Page 35 of The Shattered Rite
And then, dismissively, she turned her back to him.
Vaeronth’s voice curled into her mind, satisfied.You speak like a Queen.
“I speak like I’m hoping no one notices I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Convincing, nonetheless.
She drifted toward one of the stone benches, letting herself move like she belonged here, like nothing could touch her—not the blood drying on her skin, not the molten script crawling along her arms. She settled down carefully, ignoring the way her ribs still ached.
Then… she noticed the others.
Slumped figures scattered across the hall. Not warriors anymore. Survivors. One clutched at a ragged stump of a leg, makeshift tourniquet soaked through. Another’s face was pale as snow, blood seeping from between cracked fingers pressed to his ribs. A girl in the corner whimpered softly as she tried to bind a wound on her arm without help.
Her gut clenched.
She should move. Help. Do something. Her healer’s instincts screamed for it.
Her fingers twitched against her knees.
Vaeronth’s voice cut through, low and firm:No.
She stiffened. “They’re dying.”
You are not a healer anymore, Eliryn.
“Yes, I am.”
No. You are not.
She swallowed hard. “But I could—”
You are a dragonrider.
She closed her eyes, her throat tight. The words felt like a stone laid on her chest.
His voice was an ember that refused to go out.You walk among them, and they see what you are becoming. They see the bond.
She hesitated. Then, quietly, in her mind:My mother would have given anything to see this.
Heck,Eliryn thought,she might have even seen it in one of her visions.
There was a pause. Then:Tell me of her.
Eliryn blinked. The burn in her throat had nothing to do with fire. She nearly said no. But then the words clawed up anyway.She was…
She swallowed.
She was small, but unshakable. Not a soldier, but not ungifted—she had visions that always came true. She told me all the old stories, everything she’d learned: dragons, bonds, the First Flame. Everyone laughed. She didn’t care. She used to say…Eliryn’s eyes watered.
“The world might forget, but the gods never do.”
Wise words,Vaeronth said gently.
She died before I could prove her right.
The words fractured in her chest.I carry her blood,she thought.And now her ghost.
No,he replied, voice curling warmly through her thoughts.She knew. In her bones, she knew. The fire in you was never hidden from her.
