Page 2 of Forged in Fire
“Absolutely not,” Caleb says, his voice carrying the authority of someone used to making life-and-death decisions for an entire clan. “You want to rush off to an unknown location based on a psychic connection and a piece of surveillance footage that could easily be bait?”
The rational part of my brain knows he’s right. The part that’s been keeping me alive knows he’s right. But the sister part, the twin part that’s been hollow and aching since that night the Syndicate took him—that part doesn’t give a damn about rational.
“You didn’t hesitate when Elena was in danger,” I snap at Caleb. “You went charging off to save her without waiting for backup or strategy sessions.”
Caleb’s expression tightens, jaw muscle jumping. “That was different.”
“How?”
“Because Elena was in immediate danger. Your brother’s situation appears to be…” He pauses, choosing his words with the care of someone walking through a minefield. “Stable.”
“Stable?” The laugh that escapes me has sharp edges. “He’s been missing for three years. Three years of whatever they’ve done to him, and you think his situation is stable?”
“He’s walking around under his own power,” Elena says gently, ever the investigator trying to piece together facts from fragments. “No visible restraints, no signs of immediate distress. That suggests he’s not in immediate danger.”
“That’s easy for you to say.” I snort, not caring how bitter I sound. “I think we should go.”
Vanya leans forward, her maternal instincts clearly extending beyond just Ember. “It wouldn’t be safe for you, Iris. Weneed more information before anyone goes anywhere,” she says. “Like, where do we even start looking?”
“Most likely Eastern Europe, if history is accurate,” says Luke.
“Then that’s where I’m going,” I say firmly.
“Right. Just hop on a plane, land in a foreign country, and ask if anyone knows where the secret dragon organization is holding your brother.” Dorian’s tone is dry.
“It’s better than nothing!” I resist the urge to throw my hands in the air in frustration.
Nadia, who’s been standing at the outskirts of the group observing us, finally speaks up. “This chamber, this Sleeping King—if someone’s disturbing that kind of power, we’re talking about consequences none of us can predict. It’s not just about a rescue mission.”
“That’s true. The Sleeping King isn’t just a historical figure. According to the old stories, anyway. Kael Craven was the most powerful dragon of his generation,” Hargen adds, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s studied the histories. “If someone’s trying to wake him…”
“They’d need a damn good reason,” Caleb finishes grimly.
Mara’s head pops up from her laptop screen. “Wait, what do you mean, wake him? The guy’s been dead for centuries, right?”
“Yes.” Viktor waves a dismissive hand. “We mean metaphorically, of course.”
But I catch the look that passes between Caleb and Dorian, quick and loaded with meaning. They know something the rest of us don’t.
“But the dragon sleep—” Ember starts.
“Is a myth, my dear,” Viktor interrupts her smoothly. “Just like vampires having no reflections and being allergic to garlic.”
“Wait!” Mara’s eyes go wide with interest. “Vampires? Where are the vampires? Could I interview one?”
Luke looks like he’s developing a migraine. “We’re discussing dragon lore, Mara.”
Viktor continues as if the interruption never happened. “Legend has it that the last king’s legacy would live on beyond him, not just through his bloodline, but something darker. If someone has access to whatever has been locked in that chamber, it’s likely they could tap into it.”
“Like some sort of power?” Ember asks, leaning forward.
“The worst kind of power,” Caleb mutters. “The kind that ends dynasties.”
I stare at the phone screen, at that shadowy figure who I’m certain is my brother. Kieran, who pushed me toward the escape route when the Syndicate had us cornered. Who told me to run and not look back. Who I failed to save because I was too scared, too weak to stand and fight beside him.
The guilt sits in my chest like a rock I’ve been carrying for so long, it feels like it’s part of me.
“I’m going,” I say quietly. “If there’s even a chance he’s alive, I’m going to find him.”
