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“Kael!” He shouted, pulling me into the tent just as the storm enveloped us. The world outside our tiny shelter became a maelstrom of fury, sand grains lashing against the fabric like a thousand serrated knives.
Inside, Theron held me, bracing us against the storm. But this wasn’t just a sandstorm; it was something ancient. Wrathful.
“Something’s wrong,” I shouted over the howling of the wind. “This isn’t just a storm.”
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled--the need to see was overwhelming. Crawling out of the tent, a pair of powerful arms lifted me and deposited me safely outside.
“Stay close to me,” Theron shouted, locking his hand around my belt. The wind almost knocked me off my feet, but I managed to steady myself and squinted through the sand.
Beneath the unforgiving weight of the storm, a new terror emerged. It was more than just sand and wind—it was an ancient rage made flesh. Its wings were like an extension of the chaotic sky above us, seeming to stretch for miles; scales glistening in the dim light of the sunset. Its roar shook the desert floor beneath us, the sand shifting as we sank deeper into it.
Screams of terror tore through the night, joining the chorus of the storm.
I saw Theron, his form outlined by the faint light of his burgeoning magic, shouting for me, but the wind stole his words before they could reach me. His magic surged, and I felt a tug, a connection between him and me, his power intertwining with my own, offering strength.
Drawing on our combined power, I channeled it through my necklace, calling the very sand that threatened us, turning it into a weapon. My magic danced, swirling, trying to tame the behemoth. Sand spiraled in a violent vortex, ensnaring the wyrm, but it wasn’t enough. The beast thrashed, threatening to break free. Snippets of screams and roars reached me, the wind breaking up the sound into a discordant wall of sound.
Desperation coursed through me, sharpening my focus. I turned the sand to metal, encasing parts of the wyrm, trying to force it away. An ear-splitting roar pierced through the wind and I covered my ears, screaming as I lost control of my magic.
Magic poured from me in a raw wave—unformed and potent—sweeping over the desert in my desperation. The wyrm paused, its head whipping about in the black blizzard as it searched for me. A pulse of magic answered my own. The power emanating from the wyrm was familiar—like a chord from a song I’d forgotten. The same energy that flowed through my veins pulsed within the beast, connecting us. It was a creature of Atar’s making. Like me.
A thought—a plea—reverberated through me. I shifted my magic, no longer to harm, but to communicate. The raw essence of my power reached out, enveloping the wyrm in a gentle embrace. I pushed the feelings I had for Theron toward it—protectiveness, affection, joy, love—anything to calm the rage and madness in its eyes.
It seemed to understand. Or perhaps it had the same longing, the same ancient ties. With a last roar, the sand wyrm soared upwards, disappearing into the veil of the night, leaving us with a silence that was almost deafening.
Theron’s arms were around me again, holding me close as we both trembled with the aftermath of what had just happened. The sandstorm had dissipated, leaving us in an eerie calm.
“I can’t believe they’re still alive,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of our labored breathing.
Theron shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the spot where the sand wyrm had disappeared. “Me either.”
A distant rumble echoed through the desert and stiffened.
“We need to move,” Theron said, his grip on me tightening. “Now.”
I nodded, hearing the urgency in his voice. We had to leave this place, and fast. The sand wyrm had spared us for now, but who knew what other dangers lurked in these desolate lands?
Chapter 13
Theron
Isurveyedthetreacherousroute that lay ahead. The Spider Path, with its jagged rocks and haunting silhouette, was the easiest entry into Athain. The path started innocently enough, winding up the rocky side of the mountain. Until it changed and was barely more than ledges suspended over perilous drops. It was only considered safe on Vaniraback. But beyond it were lush forests and a respite from the oppressive desert.
From our vantage point on the foothills, I could see for miles in every direction. The desert was visible to the south, stretching in black dunes that resembled the sea. To our north lay a rolling hillside covered in wild grasses and shrubs that waved in the wind like an emerald sea, the safer but longer option to enter Athain. Further away was a wall of pine trees that crested over a powerful river that snaked through the landscape far below us. The air smelled sweet; a mix of pinewood and fresh water that wafted from the valley below.
“It’ll be hard for the Remnants,” Tykas observed, his amethyst eyes looking over the landscape. He was emerging from the shell he’d built around himself. No longer was he the sad and withdrawn youth I remembered from court. Now that he was free of his family, he seemed to have found himself. He’d become more confident and brave—traits that had been clear after we encountered the sand wyrm. The beast had shaken everyone else, but Tykas leapt into action straight away, helping those that had been injured and setting the vaniras.
“It’ll be slow going,” I agreed.
He didn’t respond, his gaze following Varzora’s figure as she approached with Osiel. I cleared my throat, and his cheeks reddened as he turned his attention back to me.
“Ah, yes. But it’ll give us time to hunt and fill our supplies.”
“Theron. Tykas,” Oz greeted us, slightly formal, as if he was feeling out the Vennorin. I couldn’t blame him. The Rorels and Vennorins had a rough history, one that made trust difficult. Their families had been bitter rivals for centuries, going back to the days of an old feud when House Vennorin had betrayed House Rorel by separating a newlywed couple to wed the bride to a Lazan instead. It was rumored that she was already pregnant when they married her off, something the Rorels had never forgiven.
“There’s another trail you should know about. Up ahead, if you go into the gully, you’ll find a narrow valley before coming onto an easier path up the mountains. Zora and I found it when we fled.” Oz’s eyes hardened behind his glasses as he stared at Tykas and I realized the Vennorin had probably been present at the palace when his brother helped kill Varzorn.
Zora glanced between them, shifting her weight. “It’s longer, but it’s safer.”
