“No!”

  Dorius fell to his knees, fingers gripping the cool dirt. The dragon batted with a forefoot at its hip, and Val’s body jerked as it was crushed, like a grape, in the flat of its palm.

  The giant black wolf-god snarled and snapped his jaws. His pet silver wolves were nowhere to be seen.

  When the dragon withdrew its clawed hand, Val’s body hung limp, her clothes stained with black. Dorius held his hands to his mouth, and rocked back to his heels.

  —

  He didn’t know what he had expected. Some part of him had hoped the moment he had called out to the creature it would turn its head and obey his call. Why had the Vigilants sent him if that was not the case? Why speak of the Weave bringing him here if he was not fated to be successful?

  He had been sick to his stomach, fearful he had chosen poorly again, until that moment Val had set the bonfire alight. The fire had soared so tall and sudden, his whole body had been shaken by the shockwave of the explosion. Then it roared like a feral animal and his heart had soared - this was magic! This was what his ancestors had once commanded! This was the blood that ran in his veins too!

  It felt invincible, a terrible energy at their fingertips. He could not comprehend power greater than what he saw in front of him. The influence they could wield, the opportunities it could open. His family, entire armies, the Pentarchy, all would be cast down, helpless against this!

  Then the dragon had come, a great terror in the sky, and when it winged close above them it had blacked out the sunset with its wings. Decorated with gold spines and talons, and eyes flashing burnished bronze like the accents his family wore, Dorius felt himself cowed by this ancestor species. On its head, a familiar sight brought to vivid life - four horns circling the head behind the eyes - just like every seal and statue in his families estates. A primal declaration of sovereignty that needed no titles and diminished the grandest of jeweled headpieces to mere trinkets. Its crown was horns of gold, its cape black wings and a blood red sky, its royal garments scaled armor of black that shimmered purple as muscles rolled beneath the surface. He knew one day he would weep at the memory of the creature before him.

  His family were pale imitations, fleeting shadows who dressed themselves in mimicry to something they had forgotten and would never match. Its rippling scale had flashed red and yellow as the sunset and fire reflected off its hide. And Val stood tall to challenge the dragon, her trust and service to him never to be surpassed, her own horned head casting dancing shadows of a different shape. It had filled him with so much hope and strength.

  He did not know what happened next, but there was sudden stillness. Within a blink the fire that had seared at the sky had extinguished and a cold still had settled. Val dropped to her knees, and the dragon arched its head to regard her. As if risen by some wild magic, ash and sparks floated in the air, dancing in the eddies of the dragon's wing beats. This was his moment, what else could be? The Cinereal Prince to step forward into a world of cinder. He had gathered all his strength and called to the dragon.

  “Dragon god! Hear me! Hear me and cease your anger!”

  The gold gaze that turned on him turned his blood cold.

  Then it opened its maw, white teeth flashing against pink tongue, and roared. With a shift of its body weight, its feet swung forward and it dived at him.

  Dorius had turned and run before his legs gave out under him.

  Branches and twigs cut at his face and hands as he fled blindly within the trees, desperately lifting his feet he stumbled and bounced between rocks and tree trunks, but somehow did not lose his footing. His chest heaved, his muscles burned. He crashed to a stop against a tree and leaned against it, desperately looking over his shoulder. Behind him, the sounds of Fenris’ yowls and dragon roars as the ground shook from their combat… and Val.

  “No no no…” he desperately gripped his clothing and dug his fingernails into his flesh, anxiety and fear overwhelming him. She would die, he had left her. He held onto the tree that was his support and gasped rapid, shallow breaths as he looked back the way he had come.

  Too weak for the heavy crown.

  Dorius snapped his head around, and next to him stood the blue roan mare, dark eyes watching him. Her shoulder was almost as tall as his head, her thick legs steady as if she had been carved from stone.

  “I can’t…” he could barely speak between breaths, “I can’t leave them…”

  But you have.

  The horse raised its wings slowly, stretching them to either side for him to see their full magnificence, banded and mottled like a white owl. Like Val, this creature was everything he was not; proud, resilient, muscled and vigorous. Quietly confident, she challenged him with her existence.

  “I…”

  She was right.

  He had walked from his own world into a mountain filled with ancient creatures, their wild shapes and strengths preserved by gods that were not his own. How easily and greedily he had coveted Val’s power as a tool for his use, how casually he had taken the aid of creatures that seemed to only have reasons to look down upon his species.

  It was monumental hubris. How naively he had thought this would work out? Childish wishful thinking, stupid and foolish. Like every previous failing, the bloodstains on his hands would only grow.

  Except this time he had stumbled so badly, there was no picking himself up.

  Failure and loss was the only thing waiting for him now. Bastian would leave him, Sylus would wait for him, and he would be permanently cast out. His family would root out his trade networks, ban Southold's Guild, and extinguish his Mother’s legacy. They would exert their influence to prevent the Phoenix from ever getting another contract, destroying his Father's. His people would be forced from their homes for better prospects, or go hungry and starve. Thousands of innocents, because he had failed them.

  Desperately he panted and looked back where he had come from. His anxiety snaked around his heart like the weight of chains, and he couldn’t find the strength to take even a single step back towards the battlefield.

  What would you even do? Fool two legger. Mocked the mare, tossing her head.

  Dorius looked at her, and then his own hands.

  “Nothing,” he drew a rattled breath, “But I have to go back.”

  He couldn’t end this without trying. He pushed away from the tree and felt his knees tremble, giving way. Crouched to catch his breath, he took quick breaths and in a rush of effort, sprinted with all his might. He stopped against another tree as his strength failed him again, and the mare trotted with him, wings tented over her body as she followed.

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  What are you? Not diminished, not rotted, not rusted. There was nothing to diminish in the first place. Only shadows and memories.

  The mare’s words weighed him down, the cries of combat filled him with only terror. Yet, he ran onwards. Till he entered the clearing once again in time to see the dragon swat at Val as she clung to its thigh, hanging by her dagger.

  —

  “No!”

  Dorius fell to his knees, fingers gripping the cool dirt. When the dragon withdrew its clawed hand, Val’s body hung limp, her clothes stained with black. Dorius held his hands to his mouth, and rocked back to his heels, the mare’s words echoing in his head. There was nothing to diminish in the first place.

  Val’s body twitched, and he gave a gasp of hope, and weakly she kicked and pushed at the dragon's side trying to dislodge herself - the strike had stuck her horns into its flesh! But her movements were jerky and weak, and the amount of blood was surely too much.

  I will try! Cried the dragon’s mind voice, a desolate and hollow female wail filled with sorrow.

  It reared back, and unfurled its wings from the huge spine that extended back from each wrist. With a great kick, and a buffet of wind so violent Dorius was forced to shut his eyes, the dragon climbed into the darkening sky, and Val with it.

  “Come back!” he cried after it, but the dragon would not listen.

  Fenris growled and shook his body, sending scraps of his own fur flying, as his head turned to watch the dragon fly away. His lips curled and huge white teeth gleamed in the final glow of the day.

  “We have to go after them!” Dorius begged, running up to a huge black leg and grasping the wolf’s fur.

  Fenris snarled and kicked him, Dorius tumbling to his behind with a cry.

  How? It is over! She is suicidal and barely coherent. You will die as your Fae has. Sneered the wolf.

  “Please, I beg you! Go after them, save her!”

  She tasked me with keeping you safe and so I shall. We must let Abrigale go.

  Dorius felt hot tears stream down his face, and he rose to his feet, hands gathered into fists.

  “I will go!” he yelled, “And you will follow if you are to keep your promise and keep me alive!”

  The wolf snapped his jaws shut above his head, and Dorius’ knees buckled.

  You are done, little Dragon Prince. The mocking derision that had always been in the wolf’s voice for him, even when he had seemingly laughed at a joke, extinguished what courage he had gathered. He and his quest had never been anything more than a distraction and amusement to this god, chased like the stick his twin companions had played with earlier in the day.

  The wolf turned, and began to stalk back into the trees, his wounds shimmering as strange magics knit them back together. Dorius was left alone.

  He screamed, and beat his hands against the ground, breaking the skin on his palms and drawing blood.

  How was this his fate? He had nothing left to him, no horns or claws to fight, no magic, no wings to fly. Nothing, except for the hubris that had carried him this far. He gathered his robes and stood.

  Do you wish to mount me, hume? If I carried you, we could catch the dragon and snatch your friend from death’s coming blade before her cord is cut from the tapestry?

  Dorius turned and looked at the mare’s dark eyes. Her coat rippled blue grey, like his colors.

  “Is it possible?”

  She reared, pawing her hooves over his head so he had to duck to save himself from being kicked in the head. She screamed and beat her wings, driving him to the ground again.

  No hume has ever crossed my back! Nor any other of my herd’s kind for generations since the Unrest. All have been unworthy! We serve the Monarchy alone! We have watched our last Queen's sleep for generations!

  “Please, I must go after them… I can save them both.”

  The mare dropped and lowered her head to eye him wearily, ears flat against her skull.

  “Please, you care for the dragon! I do not know why but you have watched over her, you have tracked her and followed since she woke,” Dorius climbed to his hands and knees, and waited, shaking.

  The mare was silent. The mountain air was still, only the remnant ashes from the bonfire danced in the sky, disappearing between the white spots of emerging stars.

  My name is Driftbane. When you cross my shoulder I will be forever bound to your service and exiled from my herd, for no horse who has submitted to another can ever again be wild and proud.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The mare snorted, and turned sideways, lowering one wing to use the wrist as a step for him to mount.

  I love my people. And I treasure our legacy as the last and only herd to have served the Dragoness, and no other. You who are her blood, please save her.

  Dorius did not hesitate in case she changed her mind. He scrambled up her offered wing and planted himself bare back between her wings, wrapping his hands in her mane to hold on. He had no experience riding bulls or talon steed, and had never had the wealth to try a horse, so he shut his eyes and gripped her with his legs and arms and every ounce of strength in his body.

  Muscles surged beneath him, the wind picked up, and the rocking rumble of a gallop beneath him smoothed to stomach lurching drops and surges with each wing beat. Driftbane’s mane whipped his face, and he dared to open his eyes to watch the world fall away beneath him. Together they soared above clouds the color of bruises.

  The dragon was easily spied in the growing moonlight, dark and waiting in the snow of a nearby peak. Driftbane tilted her wings and they dove towards her. At the last minute, with force that jolted Dorius forward on her back and almost threw him, wings snapped open again and brought them close to the dragon’s head. They circled, and Dorius leant over the mare’s side.

  “Bring me close,” he asked, "I need to make sure she hears us.”

  Without response Driftbane wheeled, and they came closer, behind the dragon's head above her back. Then with heavy, laborious beats, Driftbane hovered just out of reach. Dorius clung to her mane and leant over the open air and cried with all his might.

  “Mother of my blood! Hear me!”

  Below him in the snow, surrounded by a growing bloom of black, Val was lying. Her horn was broken, just as Til'wane's had been. The dragon lifted its head and turned its gaze towards them, great golden eyes narrowing as it regarded him. Its lip curled backwards, revealing rows of sharp white teeth, and a rattling growl began deep in the dragon's throat. Dorius could not tell if Val lived, she did not move, and the black stain on the snow around her only grew.

  “Mother of my blood! Spare her please!”

  The growl crescendoed into a roll of thunder, the dragon’s nostrils flared. Dorius urged Driftbane down to land and slid off the winged horse before she even came to a stop, desperately scrambling over the snow to Val’s body. There was the barest movement of her chest.

  He turned and held both hands to the sky between Val and the dragon. And summoning every fiber of his being he cried, “No more! I cannot stop what has happened, but I can control what will! Mother of my blood! You can rage no longer!”

  The dragon uncurled, its tail twisting through the air as it lowered its head and closed its wings within the giant spines at its wrists. One word drifted in his mind in reply, the first it had spoken not wracked with torment and grief, but instead hope.

  Mother?