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Lance dropped like a stone, disappearing beneath the lip. He returned moments later, wings beating heavily.
“She’s not here anymore, is she?” Her voice cracked, and she resented the crack. Their relationship may be strained, but Nellith was still her mother. And that mattered. She'd not lose another person and survive it politely. Especially after what her father had done to them.
Lance made a low sound she'd never heard before. Not anger, but grief. Idonea looked away first.
“Then we check the Skyport. We’ll find a way.” Idonea waved him away from the cliff.
Back in the heart of town, she stepped into the Skyport office. The stale air was heavy with pipe smoke and old sweat. Behind the counter sat a clerk with sleep-heavy eyes and an ink-stained collar.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, barely looking up.
A wooden board hung behind him, scribbled with barely legible departure times.
“When’s the next ship north?”
He glanced at the board, as if surprised to find it still there. “Evening dock. Leaves at first bell tomorrow.”
“Pirates?” she asked, fingers twitching at her sides.
He gave a dry laugh. “What else sails these skies? Republic doesn’t come here unless they’re hunting a witch.”
She dipped her head in thanks, offering a tight smile. “I’ll have coin.”
“Or something better,” he muttered, his gaze slow and appraising.
She went very still, then met his gaze. "They'll take the coin."
She turned before he could answer and stepped back out. Outside, the clouds were slate-grey, and thunder rumbled faintly behind the hills. A storm was coming.
Lance swooped low, brushing her shoulder with his wing tip, forcing her to look up at him.
She clutched her satchel close.
“We’ll save her,” she said, eyes on Lance.
Her fingers curled into her palms. “I promise.”
Chapter 4
Lance spiralled down through the canopy of smoke-streaked clouds, silent as ever, his wings slicing through the wind. For once, he didn't hiss — the first mercy of the morning.
Idonea stood before the front door of Nellith’s home, her hand tightened around the satchel, its strap biting into her shoulder. Leaving the safety of Draugaros was never something she envisaged.
But standing there wouldn’t bring Nellith back. It wouldn’t keep the relic out of daemon hands.
The house looked smaller and emptier. The windows no longer glowed, no longer smelled of basil and black ink. Her palm pressed against the bloodied handprint stained into the wood.
She bowed her head and whispered, “I’ll bleed those that took you.”
Lance stayed out of sight, but never too far. His need for her tempered his eagerness, and he’d be no match against another witch or daemon. And he hid from others' gazes to protect his rarity. His wings stirred the wind above.
If there had been another way, she would’ve taken it. But no one sailed the oceans anymore. People culled the dragons, and the Republic built steel towers to declare the world civilised. Idonea thought both achievements were equally ugly.
The deep sea remained untamed. Beneath those black waves, horrors still stirred. The crushing pressure and Current forged horrors that lurked in waiting. No sane vessel dared the water anymore, not even to fish. And so, only the sky remained.
Idonea adjusted the goggles over her glasses as a gust tugged at her coat. The wind was rising, and storm clouds dragged low across the sky.
Back at the top of Thalorica, stretching up behind the Skyport office, lay her destination.
