Page 67 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

I intercept him, seizing his neck between my jaws and shoving him backward. It’s surprisingly easy to do so, like I’ve been granted a new measure of strength. Or perhaps he is simply weak from hunger.

After pushing him out into the air, I beat my wings and hover before the cave, preventing him from re-entering it.

“She tried to kill you,” my brother snarls.

“That’s between me and her.” I can’t bring myself to tell him that I was the one who inflicted the wound. Nor do I want to confess that I’m the reason the storm is over.

Kyreagan looks as if he might try to push past me and end Jessiva’s life after all.

“We should check on the others,” I tell him.

Best to do it now, before the Mordvorren finds a way to control me or free itself.

Kyreagan growls again, but he agrees. “We’ll split up to cover ground faster. Have you eaten?”

“I have.”

“Good. We’ll survey the island and meet at the top of your mountain.”

I swivel my head to gaze up at the peak, now bathed in sunlight. At the sight, a shiver runs through me from snout to tail, but I manage to cover it with a few quick wingbeats. “Agreed.”

Much as I would like to return to Jessiva and finish our conversation, I have a responsibility to Kyreagan and to the clan. Jessiva is safe for now. She has food, water, and shelter. Once my brother and I have determined the state of the island and its inhabitants, I can go back to my cave and have a longer discussion with my mate about what I have done.

Mymate.It’s the first time I have called her that in my thoughts. I would love nothing more than to be her life-mate,and for her to be mine, but I cannot ask such a thing of her until I know more about what my future will be.

Surveying the mountains, caves, valleys, and beaches of Ouroskelle takes hours. It’s a discouraging process, as much of the island is flooded and the rest is wrecked. Vegetation has been destroyed, trees have been uprooted, and most of the prey animals are dead or hiding. I don’t spot a single fenwolf anywhere. They’re too clever to come out of their dens in the daylight.

The beaches are cluttered with debris regurgitated from the sea during the storm, including a few shipwrecks. One of the ships looks quite new, despite the gaping hole in its side. Perhaps it was on its maiden voyage when it encountered the Mordvorren. I don’t take the time to search it for corpses or treasures. That can be done later.

The longer I fly, the more unsettled I feel in body and mind. Thanks to the void, I’m never quite at peace internally, but I’ve learned to live with it. The sensations I’m experiencing now are new, alien, and uncomfortable.

My distress only worsens when I come upon a partly collapsed cave. I don’t dare use my void magic yet, but with blasts of focused lightning and my newfound strength, I dislodge the largest chunks of rock and discover the bodies of two women and the skeleton of Mylinnik, a dragon with four wings, known for his speed. It appears that the cave’s collapse caused the interior to flood, drowning both the humans and the dragon.

His body evanesced when the sun rose. Later today we will take bone-tribute from him and lay him to rest on the fields.

The women will be either buried or burned, as is the habit of humans with their dead. They perished because of the Mordvorren, but they would still be alive if we hadn’t brought them to Ouroskelle. The least we can do is treat their corpses with the honor they deserve.

When I have finished surveying my part of the island, I return to the meeting place. Kyreagan isn’t there yet, so I perch on a lower ledge, avoiding the rocky spur at the top. The memory of what I did on that peak is too recent, too raw.

Kyreagan arrives shortly after I do, settling at the mountain’s tip and stretching his wings to absorb the light. He loves sunshine—it fuels his mind and his magic.

We report to each other what we found, and Kyreagan tells me that several of the other dragons have gone in search of eels, fish, and sharks to feed everyone.

“We all need to eat and regain our strength,” he says. “Then we can fly to the Middenwold Isles and see how the animals there have fared. If they survived, we will have plenty to feed the hatchlings when the time comes.”

When I was swallowing the storm, I received a clear impression of its extent, its borders. I search my mind, creating a mental map of the area it covered. “The Mordvorren did not touch the Middenwold Isles.”

“How do you know?”

My awareness of the storm grows stronger, and a shiver runs over my scales. “I just know.”

Kyreagan extends his neck and touches my wingtip with his muzzle. “You’re not yourself. Is this about Jessiva, or the ones we lost?”

The storm churns inside me at his touch, whispering dark, jealous things. I pull away from him. “Both.”

“And something else, too. You cannot fool me, brother.”

“I can’t talk about it yet.” My words emerge as a threatening hiss, more vicious than I intend. “I don’t understand it, and I’d rather not speak of it.”

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