Page 26 of Phixmery

A coy grin stretches across her sharp but feminine features. She is considered the standard of fae beauty, but her personality leaves much to be desired. “I was wondering if you’d like me to stop by your chamber before you head off—that way I can make up for myinsubordination.”

My gaze darts to the small female with the raven familiar before focusing back on Evera. “No, thank you. It’s not ever going to be happening. Do I need to add another week of dish duty to your squad’s punishment?,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest.

Her blood-red eyes widen in shock before narrowing, noticing where my attention momentarily went to. “It will happen sooner than later, Talyn. Our fathers made an agreement, an oath in front of the priestesses. You will be mine. Better get used to the idea. You need a strong female in your corner.” She crosses her arms with a small, victorious grin.

I lean down, getting in her face, my blood boiling with rage. “You think because our fathers made an oath, that I’m tied to you? I’m tied to no one. And fates be damned I ever will be. Get out of my face, and just for that you and your squad can help out in the fucking gryphon stalls in the morning before combat,” I seethe, baring my teeth at her.

The victorious grin that donned her face drops into a sneer. “I’m sure our fathers would love to hear how you’re treating your betrothed.”

She turns and marches over to Amos and Spade, who both send me nervous but angry glances on their friend’s behalf.

“Thanks to your fellow squad mate, every morning for the next week you will be in the gryphon stalls before breakfast. And don’t forget dinner dish duty. You have no one to thank but Cadet Gannon for your added chores. Get it fucking together. This isn’t a fates-damn tea party! Do I make myself clear?” I bellow, my voice carrying across the yard, gaining other squads’ attention, but I couldn’t care less. When I’m content with their response, I dismiss the lesson.

Jesper takes that moment to slide up to me with a knowing grin on his face. “Trouble in paradise, mini Lord?” he jests, nudging my shoulder.

I scowl at him, ignoring the rage-bait of that moniker. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea that you keep training Cadet Solace. You’re becoming obsessed, and you promised that you wouldn’t.” I stride away from the training yard into the castle, Jesper and Killian falling in on either side of me.

He grabs my arms, stopping both of us in our tracks. “I’m not obsessed,” he starts before he leans in and whispers just loud enough for me to hear. “I just can’t get into her mind, no matter how hard I push. There’s something about her, and I need to figure it out. She’s a nobody, the small outlier village where she grew up thinking she was a null, and she has mental blocks that strong? It doesn’t make any sense, Talyn.”

I shake my head. He has a point, but when he gets obsessive, the poor thing his attention lands on usually ends up dead. “Fine, if that’s the case I will take over her lessons and keep you updated on what I can find out. Will that sate your curiosity?”

Jesper’s eyes narrow before returning back to normal. He shrugs. “Fine with me.”

Killian pipes up, his eyebrow twitching with frustration. “That doesn’t give you free rein to follow her around the castle,” he growls, the low timbre of his raspy voice filled with unbridled rage that’s ready to be used on his next victim.

“Why does it matter?” Jesp snaps.

Between dealing with Evera and trying to control Jesper’s more unhinged side of his jovial personality, I lash out. “Because I don’t need to clean up your messes when we have bigger things going on. Just please listen to me for once on this.”

“Fine,” he says easily.

I flex my fingers by my side and they crack. “Thank you. Now we need to go pack. Be ready by noon at the Keep.”

With that hopefully sorted, I hurry down the grand halls, towards the chambers I share with my brothers. Usually Wings share a room, just like any other squad, but since we are the Lords’ eldest sons, we get the privilege of having our own space. I need to put together a plan, including contingencies, especially if Jesper decides to go off the deep end. Which is more than likely, the more time he spends around that cursed female.

ZADDRO AND I glide through the evening sky, the sun finally lowering, leaving the land in a dusky hue. Tisur and Jesper are slightly behind on my left, Killian and Voissor on the opposite with Hemming and Featherington following up in the rear with their dragons, the standard positioning most wings take up when flying together. We’ve already passed through Spirrix’s Capitol of Evendë and are about to come across Mizhold, the small town that has been used for the last twenty years as the first checkpoint for our soldiers before they head into battle, and where they fall back to.

I glance down over Zaddro’s side and it devastates me to see the ravaged land from years of war, a war started because of greed that continues to steal from Damorleia. But so far, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary.

“Notice anything different?” I ask my bonded dragon.

He swings his large onyx head. His green eye rolls before looking forward again. “If I had, I would have said something. You know my sight is far superior to yours.”

A grin threatens to break free, but I know he’s already felt my amusement. “So you keep reminding me.”

We go back to flying in silence, and as we approach the war-zone near Mizhold, that’s when our dragons roar in rage, and that’s when I see it. The original battlefield on the edge of Wraithwater Channel has been pushed back to the edge of the town—a town that’s currently ash, burnt to the ground in recent warfare. Countless bodies lay strewn in mud, including dragons and gryphons. Our beasts let out a mourning roar before Voissor swoops low and blasts their kin’s remains with flames so hot that beads of sweat roll down my face and neck from forty feet away.

It seems like the reports are true, but what in all the realms would cause this type of damage? It looks like even the Vathian forces have fallen back as well, which is good. But if this new weapon gets deployed again, it won’t be long before Mizhold will be taken.

I signal to the others to fall back.

Zaddro lets out an earth-shaking snarl. “This needs to be stopped. I smell foul magick in the air. They’ve taken it too far, and I fear the balance has been altered.”

“Foul magick?” I ask, his dread becoming my own.

He speeds forward, taking us to greater heights, as if he wishes to be one with the stars, to get away from the sight that lays beneath us. “Magick that has been long forgotten since ancient times. Memories that have been passed hatchling to hatchling as a warning, imprinted on us so we will never forget the horrors that came before. A new age is coming and we need to prepare… for better or worse. I must inform my kin…”

My mind whirls with the foreboding that lingers in the bond, but any other questions go unanswered. One thing is clear: the enemy has done something heinous, and if we don’t figure out what it is and stop it then Damorleia as we know it may be doomed.

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