The Eternal Dragon’s Call

Chapter 6: The Hunt at World’s Edge

"They are not just hunting us, Lyra, they are herding us like cattle into a slaughterhouse."

Xavier stumbled against the jagged face of Razor Ridge. His breath came out in ragged, freezing clouds. The air at this altitude was thin, but it was the Aether leaking from his own arm that made him dizzy. His left sleeve was shredded. Beneath the fabric, dark, vein-like cracks glowed with a sickening, violet light.

"Keep moving," Lyra hissed. She grabbed his jacket and shoved him forward. Her face was pale, her eyes constantly darting toward the sky. "If we stop, we are dead. You know that."

"My arm," Xavier gasped. He grabbed his shoulder, his fingers digging into the muscle. "It is burning. I cannot hold the energy anymore."

"Just one more ridge," she promised. She did not sound convinced. "We get over the peak, we find a way down. We survive."

"Survive for what?" Xavier spat. He kicked a loose rock into the abyss below. It vanished into the white mist. "To die in a different ditch? To let them catch us?"

"I am not dying for your nihilism," Lyra retorted. She pulled him around a narrow bend. "We are going to make it."

A voice boomed from above, cold and amplified by imperial steel.

"There is nowhere left to run, abomination."

Xavier froze. High above them, perched on a spire of black rock, stood a figure in sweeping silver plate. Commander Kaelen. In his hands, he held a long, humming rod of dampening iron—a soul-breaker.

"Commander," Xavier shouted back, his voice straining.

"Step away from the girl," Kaelen called down. His voice was calm, which made it ten times worse. "You are an insult to both species, Xavier. You are a beast who forgot his collar. Give her to me, and I will end your misery with a single stroke. You do not have to suffer the unraveling."

"You want her?" Xavier yelled. He looked at Lyra. She was trembling. He saw the way her hand hovered over her dagger. "You will have to come and take her."

"I am not going anywhere," Lyra whispered. She stepped in front of him. "Do not do this, Xavier. Do not bargain with him."

"I am not bargaining," Xavier said. He looked at his glowing arm. The pain was so intense it felt like his bones were turning to dust. "I am ending this."

"You are going to kill us both," Lyra said. She sounded scared now. Not for herself. For him. "If you push that energy out, your heart will stop. You are not strong enough."

"I have to be," Xavier said.

He ignored her. He ignored the cold. He looked up at the commander.

"You think you can cage me?" Xavier roared. "The Empire already stole my past! You think they can afford the price of my future?"

Kaelen laughed. It was a hollow, robotic sound.

"You have no future, creature."

Xavier closed his eyes. He forced his mind into the center of the pain. He found the rot in his own blood and he pulled on it. He reached deep into his own soul and tore the stitches open.

"Xavier, stop," Lyra screamed. She lunged for him, but a wave of violet pressure shoved her backward.

The air began to scream. It was a high, piercing sound that made the very mountain shake. Xavier’s entire left side erupted in light. The violet energy spilled out of his skin, soaking into the snow, turning it to black slush. He channeled it all into the peak above Kaelen.

"Go," Xavier choked out. He fell to his knees. The energy was eating him. He could feel his skin cracking. "Trigger the slide."

"No," Lyra cried. She reached for him again, but the ground beneath them began to heave.

Xavier pushed his hands into the snow. He felt the mountain groan. With one final, agonizing effort, he released the shockwave. The world turned white. The peak above Kaelen shattered with the sound of a thousand thunders.

The avalanche hit the slope with the force of a falling star.

"Xavier!" Lyra screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the roar of ice and stone.

The world went black.

Xavier came back to reality slowly. It felt like he was waking up inside a tomb.

His head pounded. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been shredded and stitched back together by a blind man. He tried to move, but his hands wouldn't budge. He felt the biting, familiar sting of cold iron against his wrists.

He opened his eyes. He wasn't on the mountain. He wasn't in the snow.

He was in a small, cramped room carved directly into living rock. It was warm—unnervingly warm. A fire crackled in the corner, casting long, dancing shadows against the walls.

He pulled at his wrists. They were locked in iron shackles that hummed with a dead, hollow magic. The magic-suppressing metal. It drained the air from his lungs, leaving him breathless.

"Lyra?" he croaked.

The room was silent.

He looked around. There were no chairs, no doors, no windows. Just the stone walls and the cold, unyielding iron on his skin.

"Lyra?" he said again, louder this time.

Nothing.

The silence of the cavern felt heavy, suffocating. He realized with a jolt of panic that his arm didn't hurt anymore. The scales were gone. The magic was gone. He felt... small. Human. Weak.

Where was she? Did Kaelen take her? Did he leave her in the snow?

He struggled against the cuffs, but they were tight, anchored deep into the wall. He was a prisoner. Again.

He leaned his head back against the stone and closed his eyes.

He had to get out. He had to find her. If she died because of what he did, then there was no point in any of this. No point in the blade, no point in the dragon, no point in the survival.

A shadow moved in the corner.

Xavier snapped his head up.

"Who is there?" he asked.

A man stepped into the firelight. He wasn't Kaelen. He wasn't a soldier. He was old, wrapped in heavy, dark furs, his face a web of deep, jagged scars. He looked at Xavier with eyes that had seen too much.

"You make a lot of noise for a man who is supposed to be dead," the stranger said.

"Where is the girl?" Xavier demanded, his voice cracking. "Where is Lyra?"

The old man walked over. He poked the fire with a long, iron rod. The sparks danced in the dark.

"The girl?" the man asked. He smiled, a slow, ugly expression. "She isn't here, boy. She was never here."

Xavier’s blood ran cold.

"She was right next to me," he said. "We were on the ridge. There was an avalanche."

"You were alone when I found you," the old man said. He leaned in close. His breath smelled like old copper and dried leaves. "I found you in the snow. You were burning, and you were talking to shadows. There was no girl. There never was."

Xavier stared at him. He felt the world tilt.

"You are lying," he whispered.

"Am I?" the old man asked. He turned to leave, his footsteps soft on the stone floor. "Rest, little dragon. The masters will be here by dawn to see if your heart is worth taking."

The man walked into the dark, and the door clicked shut.

Xavier was alone.

He looked at his hands, locked in the cold, dead iron. He thought about the watchtower. He thought about the look in Lyra’s eyes when she talked about her home. He thought about the feel of her hand on his chest.

Was she a ghost? Was he so far gone that he was making up people to keep him company?

No. He felt her touch. He felt the weight of her.

He stared at the flickering fire, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He had to get out. He had to know the truth.

If she was a lie, then everything he had done was for nothing. And if she was real, then he had to find her, before the Empire did what they had planned for them both.

He leaned forward, his forehead against the cold stone, and began to pull.

He wouldn't stay in this hole. He wouldn't die in the dark. Not until he found the truth.