Chapter 15

Nova Pointe was a barren, godsforsaken spit of land jutting out over the unforgiving Marianus Sea, but this was the closest jumping off point to our destination.

Even my Fae eyes weren't good enough to span the distance across the choppy waters to Darkhold, but I knew the island was there. A place of looming darkness hidden by shadows, little more than a blur on the horizon.

"One more jump," I muttered when Simon landed beside us, feathers ruffling in the salty wind. He had to be exhausted flying fast enough to keep up with us, but the shifter hadn't complained, driven by the same relentless compulsion as Torin.

I had to respect their devotion to their friend.

Had to respect the patience—the utter dedication—to hold onto hope for three hundred years.

"There is a landing point on the southern tip of the island. We'll land there and wait for Simon to catch up." Torin stepped closer and wound her hands tightly into my coat as I prepared to ghost us across the water, her eyes fixed on that blurred darkness as if her entire future lay within those shadows. "Chances are there's nothing there left alive, but I suggest we all keep our wits about us."

The trip only took a handful of minutes, filled with the heavy scent of salt and fish and rolling waves. Then, as if we'd crossed some invisible barrier, reeking foulness hit me full in the face.

The second my feet touched down on the parapet, little more than a dangerous sliver of stone jutting out above a gaping darkness, my feet slid on the rain-slicked rock, my weight pitched awkwardly enough I tipped backward over the edge.

One desperate glance showed a fall that would surely kill me before Torin's hands darted out and snagged my collar, heaving me upright. "Thanks." My fucking heart beat out of my chest as I got my feet under me. "Still don't trust you…but thanks."

"Anytime, Commander," Torin said smoothly. The back of my neck prickled as I slowly unspooled my magic, dark tendrils as thin as fingers testing the reeking air.

The brimstone-drenched air was choking, the mist-covered island surrounded by some unnatural, impenetrable darkness. Not magic, exactly, but some primitive, arcane power cloaking this place in eternal night, turning the sun into a pale globe that cast no light.

"Gods, it stinks," Raz murmured, face twisted against the assault.

"This smells different than before." Torin tipped her head back and took a deep breath. "The brimstone is the same, but there's something fouler beneath. Something ancient. Like this entire island has been corrupted at its very heart."

The inner island was a round sunken crater surrounded by a ring of jagged toothlike mountains, higher than anything I'd ever seen in my life, the peaks swallowed up by the cloak of shadow so completely I couldn't see the tops.

Perfect if you were a dragon and had wings to span the unfathomable distance—an impossible maze of sheer, insurmountable cliffs and plummeting drops if you had to travel on two legs.

Every stone was pitch-black; even the sand lining the shores was as dark as the glittering midnight granite beneath my feet. There wasn't a tendril of green, not so much as a sprout pushing up from the cracks.

I pulled my knives. Raz did the same.

A polished, round wall circled that central crater, perfectly crafted, every stone set so neatly the rampart appeared to be carved from one continuous piece of rock. From that circle, a shimmering ward projected upward, all the way into the clouds.

The circle encompassed a city hewn from the rock, jutting needlelike peaks separated by deep valleys. Not a city like Tempeste or even Blackcastle, built of wood and stone, but something ancient and indestructible.

It was hard to believe every jagged peak used to house a dragon. A family of dragons.

"Each mountain contains a den, a landing pad, and a warren of passages. The biggest one in the center was Zyghon's, the king's." Torin pointed just to the right of that. "There's where Zephryn is."

From this height those mountains looked diminutive, little more than anthills, but once we were down there, they'd rise above us, taller than Mount Sylvan, minus the snowcap.

"Once Simon arrives, we have to penetrate that shield." Raziel studied the ward carefully, the magic still undimmed even after all this time. "Their protections are strong, and I have no doubt we'll be shredded apart if we try to step through."

I squinted, seeing everything I'd missed before.

The bottom of the crater and the sides of every mountain were littered with bleached white bones, the curved ribcages of once-powerful dragons, skulls with empty eye sockets glaring angrily in death, as if they were still hanging onto the last shreds of their vicious hate.

"This place is a graveyard," I muttered softly.

The back of my neck never stopped prickling, the weight of watching eyes crawling up and down my spine as I wondered what evil things hid behind these rocks.

"I didn't expect the ward to still be working. The last time we were here…" Torin's eyes took on a far-off gleam, as if replaying an old memory. "The dragons were tearing each other apart. I wasn't sure there'd be anything left. But Simon and I can get through the magic."

"I don't see activity," I offered lamely, adding, "but we're being watched."

"I feel them, too. Many of them, whatever they are, but I haven't seen anything yet," Raziel said carefully.

The air glittered with raw magic, pure, unadulterated power coating our every breath, surrounding the dim sun with a vague outline of color. "Do you think the stone gives off magic?" I asked softly. "Or is this residual power left over from the dragons?"

"It has to be the stone," Torin decided, scanning the sky for any sign of a golden owl. "This island has been abandoned for three centuries. There's no ward that can survive that long without being replenished."

"Replenished how?"

"By feeding more magic into the structure on a regular basis or by blood." She looked worried. "Like the blood sacrifices performed by Solok during the Scythings. Those weren't totally without merit. They did, on some level, bolster the ward's integrity."

I drew my other weapon, shifted to a better fighting position on the seer's other side, and let more of my magic seep into the air around us, staining the air blue-black.

"Darkhold." Raziel peered through the mists to the empty, silent island. "I always thought this place was a myth. To actually be here…I have to admit, this is pretty fucking amazing."

Not the word I'd use to describe this hellhole as we drowned in the sulfurous odors and ravenous power seeping from the glittering black stone all around us.

"Zephryn is right there." Torin gazed longingly at that peak. "On the western face, about halfway up. Trapped inside a prison of obsidian."

"Let's get inside the ward first." The hair on my arms lifted.

Simon landed softly beside us, transforming into his Fae form the second his feet touched the ground, pulling Torin against him, his fingers digging in deep as he clung to her. She unbelted her dress—which it turned out was actually a robe—and swung the thin fabric over his shoulders.

The shifter looked beyond ridiculous wrapped up in a finely embroidered white robe, but there was no fear or hesitation in his eyes when they met mine.

"Torin and I were given sanctuary by King Zyghon himself. We've pored over the laws of Darkhold's histories, and we believe we can pass through the ward. So long as one of you is touching us, you can pass through, too. Raziel and I will go first. If we make it past the ward, I'll signal you."

I was already protesting halfway through his speech. "You believe? That's not good enough for me. We're not risking our lives on a guess. Even if your friend is still alive, none of this matters if we all die trying to get through the ward."

"We're sure this will work," Torin said quietly. "You have to trust us, Zor."

Laughter burst out of me. "Trust you? Torin, you've lied so many times before and this time…this time the stakes are personal." Every single part of me was screaming for us to get off this island. "And when the stakes are personal, people have a habit of sacrificing others to get their way, so forgive me if I have my doubts."

"I'll do it," Raz volunteered, and I fought my urge to strangle him where he stood.

"No. We can't take the chance." When he turned to me and glared, I bared my teeth. "I'm not taking a chance with your life. This is…"

The bastard didn't even wait for me to finish. He grabbed Simon's arm and disappeared. A minute later, through the mists and the glowing ward, two small forms reappeared in the center of the crater, the one in the robe raising a hand to flip me off.

"See? It worked. Let's go, Zorander." Torin took my arm. "One day, you'll learn not to doubt me."

I ground my teeth together. I didn't bother telling her that would never happen, and then, between one breath and the next, we stood beside them in the crater, taking stock of our dismal surroundings.

Down here, the brimstone stench was choking, and dragon skeletons towered over us with an enormity I couldn't wrap my head around. I'd never seen a creature this big, couldn't even imagine something this large moving across the ground, much less sailing through the air.

Mountains that looked like anthills now loomed like lonely sentinels. Down here the effects from the magic were devastating, my magic already waning as if the island was sucking out my marrow.

"This is a trap," I hissed to Zorander. "Are you feeling the effects?"

He flexed his fingers as if they were stiff. "We have to make this fast. Before we end up like them." He jerked his head to a bleached ribcage a few paces away. "As much as I'd like to end up on an island in the middle of an ocean, I have no desire to spend my time as a pile of bones."

Torin went straight to Simon. "There." She pointed above us. "Halfway up. Do you see that?"

Spikes of glossy black obsidian burst from the mountainside like a giant's crown had been laid there, completely at odds with the roughly tumbled granite that formed the rest of the island. Each spike had to be fifty feet tall, ten feet around.

"That's where we're headed."

The four of us went still, spotting the same thing.

Movement below those black obsidian spikes, followed by the distant crash of tumbling rocks. Raziel rolled his neck with a dry crack. "That answers that question. Now we have to find out how many and what are they."

"We weren't here long enough to see anything but the dragons." Simon kept his gaze pinned on that spot below the obsidian, but whatever that was didn't move again. "We only saw three dragons and they were ten, twenty times the size of whatever that was."

"So not a dragon, then." Raziel sounded almost…disappointed we weren't battling our way through a horde of enormous, dangerous beasts.

He shot me a crooked grin, and I couldn't help sighing when he added, "Not that I want to fight a dragon, mind you, but I'd be lying if I hadn't hoped to at least see one today."

"Let's get up there and free your friend." I double-checked my weapons, handing Simon my extra knife. Raziel did the same, giving Torin a blade small enough to conceal in her palm. "There's a place to land once we're up there?" I asked, holding out my hand to her.

"Zeph's den is a cave deep inside the mountain. There was a parapet outside the entrance, like the one we landed on but smaller. That was before the Oracle did…that." Simon shed the robe, then we flew upward through the mists.