Page 10 of Waking Her Dragon

"If he's alive and you can't see his spirit, then somebody isn't hiding Garrett's body." Dropping to a harsh whisper, she kept right on going. "They're hiding his soul."

The words felt like a physical drop in temperature. Sydney stared at the Necromancer, the phantom frost she had felt in her chest suddenly returning.

"Think about what you just witnessed with Aodhan," Ginnie pressed on, looking directly at Sydney. "You felt him faintly, but only after Garrett broke through to shout that warning.”

Looking at her Mate, she continued, “This isn't ordinary concealment, Carrick. They haven't just thrown him in a dungeon or cloaked him with standard shitty camouflage Magic. This is metaphysical imprisonment. They have bound his very soul, and they've bound his Dragon King right alongside it."

Carrick didn't answer immediately. He didn't need to. The grim set of his jaw told Sydney everything she needed to know. They weren't dealing with a rogue faction or a standard enemy force anymore.

They were dealing with something far above the usual bad guy pay grade. They were faced with a Being who had the power to cage a god.

The realization that Garrett’s soul was bound in a metaphysical cage sent a sickening shudder through Sydney’s core. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating.

Bound. Caged. Wandering in the dark.

The word wandering struck a chord deep inside her mind, vibrating against a memory she had tried to lock away. Images of the Hall of Knowledge flashed in her mind’s eye. The smell of ancient parchment, the majesty of the Tome, and the cryptic lines she had uncovered about The Special One and the Wandering Dragon.

She had thought it was old history. She had assumed Shavon sent her there to understand the past, to learn about the people who had walked this brutal path before her.

“Read it again,” Kara flatly said.

“Still being bossy, I see,” Sydney teased, trying and failing to lighten the mood.

“Not bossy… Insistent… Serious…” The Dragon Queen was practically vibrating with a sudden, sharp clarity. “Sydney.” Her tone had softened a bit but was still adamant. “Read the words again.”

“Duh, I don’t have the Tome.”

The instant she said the words, she whispered, “duh,” to herself, then added, “It’s burned into my memory. How could I forget?”

Closing her eyes, she forced her mind back to the ancient text. She went past everything she’d found in the first two weeks, mentally thumbed through the side texts that didn’t pertain to the moment, and finally found one of the very last passages she’d uncovered before leaving the Hall of Knowledge. “The Special One shall walk the path of embers, while the Wandering Dragon is cast into the Void, tethered but untraceable, a King without a throne, a heart without a beat...”

Sydney’s eyes snapped open. A cold sweat broke out across her neck.

“Sydney?” Ginnie asked, her hand resting gently on the young woman's arm. “What is it? What did you just think of?”

“The prophecy,” Sydney whispered, her voice trembling as the pieces shifted in her mind. “In the Hall of Knowledge. I thought it was a historical account. I thought the 'Wandering Dragon' was just a title for someone from the ancient lineages. But it’s not.”

Carrick stepped closer, his intense, warrior focus locking onto her, even as his hand gently rested on her shoulder, sending wave after wave of healing, calming Magic to her. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not past tense, Carrick.” She looked up at him, hoping he saw the conviction in her eyes. “It’s happening now.” The terrifying truth clicked into place as she uttered every word. “Garrett isn't just missing. His soul is wandering. Aodhan has hidden them both so deep inside the folds of their own fractured consciousness to keep the enemy from destroying them completely. They are tethered to this world, but untraceable.”

Gaze dancing between Carrick and Ginnie, the sheer scale of the prophecy crashed down upon her shoulders. “The Wandering Dragon isn't a physical description of a lost warrior,” Sydney breathed, the suspense tightening like a noose in the room. “It’s Garrett. His soul is lost in the Void right now. The prophecy wasn't telling me who came before me... it was warning me about who I have to go save.”

The weight of Sydney’s realization hung in the air, thick and undisputed. Garrett’s soul was wandering the Void, and the ancient Prophecy was unfolding in real-time.

Carrick didn’t argue. He didn’t pace. He simply reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and stared at the dark screen. “When you knocked on the door…”

Voice dropping into a register that made the hairs on Sydney’s arms stand up, he kept going. “I was on the phone with Gunnar.”

Sydney’s breath hitched. Gunnar. Carrick’s brother. She knew his history. Knew the brutal toll his recent captivity had taken on him and knew how rarely he reached out now that he was back.

“Why did he call?” Sydney asked, sensing the sudden shift in the room's gravity.

“He didn't know about Garrett,” Carrick said, looking up, his gaze intensely focused, the elliptical pupils of his Dragon King superimposed over his own. “He called because of something he felt an hour ago. Ever since he returned, his senses have been hyper-attuned to the dark underbelly of the Realms. He told me he felt a distortion. A sudden, violent tear between the ley lines, dripping with old sorcery.”

Ginnie moved closer, her eyes wide. “What kind of sorcery?”

“He couldn't pin it down completely,” Carrick replied, his jaw tightening. “But he described it as a suffocating, static pulse. Like an ancient cage slamming shut, instantly choking out a massive font of light. He thought it was a localized remnant from the day of his escape flaring back to life. It freaked him out enough to break his silence and call me.”