beats, then let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. Just don’t die, please. I’ve grown fond of you, and grief is not a good look on me. I’m an ugly crier.”

“I’ll do my best to survive,” I promised with a small, nervous smile. “If only for the sake of your good looks.”

Our eyes met one final time before he backed away from me, letting the icy mists of his magic overtake him and shape his form into the familiar shape of a lean, powerful panther.

He bounded off in one direction.

I ran in the opposite.

With everything left in me, I raced across the dead, drained land, pounding up dust as I went. I knew I had no hope of catching a god on my own two feet, so I instead ran toward the selakir, eyes desperately searching through the restless herd in hopes of spotting a familiar, relatively tiny beast among them.

It took an exhaustingly long time before the group finally shifted directions and galloped closer to me, and I caught sight of the one I was looking for.

I whistled, shouted, called his name until I was too hoarse to call it anymore.

The herd raced on, trails of fire whipping out behind them. But one golden beast had stayed behind, listening closer, his ears twitching—and then his whole body was trembling and bursting into motion as he caught sight of me.

Zell.

I pushed my dead legs onward, meeting him at the bottom of a nearby hill. He shoved his head under my arm so enthusiastically it lifted me off my feet. I wrapped him up in a quick hug—one that was interrupted seconds later by a wave of heat washing over us.

I caught a glimpse of red lighting up the sky far in the distance.

Zell’s head lifted toward it, and he gave a concerned snort.

Stroking the bridge of his nose, I asked, “You can feel your creator’s magic, can’t you? You could follow it?”

I didn’t know if he could understand what I was asking of him, but he seemed eager to try and please, circling around me and lowering himself to make it easier for me to climb on.

I tightened the strap of the bag I carried before pulling myself up onto his back, weaving my fingers through his mane, and speaking a command, a whispered plea—

“Take me to Dravyn.”

We shot up the hillside.

I had little experience riding bareback, and what I did have had been unpleasant. But Zell’s gait was smoother than a normal horse’s, and I was so grateful to be off my feet and moving so quickly through the bleak landscape that I didn’t care about the discomfort I felt.

I simply held on, pressing nearly flat against his powerful back, encouraging him faster and faster until finally—

There.

I saw the God of Fire in the distance, standing on a hilltop in his human form, eyes glowing with the same fire as the marks on his skin.

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