Quest for Dragon's Fire: A Young Adult Epic Fantasy Adventure (Titan Academy for Mages Book One 1)
Author: Lee, K.N.
Date: 2019-08-12
Publisher: Dragon Roots Emporium

Quest for Dragon’s Fire

Titan Academy for Mages Book One

K.N. Lee

Copyright © 2019 by K.N. Lee

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

For my fairy-godmother

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.

Emily Dickenson

World of Titania

Giran Empire

Human Territory

- Hempstead
- Evyn’s Gate
- Kura
- Perth (Capital City)
- Larkath
- Myristown

Arundell

Human Territory

- Cape Run
- Tide Lands
- Dyon
- Jin-Ah

The Vale

Elf territory

- Saldoria
- Athenia
- Halsford
- Brittonia

Obscura

Dark fairy territory

- Darth
- Mirrow
- Ines
- Port Midnight

Solaris

Ashen wasteland. Former land of the light fairies

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

A Look at The Blood Lottery

A Look at Throne of Deceit

About the Author

Also by K.N. Lee

Prologue

A bone-chilling howl erupted from the outside.

High Cleric, Laurel clasped her hands over her mouth as she gazed out the tower window into what was once a pristine paradise with white shores and blue skies.

Lion’s Keep faced the village of Cape Glenaran, which looked out to the sea. As her heart thumped in her chest, she beheld a dark cloud that stretched across the sky—a cloud that black, winged creatures darted from.

With fire erupting from their throats, and eyes as red as rubies, the screams of the villagers filled the foggy dawn.

Necro was coming, and bringing all manner of terror with him.

“What do we do?” Captain Silas asked, his gaze following hers. “This is something my men cannot battle. This is evil.”

As a warrior, he knew only the art of battle and weapons. He knew how to kill a man with sharp objects and brute force. But, this darkness immortal, and would not bow to acts of mortal warfare. This creature would slaughter them all, if she didn’t act.

She shook her head, and turned to him. “No,” she said, under her breath. Her brows knitted together. “This is something ancient—something feral.

“Magic?”

Nodding, a shiver ran up her spine as she realized what she’d have to do.

“Yes,” she said. “And, this is what I’ve prepared for my entire life. We can fight magic with our own. Hurry, summon the clerics into the temple, and send word to The Vale that they must gather their armies. Master Alistair will know what to do.”

“It shall be done,” he said.

As Silas raced to execute her command, Laurel put on a brave face, hoping to rally the others into something they’d never anticipated. Necro was roaming free, sucking the life out of everything in his wake, and they would stand against him.

Even if it meant this would be their last day in the land of the living.

1

The soft splatter of cool rain dripped onto Wren’s hood.

She sat in the tree, waiting, listening. It was just before sunset when the horns would blow and the villagers would be called back to town before curfew. Nightfall meant danger for anyone who dared to linger outside of the gates of The Vale.

It was up to Wren and the other Dragon Elite to keep them safe—to protect them from the beasts who prowled at night.

She’d taken this mission from the King of Saldoria—a king who balked at being sent the ‘little fairy’ instead of one of the elven males from the Elite.

Arrogant bastard.

She glanced at the darkening sky, and the gray clouds that rolled across at a leisurely pace. From the sweet smell of the air, she could tell that a storm was coming. She loved a good storm. Perhaps the weather would keep the creatures who haunted most children’s nightmares away.

When the loud horns began to blow, she settled in on her belly, hiding within the leaves of a tall tree. The black bark and dark, evergreen leaves were perfect for such a disguise. Her honey-gold hair was hidden beneath her hood, and her olive skin helped her camouflage herself along with the branches and foliage.

She pressed her ear to the branch, listening to the wood nymphs humming. It was a hypnotizing melody that almost lulled her to sleep.

Peeking down at the villagers as they left the fields and lakes from a busy day gathering food and supplies, she spotted North. He walked behind his two younger brothers, ushering them on as they begged to stay out and play just a bit longer.

With a crooked smile on his face, and long chestnut hair falling into his eyes, he was one of her oldest friends from the Titan Academy for Mages.

She was coming of age to leave the Academy and pursue a life of her own. It was either that, or continue her studies to rise up the ranks of mages, and perhaps ascend to greater things.

She’d chosen her path, and the Dragon Elite was where her heart belonged.

The silence that followed the procession of the villagers away from the forest was unsettling. She tried to focus on the hum of the nymph-folk and the soft drip of rain. Before long, thunder began to vibrate across the sky and strike lightning with a loud crackle that perked her up. She pushed herself to her bottom and wrapped her toned arms around her slim frame. The wind picked up and her soaked cloak and tunic began to cling to her in the most uncomfortable fashion.

It was then that she noticed something out of the ordinary—something…odd.

Two pairs of glowing red eyes emerged in the looming darkness as the sun set. She held her breath, tensing her neck as she watched a two-headed basilisk creep through the forest in search for food. The snake-like heads sniffed and searched the thick underbrush of the forest floor and let out a shrill sound unlike anything Wren had ever heard.

Lips parted, she watched in awe as they seemed to communicate with one another in a series of shrieks and grunts that reminded her of a pig. Swallowing, she reminded herself of why she was there in the first place.

She carefully pulled an arrow from the quiver on her back, not blinking and barely breathing. As the storm raged on, she nocked the arrow and pulled the string back as far as it would go.

Rain fell into her eyes, clouding her vision. She blinked them away and clenched her jaw. Perhaps it was a bad day for a hunt, but she had no choice. She’d taken this mission, and would execute it.

She sucked in a long breath of the cool air, and said a mental prayer, asking her wisp guides for clarity.

Releasing the breath, she also let go of the arrow and watched it soar through the night and into the chest of the deformed basilisk.

The roar that resulted made her jump, almost falling from the tree. She held steady, shivering as the massive creature ran. Her arrow protruded from its body.

“Fiddlesticks,” she growled, and with a leap from the tree, she descended down to the forest floor, landing with barely more than a soft squish in the mud.

The basilisk ran, and she chased it, nocking arrows and shooting as fast as her skilled fingers could go.

The hide was tough, and as she ran behind the frantic creature, it took two more arrows into the back of the beast’s heads to send it crashing down to its death. The thud made the entire surrounding area vibrate, and sent dirt flying through the air.

Skidding to a stop, she breathed heavily, lifting her hood and exposing herself to the onslaught of rain. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she knelt and felt the beast for any signs of life. Closing her eyes, she thanked the Mother for her blessing. Then, she removed her dagger and cut out the beast’s heart.

As she did so, her body trembled at feeling the spirit leave the the beast. For a moment, she was overcome with sadness for the poor creature. Her hand glowed a faint orange, and she placed it onto the belly of the beast, and closed her eyes.

“On to the Mother,” she said. “May your journey be peaceful.”

It was the only way she could do this job—to come to terms with bringing death to any living creature.

She was a fairy, through and through, even if she only had scars where her wings had once been—even if she was one of the last of her kind.

2

Wren strode through the massive wooden doors of Saldoria Castle, a cold, dripping basilisk heart in her fist.

Dressed in their lavish gowns, and sparkling jewels, the posh elves of the Saldorian court gasped in horror as blood splattered onto the polished marble floors. Wren sauntered her way toward King Glen.

With a grin on her face, she tossed the heart onto the floor, at his slippered feet, and lifted her triumphant gaze to his bright, yellow eyes.

Then, she placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head as her hood fell back and released a cascade of lush, golden hair.

“As requested, my king,” she said, feigning a deep bow. “The pesky basilisk who has been hunting your villagers. I tracked him down and brought you his heart.”

Silence filled the room, and Wren eyed every elf who stared at her in disbelief.

The crimson shade that filled the king’s cheeks struck her blood cold. Her smile faded and her hands dropped to her sides. She began to reconsider her entrance. She knew it was against decorum, but the king had doubted she could execute the task. While the other Elite were off on greater missions, she was left with the scraps, with picking off minor nuisances.

Instead of addressing her himself, he whispered something to High Cleric, Zella.

Zella walked to her, all airs and grace, her long velvet gown of indigo and gold glittering in the light of the chandeliers. Wren tensed, her stomach clutched tight, and lifted her eyes to hers, hoping for mercy.

She offered a tight smile, and gazed down at the blood trailing into the throne room, and back to Wren. Wren could tell that her former teacher was disappointed in her theatrics.

“Thank you, Wren, dear,” Zella said. “You may return to the Academy.”

“But,” Wren began, and was cut off.

“Go home,” Zella said, with such finality, that Wren had no choice but to turn and head back outside.

As she left the castle, everyone watched her go, and then returned to their gossiping.

Sighing, she stood outside in the rain, just before the doors.

Blood was rinsed from her hands by the cold droplets, dripping onto the stone steps like red wine spilled onto a white tablecloth. It was washed away, pooling into puddles before trickling down in small rivers.

She’d done little more than make a fool of herself in front of the Saldorian court. While she’d tried to prove her worth and capability to those who looked down on her, they’d more than likely lost more respect for her due to her rugged sensibility.

She glanced back at the two guards who stood on either side of the door and shrugged.

“That didn’t go according to plan, did it?”

Neither replied, simply ignoring her as she turned away and pulled a small orb from her pocket.

The orb glowed a dim blue as she rubbed her thumb across the slick, shining scales.

She brought her lips close to it and whispered.

“Awaken.”

She held out her hand with the orb within it and a bright light came crashing through the scales like the sunlight through broken glass. Gold and yellow nearly blinded her and the guards who stepped back.

A smile stretched across her face as the orb lifted from her hand and hovered in the air. Her hair blew around her face as wind rushed toward her.

With a pop, the scales separated like chainmail, and light bathed their faces in heat.

A sleek, black dragon appeared before her, its wings outstretched, shielding her from the rain, and bowed at her feet. Two, large silver eyes glowed in the dark and closed in reverence to its master.

She stroked its smooth head, and hopped onto the saddle on its back.

“Where shall we go?” the dragon asked through their telepathic connection.

“Home, Luna,” she said, and Luna lifted off the ground and took them up into the night sky.

3

Wren returned to the Titan Academy for Mages just before the gates were closed and locked to guests.

Luna flew over to the gardens, open fields, a sparkling lake, and above a long white path made of stone until they reached the maze of ivy-wrapped walls.

On the top of a steep hill stood the massive structure that had once been a temple for the gods, and now served as classrooms and housing for the last mortals born with magical abilities.

After Luna landed, Wren rested her head against hers. For a moment, their heartbeats synced and they breathed in unison. They were one, and it was the most loved Wren had ever felt.

With several towers and an open-air terrarium in the center, it was bigger than a palace, and the tallest building in the realm.

For most, it was a seasonal boarding school, but for Wren, it was home.

It had always been home.

Luna’s eyes glowed as Wren pulled back and held out her hand. She gave Luna one last smile and said the words that would send the dragon to her home inside the orb.

“Slumber.”

Within a second, Luna was sucked away into the orb that wrapped around her, and fused the dragon scales into a smooth egg-shaped crystal.

She sighed, missing her dragon already. It was time to go inside and face the consequences for what she’d done.

As she turned to head inside, she hoped that Zella hadn’t returned from her trip to the castle before her. All she wanted to do was retreat to her private quarters, bathe, and sleep as late as possible.

When she entered the Academy’s main entrance, heads turned at seeing her.

Many of the students, clerics, and servants were still wide awake and preparing to retreat for the evening.

To her dismay, the doors burst open from behind her. She turned and beheld as a red wolf stood inside the entryway.

Her face drained of color and she prepared herself for what was to come.

The red wolf shifted, and morphed into that of a beautiful elf with long crimson hair and blue eyes.

Those eyes met Wren’s and sent fear into her heart.

Zella was more than her teacher, trainer, and guardian.

She was a mother to her—the only one she’d ever known.

Zella spoke through clenched teeth. “Wrenessa Grey, what were you thinking?”

Groaning, Wren turned and headed for the double stairs that led up to the floors where the students slept. She resided on the top floor, with the other Dragon Elite, where they could take flight from the roof at a moment’s notice.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Wren said. “I simply executed my mission as commissioned.”

“And, disrespected the king while you were at it.”

“Hardly,” Wren shot back. “Had he never seen a deformed fairy before?”

Zella took her by the shoulder, and spun her around. “One more retort and I’ll have you locked away in the tower with Anista Crow.”

Her face blanched, a gasp bubbling from her throat. Anista Crow was a mage who had been driven to madness by her own power.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Zelle pointed a finger at her face. “I would,” she said. “If you drove me to it. You know better than such shows of rebellion. You know better than to enter unannounced, armed, and without proper introductions.”

Wren crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. “I didn’t think it was that serious.”

She took Wren by the arms, her face softening. Uncrossing her arms, she lowered her voice into a more pleasant tone. “Wren, my dear. We both know you’re brighter than that. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“What?” Wren asked, brows lifted. “Try to show them I’m more than a witless, useless girl? I don’t see Flint or Bohdi getting chided when they return from their missions. I know its because I’m the only female in the Elite. I know its because I’m a wingless fairy.”

“Yes,” Zella said, her face softening. “We both know you were born for more than scouting the skies and fighting off bandits, and basilisks. And, we know you are not deformed. You are a beautiful fairy with many talents. Don’t let your wings lessen you.”

Tears burned Wren’s eyes as Zella stroked her cheek.

“You’re better with a bow and arrow than half the archers in the kingdom,” Zella said. “But, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You are of age to begin your journey into womanhood—to be greater than you’ve ever dreamed.”

Sighing, Wren looked down. “As what?”

Pursing her lips and flickering her gaze to the tall window that looked out to the mountains, she gave Wren’s shoulders a pat.

“You’ll know,” she said. “Soon enough.”

Zella left her, and Wren was left with a look of vexation on her face.

The cryptic answer was more than she’d expected, and as she headed up the stairs to her quarters, she began to wonder if there was something Zella knew about her that she didn’t know herself.

Disheartened, and with blood staining her hands, she trudged up the staircase to her private sleeping quarters. While most mages were brought to the Academy as adolescents at the first sign of their magical ability, this had been her home since she was a baby. From what she’d been told, she’d been found nearly dead, and covered in blood in one of the villages that had once belonged to the fallen kingdom of Solaris—a village destroyed by a dark Titan.

How she survived, and who cut off her wings, was a mystery.

As she fell asleep that night, a whisper in the dark made her eyes pop back open.

“Mine,” a raspy voice purred.

4

The next morning, Wren awakened and prepared for her last week of training at the Academy. She’d barely been able to sleep after being scolded by Zella.

It was time to act more like an adult, and resist her urges to show off. She’d already proven herself, but it never seemed to be enough.

Soon, she’d be set free and sent to live in the barracks with the rest of the Dragon Elite.

She walked the white path that crisscrossed through the grounds of the Academy, her bag hanging on her hip with the materials she’d need for her lessons.

Fall began to turn the leaves from green to a myriad of shades of gold and yellow, red and orange, brown and purple. The ivy on the side of the main building turned a deep ruby red, and the leaves shiny and rich.

She’d miss this place, and the comfort she’d felt during her time as its ward and student. She sighed as she peered up at the pointed tops of the towers that stretched high into the clouds. She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her cheeks, and breathed in the scent of The Vale.

“Morning,” Flint said, breaking her from her thoughts.

She opened her eyes and frowned. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, and turned to walk backward, away from her. A cocky grin came to his face. “I’ve been asked to train a class.”

“Which one?” Jealousy bubbled up from her gut. He was only two years older than her and already had a teaching position. How could he do that and lead the Elite?

She folded her arms across her chest, and eyed him.

“Nothing too important,” he said, and laughed, turning away from her.

Great.

She just hoped he wouldn’t show up in one of her final lessons.

She already had enough of him during her Elite training and missions. And, within days, she’d be sharing sleeping quarters with him and the other young men of their squad.

She shuddered, but it was the only way they’d ever accept her. It wasn’t as though Master Alistair and Zella were putting her out.

It was her choice.

Sighing, she headed to the tunnels under the colosseum, where students had painted murals and pictures from their Dreamwalks with High Cleric Posey, the Dream Master.

She stepped into the coliseum, gazing up at the hundreds of students who were in attendance and prepared for one of their most important lessons. Relief washed over her that Hazel had saved her a seat. She settled into a row beside her.

She looked like sunlight personified, in a bright yellow frock that matched her cheerful disposition. Her eyes were the color of her name, a bright blend of green and gold, and her hair was a long, wavy gold.

To be an elf and beautiful.

“You’re late,” Hazel said.

Wren shrugged. “You’re always early.”

A soft chuckle arose from her friend, but was quickly cut off as a hush filled their surroundings.

Everyone silenced themselves as Master Alistair entered the coliseum, his aura bright and crisscrossing around his body as he stood in the center. Rings of golden light encircled him, and Wren and the others marveled at how strong his power was—how controlled it seemed to be.

She only wished she could harness her inner power in such a way.

Master Alistair had a story for every event, major or minor, making it sound like he’d been there in person. He encouraged his students to interrupt his lectures if they had questions. Those interruptions led to interesting discussions of the Elders and the Ancients, and the gods of Aden.

“We’re going riding tomorrow,” Hazel whispered, interrupting Wren’s notes on her leather journal.

She lifted a brow and glanced at her. “North is coming as well?”

Hazel nodded. “Of course.”

It was something to look forward to.

* * *

Wren headed back to her quarters after a day of lessons. When she went up the narrow staircase, she caught sight of a messenger at her door.

That’s odd.

She never received a message or parcel during her entire time in the Academy. She had no family who would send her anything.

Nonetheless, Wren shot him a smile as she started down the hallway, but his voice stopped her.

“Ah, you’re here,” he said. “A parcel.”

She stared at the chest he pulled from his bag, and up to see him smiling, dimples forming at the corners of his mouth.

“Everything okay, Wrenessa Grey?”

She looked up from the chest. “Yes,” she said, her throat a bit dry. “Thank you.”

He nodded and went back to his sorting of his bag.

Wren hurried into her room, and closed the door behind her. An excitement rose within her chest. She’d forgotten to close the shutters, and a chilly fall wind blew in. She quickly pulled a cloak over her arms and settled onto the soft rug on her floor.

Was this a gift for her birthday?

She was unsure. There wasn’t a message, or anything to give her a clue as to who sent it to her.

Tears threatened to come forward, and she willed them away, blinking any moisture away.

A gift was something special. No matter what was in that box, she would cherish it for the rest of her days.

Bright embellishments decorated the small chest, and caught the light spilling in from the open window.

Inhaling, she opened the lid.

Inside, there was plush, velvet with a jewel in the center.

She gasped.

It couldn’t be.

An energy stone?

Those were only given to the highest of clerics.

“No,” she said, frowning as she eyed the mysterious jewel. “It truly couldn’t be that at all.”

At first, it was a blue deeper than the midnight sky with brilliant streaks and emerald flecks. Then, it changed colors to that of honey, and seemed to be lit from within. It then shimmered as though made of water, and nearly took her breath away.

Wren had never seen anything so beautiful—not outside of her dreams.

She reached for it, but the instant her fingers touched the stone a surge of energy shot through her like liquid fire. It flowed through every nerve, muscle, and bone. She felt the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rise. Her vision filled with the reds and blues and greens, and the whoosh of air and wind that encircled her.

A bright light appeared before her, and golden flames filled the room.

That was the last thing she saw before her vision went black.

5

The tree was white, with black leaves, and grooves marked red by the crimson blood that trailed downward.

Once, it had been lush with glittering flowers and a constant stream of pixies flying in and out of the thick mist that hovered around it like a fog. It gave life and power to all of those who sat beneath its canopy of leaves.

The Mother Tree.

It stood in the center of The Vale, with miles of green meadows stretching outward toward the mountains.

Flint gazed upward at the dying leaves that crumbled into black dust at his gentle touch.

His heart seized with sorrow for what he and Reed witnessed.

“This cannot be happening,” Reed said, removing his cap as he fell to his knees.

“Aye,” Flint said. “But, it is. Something isn’t right here. Something sinister is at work.”

“The Mother Tree is dying?”

They looked to one another and Flint nodded his head.

Reed’s eyes went to the grass as he lowered his head.

“What will happen to The Vale if the Mother Tree no longer sustains our realm? Will we have to leave?”

“Come, we must tell Master Alistair,” Flint said, and whistled for his dragon. “The Academy has to have a solution.”

Hope filled Reed’s gaze. “Perhaps he can do something.”

“We can only hope,” Flint said, as he climbed on the dragon’s back, and took to the sky.

6

Wren opened her eyes to stone walls and a large tree with branches that curved upward toward the glass ceiling that covered the entire dome-shaped building.

What happened?

Struggling to sit up, she looked around the room, as confusion flooded her memory. It smelled of orange and mint oil, and fresh flowers. Hazel sat in a chair beside her bed, scribbling in her journal.

“You’re awake!” Hazel sprang up from the chair, her eyes wide with surprise. “Don’t move,” she said, and ran for the open door.

Wren began to call for her, only to find her throat was dry, and her voice was raspy. She cleared her throat and reached for a cup of water on the nook carved into the wall.

She was back a moment later, nearly breathless. A healer fairy, with blue wings fluttered inside. Her hair was gray, but not from age, and bounced in tight curls around her small face. She wore a pale blue gown and apron, with butterflies embroidered into the fabric.

Hazel smiled with relief, as the healer closed her eyes and held them over Wren’s body.

“What happened?” She was in one of the infirmary rooms, with a small Mother tree grown from the seeds of the original tree that shielded The Vale from the rest of the world. It would heal her faster, and bring comfort.

She sighed, feeling its healing properties. Still, frustration threatened to overwhelm her.

The last thing Wren remembered was opening the mysterious chest with the jewel.

“Your maids found you on the floor of your room, and couldn’t awaken you.”

“Just a bit of fatigue,” the healer said, with certainty, as she lowered her hands and smiled at her. “You just need a bit of rest.”

“Are you certain?” Wren asked, unsure.

“Do you feel any pain?”

She shook her head. Other than being a bit disoriented, she felt fine.

Brilliant actually.

“Good. You did worry us a bit, dear. You haven’t moved or opened your eyes in three days,” she said, and smiled down at Hazel. “And, neither has your friend.”

That made Wren smile as well. Hazel took her by the hand, and gave it a squeeze.

“Am I free to return to the Elite now?” She couldn’t imagine how much she’d missed, or what missions she’d been unable to take.

“Well, you do seem to be fine now. I did check for any energy blockages or injuries, and all I found were areas of profound fatigue. So, I think its best if you stay for another day. Someone has to force you to rest, it seems.”

Wren sighed. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

Flint would surely make her work twice as hard at their drills back at the barracks.

“Rest, and I’ll have someone bring lunch and tea for the both of you.”

After the healer left, Hazel sat beside her once more and stared at her neck.

For a moment, she stood there, brows furrowed in confusion.

There was something she was supposed to remember when she woke up, but it was a faint memory that flew away as soon as she tried to grab it. Sinister whisperings. Darkness. Death.

She shuddered.

“What’s wrong?” Hazel asked, lowering the tunic she had in her hands.

Wren shook her head. “I don’t remember,” she said, softly. “I think I had a dream, an important one.”

“Oh, I see. Well, it’ll return to you if it was very important. She frowned. “Where did you get that amazing necklace?”

Wren could feel her cheeks pale, and eyes widen as she looked down to see the stone that had knocked her out, secured to a silver necklace, and hanging around her neck.

Who put this on me?

7

Wren examined her necklace, baffled by its presence, and what it had done to her the first time she’d touched it. Hazel left to get some sleep, and Master Alistair came to check on her. Despite being the headmaster and protector of The Vale, he was the only father figure she had ever had.

He had to duck to step into the small room, his long hair pulled back at his nape. She smiled at him as she noticed he brought the most beautiful flowers, and handed them to her.

She buried her face into the blossoms, breathing them in and hoped he didn’t notice when she blinked back tears. The flowers were from the Valley of the Saints, and had healing properties. They were a rare breed that he grew in his office, and refused to let anyone so much as touch them.

“Slacking on your lessons, I see,” he said. “Mischief maker.”

She couldn’t help but smile, sensing he spoke in jest.

Pulling a chair closer to the bed, he sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“I’m happy to hear that you’re on the mend, Wrenessa. You frightened Zella and I, and many of the students and staff.”

Wren didn’t answer right away. She wasn’t sure she could trust her voice. She wasn’t used to having anyone actually care what happened to her.

“I’m not sure what happened,” she said, and held the necklace outward, and away from her. She’d been able to touch it ever since she’d noticed it was around her neck, but it still frightened her.

“What is that?” Master Alistair asked, narrowing his eyes at the jewel.

She shrugged. “I wish I knew. Someone sent it to me,” she explained. “I’m sure this is what made me black out in the first place.”

“Interesting,” he said, and scratched his chin. “Who do you suppose sent it?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps the king of Saldoria? For killing the basilisk?”

“Hmm.”

She chuckled. “I suppose that does sound unlikely. He barely wanted me to take the mission.”

“Well,” Master Alistair said, leaning back in the chair. “It isn’t entirely impossible. I do wonder why it caused such a fuss.”

“Is it an energy stone?” Wren asked.

He eyed it, and shook his head. “I don’t believe so. I’m not getting that from it. Perhaps—”

When he paused, her interest sparked, and she sat up taller.

“Perhaps, what, Master?”

He stood, and stared down at her in silence. As he looked at her, a slight glow filled his eyes and she found herself holding her breath.

Something had changed.

“I’m sure its just a simple jewel. Beautiful, but nothing to worry about.”

Her brows furrowed, and he turned to leave. Before he did so, he gave a glance over his shoulder.

There was so much in his gaze that she couldn’t comprehend.

“Make sure you get well soon, Wrenessa,” he said. “The world needs you to be at your best.”

With that, he left, and Wren slumped back into her pillow, more confused than ever.

8

Days passed after the arrival of Wren’s mysterious jewel.

“Wake up, Wren,” a familiar voice sang, waking her from her dreams.

Wren groaned, her eyes opened to see the face of one of her oldest friends, Hazel.

“Up, up,” Hazel said.

Wren frowned, annoyed to see the sun had barely risen outside of her window.

“I’d planned on sleeping until noon,” Wren said.

Hazel handed her a cup of hot tea. Despite her annoyance, she accepted, and sat up to sip the fragrant brew.

With the first sip, she already began to feel a bit better. Her fatigue was replaced with a surge of vitality, and the thick honey soothed her dry tongue and throat.

Lifting her brow, she sniffed the tea, and eyed Hazel.

“Ginseng and ginger?”

Nodding, Hazel walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out a pair of leather pants and one of Wren’s favorite tunics.

“Yes,” she said, holding up the tunic against her body as she stood in the full-length mirror that stood in the back corner beside a wooden, frame divider that shielded her washing basin from the rest of the room. “Now, drink it down and hurry. We’re meeting North at the stables for a ride.”

Wren yawned, and drank more of the tea, delighted by how it warmed her from the inside.

She left the comfort of her bed and stretched as she flung her legs over the side. She stepped onto the cold, wooden floor and stood. She was a bit taller than Hazel, and with more curvaceous build compared to her friend’s slim frame.

“Come, put on your clothes and let’s get out of here before you get called away for another mission.”

Pulling her nightgown over her head, she tossed it into the corner for the maids and hurried to step into the leather pants. She tucked them into her riding boots, and pulled on the sage tunic, buckling a belt across the middle.

Her purple hair fell over her shoulders in disarray. She secured it with a clasp to keep it from flying into her eyes once they rode their horses.

She wished North and Hazel had dragons of their own. It would have been much more fun. Nonetheless, it had been awhile since she’d ridden her horse, Tiger, and soon excitement rose within her to give her old friend a visit.

Once she was dressed, and ready, they headed down the stairs. To her surprise, North waited at the bottom, dressed in a dapper waistcoat and riding pants. His curly, auburn hair glistened beneath the sun’s light that reflected through the glass ceiling.

She smiled at him, her cheeks blushing as their eyes met.

“Birthday wishes,” he said, giving her a bow, a single, red rose outstretched to her.

Her smile widened, and she wished it hadn’t. She felt like she looked like a fool when she smiled, and so she quickly tried to suppress it before he stood to his full height and embraced her.

“Thank you,” she said, breathing him in.

It was a shame she couldn’t hold him longer than the brief seconds they had, for her released her from their embrace and promptly kissed Hazel on the lips.

“Morning, darling,” he said, and Wren’s stomach sank.

“Shall we go?” Hazel asked, hands locked with that of her intended husband.

The three had been friends since childhood, residing in the Academy during training season. But, unlike Wren, they went home in the warm months, to the same village. It was only natural that they’d fall in love.

Wren nodded, shoving her unrequited feelings into the deepest pits of her stomach.

“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go.”

9

Wren hardly touched her breakfast of toasted bread with apple butter. She nibbled, but her mind was elsewhere. Whatever had spoken to her as she fell asleep still haunted her thoughts.

The voice was feral, and disembodied. Just thinking of it made her shudder. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t speak of it to North and Hazel, but kept it locked inside.

They left the Academy and retrieved their horses from the stable. The sun now shone from high in the sky, bright and warm against the chill of oncoming winter.

A grin stretched across Wren’s face as she raced with North and Hazel through the open meadow.

Pink and purple flowers stood out from the grass and golden straw. The wind blew through her hair, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, and whistling in her long, pointed ears.

This was perhaps the best way to spend her ascension into womanhood. She’d been the first female and the youngest to be accepted into the Dragon Elite, and now the world was hers.

She was now eighteen years of age—no longer a child—no longer the ward of the Academy.

“Try to keep up,” North said, chuckling.

Wren twisted her mouth as she watched him pull ahead. Astride her horse, Tiger, she knew she’d beat them no matter how hard they rode.

“Aye,” Wren yelled. “You won’t be so cheeky once you’ve reached the gate. She knew he’d be too afraid to urge his horse to jump it. She just hoped he didn’t attempt it and kill himself.

She shook her head. She wouldn’t let him do that. She’d catch him if he fell, that much was for certain.

Hazel emerged beside her. She looked to her left, her hair bouncing around her face as the sun’s light caught the shimmering strands.

Envy bubbled in Wren’s chest.

In a sea of elves, Wren was an anomaly, born a light fairy in a world where most were extinct.

Wren clenched her jaw, and lifted herself from the saddle, leaning forward as she made her move to pass the two riding ahead of her.

She refused to lose to a healer and a scribe.

With a yell of triumph, she dashed past the others. Tiger pounded the ground with his legs and pulled ahead of her friends faster than either of them could truly comprehend what had happened.

No magic.

No tricks.

Just pure training and determination.

Her smile widened and she tossed her head back to let the sun warm her cheeks. She stared at the blue sky as Tiger raced ahead, taking her far away from the Academy.

“Wren,” North shouted from what sounded like yards behind. “Don’t go too far!”

She barely heard him, daydreaming about what it would be like to fly amongst the birds, to stretch her wings and let the wind caress her body.

It was a shame she had been left with nothing but gruesome scars on her back.

A fairy without wings was barely a fairy at all.

Five black dragons darted across the sky in a perfect formation.

Heading to the Whispering Mountain, no doubt. Though, she wondered why she hadn’t been summoned. Perhaps they were giving her a day of freedom and celebration.

Then, perhaps Flint was purposefully keeping her out of Elite dealings.

She closed her eyes with a sigh, and focused on the heat and the thumping of Tiger’s heartbeat between her thighs. It was a different sensation from riding Luna, but if she imagined it was so, she felt as though she was flying.

“Stop Wren!” Hazel’s voice screeched.

She was broken her from her thoughts and returned her full speed to the present.

Her eyes snapped open, and she pulled Tiger’s reigns tight and taut. “Easy now,” she said, her heart racing as she stared ahead at the complete darkness that stretched ahead of her.

“Dear Mother,” Hazel said. “What is that?”

North stared ahead, his cheeks paling.

He looked to Wren, jaw clenched.

“I think its Necro,” he said, in disbelief.

Confused, she beheld the terror that was known as Necro, as North and Hazel came to a stop on either side of her. North edged ahead, as if to shield them from danger. Green eyes flickered a worried glance back at her.

“We have to hurry and tell Master Alistair,” North said, pushing fallen curls from his face as a wind laden with the scent of smoke wafted from the darkness. “Before the barriers are destroyed.”

The lush forest was gone. Every silver birch tree, bush, and flower had been sucked away by the dark force sweeping in from afar. Once the darkness spread, he would appear.

The King King—a force of legend—was here.

Right at their door.

“How is it getting so close?” Hazel asked, her soft voice nearly carried away by the wind that had begun to blow at their faces.

Wren exchanged a glance with North. Terror gripped at her throat as she imagined the death and destruction to come.

“It isn’t supposed to,” North said.

“No,” Wren agreed. “He isn’t supposed to.”

The being—the force—responsible for nearly wiping out her race had returned.

A Titan was in their midst.

10

The fear of what they’d just witnessed drove Wren and the others to racing back to the Academy. They bypassed the other students crowding the halls and gardens to request an audience with the headmaster.

As an Elite, she was allowed straight to his door.

While they waited outside of Master Alistair’s doors, Wren made eye contact with one of the guards. Her brows furrowed as he peered down at her from his helmet, and grimaced.

Was she that awful to look at?

She turned away, facing North, and exhaled. Terror still simmered in her gut, leaving her nauseous. He must have noticed, for he wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her into an embrace.

“It’ll be all right,” he whispered to her, and she breathed him in, praying his words were true.

They both knew what had happened to her people—to the fairies destroyed by Necro. She never truly expected to have to face him again.

No one did.

Hazel placed a hand on her back, and cool healing energy seeped through her shirt and into her flesh.

The doors were opened, and relief flooded Wren along with her friend’s love and healing.

She was lucky to have North and Hazel.

They were all she’d ever had.

“You may enter,” one of the guards said.

Inside Master Alistair’s study was High Cleric Zella. Once they’d opened the door to allow entry, Wren had an uncanny feeling that they’d just walked into a room in which her name had been spoken just moments prior.

As their eyes lingered on her, and barely glanced at North or Hazel, she was almost certain of it. Shelves of rolled parchment and artifacts lined the walls where tapestries were hung, and torches lit the space.

It smelled of juniper berries, and Wren spied a burning candle on the headmaster’s desk that wrapped around the back side of the room. It looked out to the sea that crashed and gleamed along the south of the Academy grounds.

“Why do you all look as if you’ve fallen down into a dark pit filled with snakes?” High Cleric Zella asked, lifting a thin, red brow.

“Necro,” North said, catching his breath. The two elders stared at them with widened eyes. “I think Necro has returned.”

“What did you see?” Zella asked, her voice almost too soft to hear. “Tell us everything.”

“Darkness is stretched from the ground and into the sky, and its moving toward us,” Wren said, exchanging looks with Hazel and North. “We saw it just outside of the wheat fields at the base of Saldoria.”

“We must summon more barriers,” Zella said, her eyes twinkling, and brows furrowing.

Master Alistair nodded, his arms folded across his broad chest. As a descendant of a demi-god, he stood two feet taller than North, who was the tallest of them all, and had a massive frame that made him look more like a giant than an elf. With his muscular build, he could have easily been a warrior, instead of the powerful mage he was.

His black hair was pulled into a tight knot at the top of his head, and narrow, silver eyes glanced into Wren’s before looking out over the balcony. He was master of the Academy, and protector of every student within its gates, but not even he could stop what was determined to come.

“I’ll strengthen the barriers and put up new ones,” he said, and Zella nodded. “I might even need to ask for aid from our ancestors. If Necro has truly returned, we ned to be ready.”

“You three best be on your way,” Master Alistair said. “We will handle things from here.”

Wren and the others nodded, and turned to leave Master Alistair’s study.

“And, don’t worry about Necro,” Zella said. “Rest assured that we will keep it at bay.”

North and Hazel nodded, confident in their elders, but Wren glanced over her shoulder once more. Her face was solemn, as if resolved to their fate, and Zella followed her outside the door.

“Why don’t you two head on back to your rooms?” Zella asked with a kind smile. Despite her smile, Wren knew she hadn’t followed her into the hallway to spread cheer. “I need to speak with Wren.”

“Of course,” Hazel said. “See you at supper.”

Wren waved and they left her alone with the beautiful elf who had been more of a mother to her than a teacher.

Zella had been both, and that was almost saddening—that Wren had only had one person in her entire life to show her love.

Fidgeting with the frayed leather of her tunic’s belt, she looked down at her boots.

“What is it?” Zella asked. “Tell me what troubles you.”

Wren lifted a brow. “Necro, of course,” she said, matter-of-factly.

Zella lifted her chin, forcing her to look into her eyes. “There is something more than that.”

Shrugging, Wren pursed her lips. She couldn’t reveal the turmoil brewing in her heart.

“Very well,” she said. “Run along.”

Run along? You’d think she was a child. Still, Wren kept quiet, and bowed to Zella instead of voicing her retort.

She left the elvish cleric standing there, watching her, as she strode down the hall toward the training grounds.

She coiled the end of her long hair around her finger.

Necro was coming, and the Dragon Elite would be needed more than ever.

The sun shone on her through the wall of open arches and left her skin shimmering like diamonds.

Wren wasn’t one to sit around and wait for someone to save her…she was going to be ready.

11

Ember awakened with tears in his eyes.

Something was wrong. Tension filled his body and left him cold. He sat up, with a start, and shot a look to the door to his private quarters.

He knew she was coming, and he feared why.

A knock came on the door.

With a wave of his hand, he opened the door, and left the comfort of his bed.

He was weary, having had just returned from a pilgrimage to the land of his birth in search for answers.

After all of this time, he still had few that were satisfying.

To his surprise, High Cleric, Fern entered the bedroom, her robes swishing around her feet as she shuffled across the slick floor. She wore a circlet with a stone in the center, and it glowed as she rushed inside.

The room was silent before she stepped in, but the air tightened as she did so.

She rarely left the Keep to venture to the palace, but as she approached, he could tell that something was amiss. Her face was pale, eyes clouded with tears.

She stopped before him, fidgeting her robe’s sleeve.

“High Cleric, Fern,” he said, giving her his full attention. “Is there something wrong?”

She tilted her head, and a tear fell down her cheek. “High Cleric, Laurel is dead,” she said, and he frowned.

“Nonsense.” His voice came out more forcefully than intended, but there was a history there.

Fern shook her head. “It’s true.”

“How?”

Her next word sent a shiver up his body, and for the first time in ages, he felt real fear.

Her brows furrowed. “Necro,” she said. “He’s back.”

His throat went dry, and he found himself swallowing back a lump. “Where?”

“The Vale, your majesty.”

“This cannot be.”

“But, it is,” she said. “They need us. The world needs us to come together, one more time.”

He’d fought in wars against Necro once before, in a time when the Titans roamed the world in hordes.

Ember stood, his heart racing, and outstretched his arms. In a rage of red light and fire, he shifted into that of a creature so beautiful that most couldn’t look directly at him when in this form.

A phoenix.

Golden wings of fire and fury flapped and heat up the entire room as he ascended toward the domed ceiling, and out the cylindrical opening that led to the sky.

If what he had heard was true, there was no time to waste. It was time to summon his sword, and prepare for war.

12

Wren quickly left the Academy, and ran down to the front garden where mages congregated.

Whispers of what was coming filled her ears.

Her hands shook as she outstretched the orb.

“Awaken,” she called, and the dragon presented itself.

There was no time to waste, she mounted, and grabbed the reigns. “To the Whispering Mountain,” she said, and Luna gave a snort before propelling them into the sky.

They left the Academy grounds behind, and flew high above to the clouds. The green rolling hills and lush groves were quickly left behind.

Racing through the sky was exhilarating, but—today—unease bubbled in Wren’s belly every time she glanced to the south where Necro’s dark presence was spreading.

Now, her frightful dreams began to return to her.

Mine, a voice had said, and she shuddered at the memory.

Wind blew at her face and the countryside below raced by in swirls of color.

Luna wasn’t the fastest dragon in the Elite, but she was impeccably fast, crossing the countryside within less than an hour.

Once they reached the Whispering Mountain, Wren leaped from Luna’s back. She landed on the smooth white stone at the top of the mountain.

She pushed her hair from her face as thick fog and cool mist wrapped around her. She could barely see through it as Luna flew off to join the other dragons in the caves of the mountain. She was only a summoning away.

As she headed to the cavern doors that led inside, someone emerged from the fog.

Tall, slender, and armed with a sword, Flint approached.

She corrected her posture and bowed her head.

“I’ve come to offer my assistance, Captain,” she said.

Flint stopped just before her, and tilted her head upward by her chin.

His touch was cold, but tender. Still, it was unwelcome, and she grimaced as their eyes met.

“I do love hearing you call me that,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“I am certain you do,” she said. He was only two years older than her, and had become captain faster than anyone had anticipated.

She could still remember him pulling her hair and tying it into a knot when they were children. She now knew the reason behind his attention.

Flint stepped even closer, nearly bumping into her chest. He was one of the tallest elves she’d ever seen—and most in The Vale were quite tall. With golden hair worn straight down and over his shoulders, and crystalline blue eyes, he was truly a vision, yet Wren would rather push his face into the dirt than kiss him like most of the other girls in the Academy.

She backed away, and he shrugged, rubbing his knuckles across his chin.

Even as she had that thought, her cheeks reddened. Despite her distaste for him…he had been her first and only kiss thus far.

“Very well,” he said. “This way.”

He turned and led her into the cavern.

Inside, thirteen young men turned to stare as she entered. Her cheeks burned as their eyes lingered on her in silence.

They should have been used to her by now. She knew what they said about her when she wasn’t around. She only made it into the Elite by being favored by Zella and Alistair.

Rubbish. No one wanted to admit that she was as good—if not better—than the other recruits. When the time had come for her to pick a dragon’s egg, it had picked her.

Luna had glowed and called to her that fateful night when Wren stood before five dormant eggs on the pedestals of the Whispering Mountain.

No other dragon egg had ever done that.

She sighed and fell into line with the other Elite.

Flint walked up the alley between the two lines, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore a sage cape that was secured by two gold hooks at his shoulders. It billowed as he walked, the wind sweeping in and out from the mouth of the cavern. All eyes went to him, and Wren finally felt as though she could breathe again.

“Necro has appeared,” Flint announced, and there was a collective gust of whispers from the others. “It comes from the south, destroying all life in its path.”

“We feared this was the case,” Grand Master Ronan said, emerging from the back of the hollow room. An elder, with long white hair and thick brows over his sunken indigo eyes, he walked to them with the aid of a walking stick. “Master Alistair and I have heard reports of strange vanishings, decomposing livestock, and famines in the south long before Necro made it known that he was responsible.”

“Has anyone seen him?” Wren asked, and once again, everyone turned to her. Her eyes widened. “Apologies for interrupting, Grand Master.”

“Yes,” he said, his aged voice taking a solemn dip in volume. He reached for something in his cloak’s inner pocket and pulled free a ruby.

A sacred stone.

Wren’s brows furrowed as she stared at it.

“Is that—”

“Yes,” he said. “It is a divination stone.”

Her stomach churned. Those were given to High Clerics and Ocuras when they ascended to elder status. It was usually secured in their circlets, and served as their external life force. The fact that Grand Master Ronan now held one meant that its owner was now dead.

“It belonged to a very special cleric,” he said, and inhaled. “High Cleric, Laurel.”

She covered a gasp with hand clasped over her mouth.

High Cleric, Zella’s sister was dead, and she’d been giving her trouble with her frivolous pride.

She wept inwardly for the beautiful soul Laurel had been.

“As you can see, he is back, and he wants to destroy us all,” Grand Master Ronan said.

“Now,” Flint added. “Who’s with me in sending him back to the Abyss where he belongs?”

Wren punched the air with her fist, joining the men in their shouts of solidarity.

“We will fight,” Flint said, his eyes glowing, jaw clenched. “No matter what horrors he sends our way.”

13

Wind whipped around them as the Dragon Elite summoned their dragons in unison. With their arms outstretched, they stood in a line that faced the cliff of the mountain.

Mist left droplets of dew on Wren’s cheeks, and the cool air gushed upward from the foggy valley below. Foam rose from the depths, and the sound of the crashing waterfall drowned out the roar of the wind.

“Awaken,” they all said, and with glowing palms pointed skyward.

No matter where they were, the dragons felt the call and were returned to their eggs. Within seconds, riders were reunited with their dragons.

Dragons of different color, and size materialized before them, towering over their masters while the mountain whispered and hummed.

Luna appeared, slick with water from the falls, and bowing alongside her brothers and sisters.

“Master,” Luna said, and Wren ran her hand along the top of her head.

Each rider stepped beside their dragon, and leaped onto their backs.

“All right,” Flint said, mounting his white dragon. Ash was the biggest of them all, and wore a silver helmet over his head that showed two red eyes and sharp teeth. “Follow me to the Valley of the Saints, and we’ll ride to Saldoria.”

Wren stayed close to Flint, flying across the bright sky. In the distance, she could see where the darkness of Necro was stretching over the land in the south. It moved slowly, hopefully slow enough for them to figure out how to stop him.

“How long do you think it’ll take for him to reach The Vale?” Wren asked Flint.

He shook his head, following her gaze. “I don’t know. It could be weeks. It could be days.”

“We have to find a way to stop him.”

Flint shot her a glance over his shoulder. “Master Alister and the elders will do what it takes to keep the realm safe. We just need to see if anyone made it out of Necro’s area of effect.”

“The damage zone,” Wren said, her hair wrapping around her face as a wind blew at them. She pushed her hair back, with one hand, the other on the reigns.

“Exactly. It can stretch for miles, sucking the life out of everything it touches,” he said. “Just remember your training once we reach Saldoria, Wren. I can’t have my newest recruit getting herself injured. Or worse.”

“Of course,” she said. “I promise not to get there and make a fool of myself.”

Flint grinned. “That’s what I like to hear. You are a true marvel, Wrennesa Grey.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I do try.”

They flew over forests and rivers, and small villages scattered throughout the countryside. She peered down at several temples set up in the formation of a triangle around The Vale. They were magnificent glass structures that reflected the light of the sun. Set up to signal one another from their tall towers that stretched to the clouds, many mages and monks took up residence there after leaving the Academy.

As they approached Saldoria, the clouds darkened into several levels of rolling puffs of gray and black.

“There,” Flint said, his voice turning grave.

The hairs on Wren’s neck stood on end.

“May the Mother, save us.”

14

Nothing could have prepared the Elite for what they saw. They approached the city walls, and Wren stared in disbelief at the state of Saldoria.

A shiver ran up her spine as she peered down to the shocking scene below.

She’d just been there the night before. Now, it was gone.

Desolation outstretched before them.

Flint led the way, and the other Elite hovered in the air behind him.

There was a great twisting pain in her gut—a sorrow and disbelief—that she saw reflected in the eyes of the others.

“What happened here?” Reed asked. He raked fallen strands of teal hair from his face, revealing a scar that stretched across his cheek.

Flint looked back, and his eyes met Wren’s.

“Behold the wrath of a Titan,” he replied.

Her gaze scanned the ruins of the—once opulent—kingdom, and rested on the southern wall. Two large doors of stone crisscrossed with steel strapping had been blasted apart, leaving only fallen stones and rubble behind.

“Shall we land?” Wren asked, and Flint shook his head.

“No. Necro is still here. He leaves a mist of his essence everywhere he goes,” Flint said. “We should wait a few days to comb through the streets.”

Beck flew downward, peering down from the back of his purple dragon. He looked over his shoulder, amber eyes cast toward Flint. “So, there will be no survivors?”

Flint shook his head. “Unfortunately, no, there will be no survivors.”

The sinking feeling in Wren’s gut only worsened. She had been a survivor. What made her special?

“Scout from the skies,” he ordered. “We will survey the ruins in two days.”

Wren and Reed veered to the right, flying over where the palace had once been. He didn’t speak to her. The others rarely did.

But, they stayed close to one another, cautious of what awaited in those black-covered ruins.

From a safe distance, Wren followed a path of shaded alleyways. Empty shops and cottages stood knocked down to one level, or to the surface of the street.

Then, there were the bodies.

Covered in black ash, hundreds of bodies were scattered through the streets. She imagined those innocent elves racing to safety as Necro stretched across their city.

They hadn’t been fast enough, and Necro showed no mercy.

She glanced to her right and noticed that Reed caught her wiping tears from her eyes.

Instead of chiding her for being a soft, weak girl, he offered a nod of empathy.

“Appalling, isn’t it?”

She exhaled, regaining her composure, and nodded. “How could anyone be so cruel?”

Reed shrugged. “A Titan has no soul,” he said. “No heart.”

“Reed, Wren,” Flint called, sparking their attention. “I saw something down there. Are you up to following me down?”

Wren didn’t hesitate. “I am. I’ve been exposed once before. What didn’t kill me then, shouldn’t kill me now.”

He gave a lopsided grin. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Follow me.”

15

Flint led the way down the eerie roads covered in a thick fog of darkness and gray mist.

Once they landed, their dragons took to the skies, scouting.

“Necro really made a mess of things,” Reed said, shaking his head as he surveyed their surroundings. “These poor souls had no idea what was coming.”

Wren frowned at what she saw. “One day he will be forced to account for his evil deeds.”

“Again,” Flint added. “Don’t forget he’s already been sentenced to judgement once before.”

Her lips pursed as she glanced over at a skeleton that hung inside the stable before her. It was as if the muscle and flesh had been blown or burnt away.

She kept her hand on the hilt of her sword, prepared to draw it if necessary. As she turned to follow Reed and Flint down the roads covered in thick, black soot, the scent of burnt flesh burned her nostrils.

Reed froze, and warnings sparked in her belly.

“Something,” he said, sniffing the air, his eyes turning black as he did so. “Is coming this way.”

“Just perfect,” she grumbled.

Flint folded his arms across his chest. He tilted his head toward the black mass that flew toward them.

“Stay on guard, Elite,” Flint said, stretching his neck.

Wren shielded her eyes against the glow that appeared before them. Within the glow was a figure. She tensed, praying it wasn’t Necro himself.

What emerged from the smoke surprised them all. It wasn’t Necro, but a man.

Wren tilted her head. She’d never seen anyone like him.

The inner glow of his body shone through and emitted a golden fog that encircled him.

Magic sparked around his body as he stepped forward, and drew his sword.

Tall, with dark, red hair, and blue eyes that glowed in the darkness. He was a stark contrast to the fog that rose from the ground. A red cape billowed behind him, secured to his armor. As he seemed to take in his surroundings, his glow began to fade.

Once he noticed them, he pointed his sword at Flint.

“Are you the leader?”

Flint stepped forward, sword ready, energy orb summoned and hovering beside his head.

Wren frowned, and stepped to stand by his side. She wished she could summon an energy orb herself.

“I am,” Flint said. “Who are you?”

“Who I am is of no consequence. But, I will give you a fair warning, friend,” he said, lowering his sword to his side. “Leave this place, and there will be no trouble.”

Wren and the others froze, and exchanged a glance between one another.

“Is he being serious?” Reed asked, brows furrowed.

“Deathly,” the stranger answered.

“Who are you?” Wren asked, and he finally met her gaze.

“Name’s Ember,” he said, and bowed. “My lady.”

Her cheeks burned at his reply, but Flint moved to stand before her, as if shielding her.

“We are the Dragon Elite,” Flint announced. “We’ve been sent from The Vale to survey the damage and look for survivors. You shouldn’t be here.”

Ember raked his hand through his hair, and sighed. His eyes lifted to the sky, and narrowed as if he saw something.

“Better leave now,” he said, holding his sword ready. A loud sound ignited from the blade, and began to emit black smoke.

Wren began to speak when something darted across the sky toward them.

“To the skies,” Flint shouted, and extended his arm to call his dragon.

Wren hurried to summon Luna as the others did the same.

Once their dragons arrived, they each leaped onto their back and took to the sky.

“Fools,” Ember shouted after them.

Wren heard him, and hesitated, hovering in the sky as she peered down at him. Before she could make a decision to follow the others, or go back to the ground, a crackling in the air caught her attention.

Of course, she had to go. She was an Elite, and her commanding officer had given an order. She grabbed the reigns, and darted into the sky to catch up with the others.

Lightning struck, and the dark clouds gathered to smother them in pitch black.

Reed dodged whatever material force appeared before them. Astride his dragon, he backed away, stunned.

Wren drew the dagger from its strap on her leg and leaned her belly onto Luna.

“What was that?” Wren asked, eyes wide as she tried to catch another glimpse of whatever had attacked.

“Something unnatural,” Reed said, searching the skies at her side.

A shadowy figure appeared before them, arms outstretched and black hair whipping around a pale face.

Terror gripped Wren’s gut, and throat, and left her frozen.

She’d never seen anything like it.

A wave of black smoke fluttered through the air, remnants and a hint of a solid figure lost in its dark depths.

The figure was male, with dark, hollow eyes and sharp teeth that were exposed as his lips curled into a grin. Every movement was fluid, as he was encased in the smoke.

“Mine,” he said, and Wren’s blood ran cold.

It couldn’t be.

No.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the face of the eerie being before them.

“Necro,” she said in a breathy voice that was almost too soft to hear.

His laugh filled the entire kingdom, and as he shot toward her, she screamed, and nearly fell off Luna’s back as the dragon bucked and tried to turn around and fly away.

Cold hands wrapped around her throat, and she feared that this was the end.

Her dagger was useless against a Titan.

“Wren,” Reed shouted, and was knocked from his dragon by a shadowy mist that reached out from Necro’s body.

Her scream was caught in her throat, and she tried to wrench free to see if Reed had made it back onto his dragon.

Two more black mist ropes wrapped around her body, lifting her from Luna’s back.

While he held her immobile, she stared into his eyes through tears.

“What do you want with me?” Wren asked, her heart racing. The jewel of secured to her necklace began to glow, and pulsed against her skin.

Tucked beneath her tunic, he never noticed, but the incessant vibration left her unnerved.

Necro leaned closer, until their faces were nearly pressed together.

He smelled of sulfur and ashes, of fire and coal. He didn’t speak, but opened his mouth and began sucking the air between them. As he did so, she realized the air from her lungs was being pulled from her mouth, and she couldn’t breath.

Particles of flesh rose from her face, and she fought to scream. He was sucking away her life force.

He was killing her.

Pain shot through her, filling every vein. His cold fingers around her throat, and tentacles of mist around her body squeezed, relentlessly.

Her eyes began to roll into the back of her head, when someone flicked out a bolt of blue fire magic that shot through Necro’s body and startled him. The sky crackled with thunder and lightning, and the air grew tight around her.

His eyes became more than hollow holes and glowed yellow as he stared at her in what she was certain was shock.

More thunder that boomed in her ears, and her body pulsed with energy so powerful she was certain her bones would split open and break.

His grip on her throat loosened, slightly, and as she began to fade into darkness, someone grabbed her, and yanked her away.

All she knew was that she was flying, fast, and hard, and whoever held her held tightly, and refused to let go.

The bone-chilling roar that filled the air was the last thing she heard as she succumbed to darkness.

16

“Wren,” a voice called.

Wren opened her eyes to a bright light. She was being carried away down a tunnel with walls made of water that reflected her favorite memories.

At the edge of the river was North, fishing and smiling at her as she splashed around in the shallow portion, just off the rocks. They were just children, with bright futures ahead, and nothing but sunny days and cheerful afternoons to pass the time.

She giggled, holding her skirts as he began to sing a song.

Then, she stood with her back against a tree, stunned as Flint stole a kiss. They’d been challenging one another when he grabbed her by the hips, and kissed her for the first time.

She touched her lips, watching as the wind blew at their hair, the sun beaming down on the beauty of young innocence.

She reached out to the images, wishing she could escape this hollowness, and join her past self. There was so much that she would change—so much she wished she could tell herself about the future.

She gasped as her memories melted away, and were replaced with darker images—images that made her stomach churn with dread.

She covered her mouth with her hands as North stood in the temple, marrying Hazel, and how he bounced two adorable babies on his lap during the following winter. The pain of that image stabbed her in the gut.

She wrapped her arms around her body and sucked in a breath. What is this?

Above, there was a beautiful golden phoenix with flames engulfing its regal body. It flew away from her, leaving sparks behind. She watched it fly far away, and began to panic.

Come back!

For some reason, it seemed important, and the further it flew away, the colder and more alone she felt.

“Wren,” the voice called again and she froze. All color drained from her face.

“Luna?”

“Yes,” her dragon said, her voice coming from far away.

She stretched her arms out, stunned by the cold water that funneled around her.

“What is happening?”

“You have to stop now. You’re going too far. Wake up.”

She shook her head, searching for Luna. To her dismay, all she saw were ripples as her body continued to slide down the slippery water funnel.

“Where am I going? I don’t know how to stop.”

“Wake up, Master. Wake up.”

Wren awakened with a gasp. Her throat burned and her entire body ached and screamed with pain. Kneeling beside her was Luna, her bright eyes looking to her with worry.

Relieved, she wrapped her arms around her dragon’s neck and embraced her.

Flint and Reed were at her side, and breathed a breath of relief as she wiped her face of moisture from the mist that rose from the bubbling falls.

They were at the bottom of the mountain, and the other Elite were there as well, standing in the trees, whispering.

“Wren,” Flint said, taking her by the hand. “Thank the Mother you’re all right.”

She leaned back, exhausted, and he held her close.

“What happened?”

Everyone looked down at her.

“We aren’t sure,” Reed said, frowning.

“A phoenix,” Flint said. “Swept in and saved you.”

Her heart soared, and she sat up and stood, searching the skies. The phoenix was real.

17

Dawn crept across the sky as Master Alistair stood before the Council of Elders, his hands clasped before him.

He listened to the clerics of The Vale discussing what to do about Necro. Twelve elders were assembled around the council table, ambivalent to the hot tea served to them, or the fragrant sticky buns piled high on a platter.

No one could eat. No one could sleep.

Worry had settled in long before Wren and the others had come to tell him of his arrival.

He and Necro were old foes, and the darkness and evil within would stop at nothing to get what it had lost.

Wren.

The poor girl had no idea what was coming. It was up to him and the others to protect her.

It had only taken days before foreign diplomats began to arrive, pleading for safety under the Academy’s protection. Kings, nobles, even mages had come to hide from the dark Titan of destruction.

The Academy was massive, but it could only house so many. It was more crowded than it had ever been, with nearly every room occupied with several refugees, as well as the students who called it home during the fall and winter season.

Master Banyan, tall and thin, with thick eyebrows over deep-set blue eyes, stood, and faced Alistair. He lifted a hand over the table, and from it a mist materialized. White smoke began to form a figure that stood from the air, and morphed into a dark silhouette.

Necro.

Two curved horns jutted from his angular head, and narrow slits of eyes that glowed with an orange hue met his.

He stiffened, even as he knew this was just an apparition, and not the Titan himself.

“Everyone in Titania is fearful for their lives,” Banyan said, his voice calm and laden with the wisdom of his many hundreds of years. “However, we have no defenses that can even envision competing with a Titan such as Necro. He will raise the dead, and make armies of them. He will tear down cities and kingdoms. Our magic can hold him back for a time…but, we need a more permanent solution.”

“We need Ember,” Zella said.

“King Ember,” Banyan corrected.

They didn’t just need Ember—they needed every mage and warrior in the realm.

Alistair nodded, and turned to face the open window that let in a cool breeze. “We all knew Necro would return. We should have been prepared for this day.”

“How could we have?” Banyan asked. “He is more powerful than all of us combined. He is more powerful than a god.”

As Alistair peered far into the horizon, he could almost see the darkness stretching over the sky miles and miles away. Banyan was right. Necro was one of the original beings of this world. His children were who they called gods. Now, he’d returned to wipe them all out.

Again.

“What do you propose?”

“You know exactly what we need,” Zella said from her seat at the far end of the rectangular table.

“You’re tiptoeing on dangerous ground, my friend,” Banyan said, and Alistair’s eyes closed as he exhaled.

He knew it. They all did.

But, it was impossible.

“Nothing is impossible,” Zella said, and he winced, knowing she’d just read his thoughts without his permission.

“This is,” he said, spinning around to face them all.

Zella tilted her head, with a sigh. She stood from her seat, and crossed the room to stand before him. She took his hands into hers, and stroked them, sending calming energy into his body.

He resisted the tears that burned his eyes, and stared down, avoiding her concerned gaze.

She spoke softly, so that the others couldn’t hear.

“I know you love her,” she whispered. “But, we cannot shelter her forever—not from her destiny—not from her fate.”

Alistair’s heart crushed at the idea of sending off the one person he’d come to love as his very own daughter—the one girl he’d vowed to protect until his dying breath.

But, he knew Zella to be right. It was time to prepare the girl for her true path.

Zella wiped a fallen tear from his cheek, and he finally lifted his gaze to meet hers.

“She’s ready,” she said, and he nodded.

Wren was their only hope.

“Fine,” he said. “Summon King Ember.”

At that moment, the doors to the balcony burst open. A bright flash of golden light nearly blinded them all.

Master Alister summoned his energy orb, and held his hands outward, prepared to fight against whatever assailant dared to threaten them.

To his surprise, the light began to dim, and the phoenix that stood on the balcony shifted into that of an elf.

“Ember,” Zella said, gasping.

Master Alistair lowered his hands.

“Well,” he said. “Looks like you’re already here.”

Ember stepped in, and nodded. “I am. And, I need to speak with you in private.”

18

Ember waited at the window, overlooking the rolling hills of The Vale, his hands clasped behind his back.

While the other Elders left the room, he picked up one of their sticky buns and ate it in a few bites.

Shame to let them go to waste.

Then, he looked outside to the bright sky.

Necro was still far off. The young girl he’d saved was safe with her people. Still, something nagged at him.

There was something about her that made it impossible to get her out of his mind. It wasn’t just her appearance, for she was a true vision of ethereal beauty—but, her very essence called to him. There was a magnetic pull, even from when his eyes first landed on her.

There had been a look of defiance on her face.

Was she the reason he landed in Saldoria at that time?

He couldn’t be quite sure just yet.

“You’ve come at the perfect time,” Alistair said.

Ember nodded. “I know,” he said, simply.

Alistair was an old friend, and someone who had been there for him when times were tough. He knew Ember wasn’t the best with social interactions; quite abrupt, and abrasive. He also knew that Ember was a good judge of future events.

Visions of war and bloodshed haunted his dreams, and there was no escape.

“You needed me,” he added, glancing at Alistair as he stood by his side.

“We are going to make a stand against Necro, along with the mages, ancestors, and whoever else is able to help us.”

“Of course,” he said. “I will summon my army, and enlist the help of the other kingdoms.”

“Brilliant. We are all in this together.”

Ember lifted a brow. “Are we? I’m certain some of the other elders and kings won’t agree.”

“We have to make them. Necro doesn’t care about any of our previous wars. His war will rage against the whole world, and no one is safe.”

Ember nodded, but his mind was already far ahead of what Alistair spoke of.

“Who is the young female Dragon Elite?” Ember asked.

Alistair’s brows furrowed, and Ember noticed.

Interesting.

“Her name is Wren.”

Wren.

Fitting.

“What of her?” Alistair asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Is she important to you?” Ember asked.

“She is. She is my ward.”

“Ah, I see. Well, she was attacked by Necro’s spirit form.”

“What?” Alistair’s face paled.

He must truly care for the girl.

“Yes. But, I saved her,” Ember said. “Those poor lads who make up your Elite were quite flustered when it all happened. Perhaps I was meant to be there at that time.”

Alistair put his hands on Ember’s shoulders, relief washing over her face.

“Thank the Mother,” he said, exhaling.

“But, there is more to her,” Ember said, meeting Alistair’s eyes. “Something you aren’t telling me.”

Alistair searched his eyes, and gave his shoulders a squeeze. He stepped away, and cleared his throat.

“She’s special. I am not surprised that you noticed. It’s quite hard not to.”

Ember followed him, not prepared to leave without an answer. Something about the energy surrounding Wren seemed important.

Life-changing.

“She should be dead,” Ember added, testing Alistair.

When his old friend turned to him, they shared a look of knowing. With a sigh, he nodded.

“You just want to hear me say it, don’t you?”

A smile crept across Ember’s lips. “You know me well.”

19

Wren was in deep concentration when Flint entered the training grounds for the Dragon Elite.

It had been days since the events in Saldoria, and Wren had decided to train everyday, in preparation for the next attack.

Necro wanted her. She just wasn’t sure why.

Focused on the target, she steadied her breathing and relaxed her shoulders.

Of course, he’d come to watch her just as the blazing sun interfered with her view of the target. She could feel his eyes on her, judging, and sense his presence not more than a few feet away. His aura overlapped with hers, and for a moment, she was distracted, more concerned with the heat radiating from Flint’s body and the scent of pine on his jerkin.

She closed her eyes, and shifted her thoughts from the elf at her side, and envisioned the red target. Everything stilled, and silence filled her mind.

The feel of her breaths as they exited her nostrils, and the rising and falling of her chest helped her center herself.

When she opened her eyes, her jaw tightened. She took a deep breath and released the bow. The arrow sped through the air, slicing a path, and slamming into the target, dead in the center.

“Well done, Wren,” Flint said, putting hand on her shoulder. “Very good.”

She turned around and eyed his hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Captain.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that when its just you and I, Wren,” he said, smiling.

Tilting her head, she pursed her lips. “And, why is that? I’m not special? I want to be treated like everyone else, Captain.”

“Very well. I’d like to ask you something,” he said, removing his hand from her shoulder. He clasped them behind his back, and peered down at her through golden lashes.

For a moment, her eyes lingered on his lips, and her brows furrowed.

She’d never noticed before, but they looked soft, and inviting.

Appalled by her thoughts, her eyes widened and she swallowed, looking away from Flint’s face. Flushed, she hoped he hadn’t noticed what she’d been thinking.

He led her down the dirt path to one of the tents. His expression had turned serious when they entered the large tent.

“Leave us,” he said, waving a hand to the men inside.

With a bow, they left, letting the drape of the tent hang closed behind them.

He sat in one of the chairs and motioned for her to do the same.

Wren sat across from him and poured herself a cup of water from the pitcher between them.

As she sipped, she waited for him to reveal why he’d brought her there.

Flint was silent a moment as he just looked over Wren’s face.

She wished he’d stop, and just get on with it. Somehow, his gaze now left her on edge—uncomfortable in her seat. It wasn’t like the looks she got from the guards sometimes. It was a new sensation—an anxiety that made her self-conscious and worried about her appearance.

She’d never cared what Flint thought before. Why should she care now?

“You’ve proven yourself to be a worthy member of the Elite,” he said, and Wren’s shoulders relaxed.

Good.

It wasn’t something negative, as she’d worried.

“With Necro fast approaching, Master Alistair has asked for me and my pick of a few riders to join during the journey to Solaris. Apparently, the king of Athernia is here.”

She nodded, urging him to continue. That was her homeland. How could he not choose her?

“I’d like to ask you to come along,” he said, and gauged her reaction.

Her brows lifted and she edged closer on her seat. “Truly?”

“Yes,” he said. “I am bringing Reed, and you along.”

Wren couldn’t help the grin that came to her face.

“Yes. I will do it.”

Chuckling, he shuffled a few papers on his desk and stacked them to the side.

“It wasn’t really a request, but I am pleased you’re willing.”

With a nervous laugh, she tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow,” he said. “We will meet the king at dinner at the Academy this evening.”

Her grin widened. “Brilliant.”

20

The next day, Wren awakened and went about preparing for the journey.

Master Alistair and the other elders kept Necro at bay, and strengthened their barriers and defenses during the night.

For now, The Vale was safe.

It seemed he would not be getting into their land so easily, but calls for fighters and mages had been sent forth across the realm.

The Academy was already awake and alert at early dawn.

Wren left her quarters, and emerged to stares and whispers from the other students. They stepped out of her path, and paled at her returned gaze.

Confused, she frowned, unsure of why their eyes followed her.

Her supple leather boots whispered against the polished marble floor.

“Wren,” someone called, and broke her from her thoughts as she walked down the crowded corridor.

Hazel linked arms with her and leaned her head against her shoulder as they headed toward the terrarium.

“I hear you were chosen to join the king of Athenia on his journey to Solaris?” Hazel asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for this mission my entire life.”

“Ah, you have,” Hazel, agreed. “But, please promise me you will keep your head, and be very careful. I can’t lose my best friend.”

Wren nodded, a smile coming to her lips. “I promise,” she said. “And, you be good to North while I’m away.”

“You know he holds my heart,” she said.

“Good,” Wren said, breathing in.

“I caught a glimpse of the king today,” Hazel said, as they crossed the wide bridge that connected one end of the building to the circular center.

Wren glanced at her. “What was he like?”

“Bloody stunning,” Hazel said.

She put a hand on hers, but didn’t chide her for being enthusiastic about a king who had been so reclusive that no one had seen him for years. It was said that his gift for prophecy left him frail and nearly mad.

“And, that’s not all,” she said.

“What else?”

“He isn’t married.”

“Why should we care?” Wren asked, frowning.

Hazel threw her hands up. “Oh, let me think…only that every female mage in the Academy will be vying for his attention at the feast tonight. He isn’t betrothed, had never been married, and will be expected to produce an heir one day. Come now, doesn’t that sound exciting?”

Wren shrugged, brows furrowed.

Not really.

Still, she didn’t voice her pessimism. There was still much to do to prepare for her journey—her journey home.

21

Wren had seen blue-covered carriages on her way into the Academy. She’d spent the day training, and riding Luna around The Vale.

The crest of a shield and sword embroidered on their banners signified one thing.

The Athenians were here.

Once she reached her room, she closed the door and ripped her soiled tunic off, tossing it to the floor.

Meda and Leesa—the maids for the girls on the entire floor—hurried over. Meda snatched her tunic from the floor and left to wash it while Leesa worked at undoing Wren’s raggedy braid.

She slipped off her pants and undergarments, chewing the inside of her bottom lip as she imagined why the king of had traveled all of this way to visit their Academy. They had never visited before. On edge, she imagined they carried swords hidden in their cloaks, ready to strike once everyone was at ease. With that in mind, she hurried to return to the hall—ready to protect those who had shunned her all of her life.

Two more maids walked in shortly after, carrying buckets of hot water for her bath. They hustled, pouring in scented oils and concoctions that caused foam to rise above the steaming, hot water.

“A bit fancy,” Wren said, breathing in the scent of the bath. “Don’t you think?”

“Hurry,” Meda said, ushering her toward the claw-foot tub in the adjoining washroom she shared with three other girls.

It stood behind a folding wall, and though she wanted to take her time and enjoy her last night in the Academy, she did crave a hot bath.

Stepping inside, the dirt on her body began to wash off, staining the white foam and bubbles.

After bathing, Wren dressed in an evergreen gown and golden slippers. She left the safety of her room to head down the winding staircase that led to the Great Hall. Her footsteps were loud in her ears as she clumped down to the main floor, wishing she’d had the courage to wear her pants and tunic instead.

But, for once, she would honor decorum and dress accordingly for the feast.

The king of Athenia had come to their aid, and summoned his armies. He at least deserved her respect.

Everyone was inside the hall, and for a moment, she stood at the bottom of the stairs, enjoying the quiet solitude. She knew that once she stepped through the white archway and into the celebration, she’d not find peace again until the party ended.

With a deep sigh, she crossed the landing and headed toward the arches. Torches and chandeliers lit the room, where all of the students of the Academy prepared to feast and welcome the Athenian king.

When her eyes lifted to those of the Athenian party, she paused and stood in the center of the room.

They were as exotic as she’d imagined, dressed in ancient garbs lined with gold, and with golden circlets around their long, dark hair.

She wished she’d stayed in her room and waited out the entire event.

She chewed her bottom lip.

She met with North and Hazel, and sat between Hazel and North at the dining table. King Ember joined the elders on their platform that faced the rest of the hall.

“See? The king is handsome,” Hazel said, with a grin, nudging Wren in her side. “Isn’t he?”

Wren tilted her head as she looked at him. There was something magnetic about him—something that made her heart race and belly flutter. She barely touched her food, casting glances his way that were returned with a slight smile.

“He is watching you,” Hazel added.

“He’s fine, if you like pretty elf men,” Wren said with a grimace.

North burst out laughing, nearly choking on his wine. He coughed and wiped his mouth. “Not even a king can turn Wren’s head, it seems,” he said.

She shrugged, and took a bite of her roasted carrots and smashed potatoes. As she chewed, she noticed Zella and Master Alistair stand and leave their table, and head her way.

“Come,” Master Alistair said, breaking her from her thoughts. “King Ember would like to meet you.”

Ember?

The name was familiar.

Wren didn’t move. Instead, she turned her confused gaze to her headmaster, lips parted as she held her breath.

“Me?” Wren asked, pointing to herself.

There was a hush in the room, and she realized everyone stared at her yet again.

“Yes, Wrenessa Grey,” he said, holding his hand out for hers.

She swallowed, and willed her feet forward. She walked down the stone floor as if in a haze, unsure what she was getting herself into, and fearful of the worst. Once she reached Master Alistair and the king, her heart was thumping in her chest so loudly that she was certain the two men before her heard every beat.

Once she reached them, she accepted Master Alistair’s hand, and he gave it a pat, turning her to face the king.

“Honored guest, King Ember of Athenia, meet Wrenessa Grey.”

Oh.

Her brow lifted as she searched his familiar face. It was the elf they’d encountered in Saldoria.

King Ember smiled at her, and to her surprise, it was kind, and genuine, reaching the creases around his eyes. His eyes were a bright green that nearly hypnotized her. She had to blink to break their gaze.

Red hair styled much differently from anyone she’d seen in The Vale, he was an odd kind of handsome, something she never expected to think about the king of a faraway land.

“Hello, Wrenessa,” he said, bowing his head to her. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

She was speechless, utterly baffled that he’d said such a thing to a girl such as her. A fairy without wings. Someone torn and tarnished.

She forced a smile—a wary one—and did the best curtsy she could muster.

“A pleasure,” she said, softening her voice. “Now, if that is all, I must be going.” Then, she turned to walk away, and Master Alistair tightened his grip on her hand.

“Not so fast, dear girl,” he said, laughing a bit nervously.

She shot a look at him, and then down to her hand which he held captive. “What are you doing?” She yanked her hand away, and frowned at him.

“The king has requested you for a reason, Wrenessa,” he said, growing serious.

She met Ember’s gaze, and heat filled her belly. It was as if he had the power to heat her with just his eyes, and leave her flustered without a word.

Zella joined them, locking arms with Wren. She flashed a bright smile to the men. “Ah, it seems you’ve began the discussion without me,” she said, and Wren’s blood ran cold.

“What is going on?” Wren asked, suddenly feeling as if this meeting had been planned, and nervous that they’d been discussing her behind her back.

Master Alistair shook his head. “All will be revealed,” he said.

“Why keep the girl in suspense?” King Ember said. “Let me tell her now.”

Zella stepped forward. “Now, now, I will be the one to tell her.”

Wren frowned. “Someone should.”

“Not to worry, Wrenessa,” King Ember said. “It is time.”

22

“This way,” Zella said. “I was going to wait until after the feast, but that was silly of me. You’re an impatient one.”

“And, she deserves to know the truth,” King Ember added.

Wren grinned back at him. She was beginning to like him already.

Zella led her outside into one of the sitting rooms. Master Alistair and King Ember joined. While the chatter of the Great Hall continued, she closed the door.

“What is going on? I would really like to hear the truth. For once.”

“I think she’s ready,” Zella said to Master Alistair.

“Are you certain?” he said, turning his back to Wren.

Wren placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “I am standing right here,” she said, her eyes widening. “What is it you’re hiding from me?”

Zella and Master Alistair both turned to her, lips pursed.

“Such suspense,” King Ember mumbled.

Master Alistair breathed in, and motioned for her to sit down. He took a seat in his chair and Zella did the same, sliding onto a long sofa that was pressed against the wall.

Annoyed, and impatient, Wren slumped into the seat and tapped her nails along the arms of the chair. “Fine, but please, no more stalling.”

“Why do you think King Ember wants you to go to Solaris?” Zella asked, her eyes narrowing.

Shrugging, Wren shook her head. “I didn’t know he did. Flint said he had the choice to bring two Elite.”

“Tell her,” Master Alistair said, sighing.

Zella straightened herself, and folded her hands across her lap.

“You are more than you ever thought,” Zella said. “You are of immortal blood.”

Wren shot from her seat. “What?”

Zella stood, and held her hands out. “Relax, dear Wren. There is no need to get upset.”

“Explain to me what you mean,” Wren replied.

Zella took her hands into hers, instantly calming her. She made sure Wren looked her in the eyes before continuing.

“Listen to me very carefully, Wren,” she said, her voice softening.

Wren flinched, but remained frozen. She could tell from the way her hands began to heat that Zella was using magic on her—magic to keep her calm.

“You are more than our ward,” she said, and her voice echoed within Wren’s head. “When Master Alistair found you nearly dead in the dirt, burned and mutilated, he healed you and brought you to The Vale.”

Master Alistair?

She couldn’t move, but her eyes glided to the left to give him a sidelong glance.

He saved me?

“You were just a toddler, barely older than two when he took you in and handed you over to me for looking after. We worked as a team to hide your identity and to keep you safe. Our goal was to give you a good, normal life without suffering.”

“Without fear,” Master Alistair added, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wren’s heart wept as faint memories returned to her in that moment—memories of fire, and pain, and absolute terror.

She would have fallen to her knees if it hadn’t been for Zella’s magic. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, willing them away.

A gush of relief washed away the tormenting sorrow as quickly as it flooded her, and she was grateful to have Zella’s kind touch and healing powers.

“You are more than a fairy—and greater than any who has lived in this realm for the last thousand years,” Zella said.

“Wars were fought over you,” Master Alistair said, and a tear slipped from Zella’s eye and down her cheek.

Wren watched it roll off her chin, and flickered a tearful gaze of her own back to her surrogate mother’s eyes.

“What am I?” Wren asked, almost too afraid to know the answer.

That unnerving silence stretched between them once more. It was as if they were too afraid to say it—too worried someone might hear and spread the truth.

Zella stroked the top of Wren’s hands with her thumbs, and Master Alistair exhaled.

“You aren’t a fairy at all,” Master Alistair said.

Zella pulled her into a warm embrace, steadying her as she heard the next words.

“You are a Titan.”

Thanks for reading Quest for Dragon’s Fire. I hope you enjoyed it. Please consider leaving a review if you did!

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A Look at The Blood Lottery

Whispers. Beckoning. The trees in the distance rustled as if in greeting, urging me to take the leap, and shed my dismal life.

If only I had the courage.

I scraped caked-in blood from my ragged fingertips. Me and the other workers had toiled for hours while the cold wind blew at our backs.

As I stood at the top of The Wall, overlooking what was left of the Old World, I coughed and rubbed at my frozen nose. Wetness smeared on my knuckles, only making me colder.

From this high up, the quiet and peace was worth every frozen finger and toe. For a moment, I pretended to be free, picturing myself at the helm of a ship as it sailed across the Karcadian Sea.

Veruth was the largest kingdom on the Aranthian continent, but none of us would know it. We’d never been outside of those walls.

“See anything, Ava?” Ford asked, breaking me from my thoughts. He called up from the platform just below mine. “Any monsters? Anything at all?”

I glanced down at him, his murky, brown eyes hooded by thick black hair that constantly whipped into his face as the Northern winds continued their assault.

Taking another look, I wished I had seen something. Was the mysterious Dark out there, floating around and breeding new terrors like the elves and our ancestors said?

So far, I’d never seen it. Some wondered if it even existed. Centuries had passed since it had shown itself. No luck catching a glimpse today. But, to the east, over the city, I did see the magical Sky Keep where the elvish monks lived. Though faint, I could see wyverns flying above it, weaving in and out of the thick clouds.

I’d give anything to go there one day, even if just for a moment.

I shook my head. “Nothing,” I said, glancing back up as I held onto the black pole at the top of the stone structure meant to protect us from the creatures across the wall.

The unnerving silence on the other side always captivated me since I’d taken this job. While we were slaves within the walls, there was such eerie beauty in the wilderness. As I gazed into the horizon, mountains emerged from the thick green of the forest, and the sea stretched all across the east.

This was just my first week helping tar and stack heavy stones onto the top. For years, the humans had made the wall taller and more fortified, and each year we began to wonder whether it was meant to keep something out…or to keep us in.

I already knew the answer to that question, but we worked nonetheless, feigning ignorance and convincing ourselves that the sun elves who had invaded our land had our safety in mind.

“Oy,” a loud shout came from far to the right.

I shuddered, turning to meet the hawk-like glare of Hyatt, the task master. Silvery-white hair whipped around my face as our gazes met.

His pointed ears were red from the cold, yet the cruelty in his glowing amber eyes betrayed nothing of his discomfort.

I dreaded the lashing of his long, enchanted whip, lip trembling as I eyed it, waiting for it to snap out and slash my face or back open.

Damned sun elf. It was as if our peace only angered them even though we did the menial work that built the city. Nonetheless, we kept our heads down, executed our tasks, and sealed our mouths closed.

“Get back to work,” he ordered, and everyone turned their attention to their respective jobs pulling stones up from the ground.

There were hundreds on the wall, old and young, children, and the outcast class of gnomes. No matter where we came from, we were all slaves.

Quickly ducking down, I accepted the next block of stone and used all of my strength to slide it to the top of the wall. As I leaned down and got the next one, a wyvern swept in, stunning me. Black wings blotted out the faint light of the sun, silver claws glistening.

Instead of flying away, it lunged into my face, knocking me from the safety of my spot on the platform.

I screamed. Though I tried to catch myself, another gust of wind blew at me and my descent into the foggy abyss began.

Ford reached for me.

He missed, his hand sliding up my arm and catching nothing but air.

My scream caught in my throat as I realized I was falling to my inevitable death. The Wall was hundreds of feet tall, so tall that most days the clouds met us halfway, leaving mist on our faces.

No matter how much I flailed, the fall continued to pick up speed. A cry of pain ripped from my lips as something wrapped itself around my ankle.

I slammed into the side of the wall, foot, ankle, and leg burning with pain—pain that was nothing compared to the cracking of my skull against the stone.

I heard them screaming my name.

Yet, the darkness called it the loudest.

A Look at Throne of Deceit

The sound of hooves thundering down the main road rang in Elise’s ears.

She jumped up from her spot on the ground. A summer breeze wafted through, sweeping ebony hair around her face as she peered downward.

Sure enough, it was an armored messenger, astride a horse, with a red banner in his hand.

Elise raced through the garden to the road at the outskirts of the grounds of Devynshire Castle.

Bright sunlight cascaded through the trees, highlighting every ebony wave as she bounded down the grassy, poppy-littered hill.

“Elise,” Lady Devyn, shouted after her, shielding her eyes from her spot on the blanket sprawled across the grass. “Where are you going?”

“The messenger!” Elise shouted to her mother. “He’s here.”

As she glanced over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of her mother’s smirk as she waved her on.

At eighteen, this would be her last year of seclusion from the world.

Today, she just wanted to be a young lady, fuss over what elaborate gown she would wear, and try her charms on handsome suitors from all over the realm.

Despite the fact that several eligible young men would be in attendance, her sights were set on only one—one very special prince.

Practically giddy, she grinned to herself. To think, she might have her choice of husband in just a few short days.

A giggle escaped her lips as she skidded to a stop, right before the messenger who leaped from his horse and gave her a bow with his head.

“Good day, Harry,” Elise said with a slight curtsy.

Harry cleared his throat. “Good day to you, my lady.”

“Do you have something for me?” Elise’s eyes peered at his brown satchel, hoping to catch a letter or parcel with the crest of the kingdom of Arundell on it.

“Hmmm,” Harry said, rummaging through his bag. “I don’t believe I saw anything for you today.”

Shoulders slumping, Elise sucked her teeth. “Nonsense. You wouldn’t be here without a message,” she said, leaving the plush grass to stand on the hard-packed dirt road that led through the forest and to town.

“Aye, I have a message for your mother,” he said.

“It can’t be!” Forgetting decorum, she stood right before Harry and dug her hands into the bag.

Instead of scolding her, he chuckled. “All right! All right,” he said and pulled out a cream-colored envelope with the Arundell seal of a golden lion.

“You scoundrel!”

Elise took the envelope, a smile spreading from ear-to-ear. He handed her another letter, and with a giggle, she ran back toward the castle.

“You’re welcome,” Harry shouted after her with a laugh.

Looking over her shoulder, Elise shouted back. “Thank you!” She gathered her skirts in her hand and quickened her speed.

Smiling, her mother sat on her knees and ushered her back to their picnic.

“What is it, dear?”

Elise grinned, plopping back down onto their blanket and handing her mother the letters—one from Arundell, and another from the palace in Perth.

She picked up Princess Polly, her pet pig, and held her in her arms as she watched her mother open the letters.

Her grandmother Inora emerged from the castle to join their picnic.

“Morning, Grandmama,” Elise said, and she nodded to her.

“Good morning,” Inora replied. “What is all of the fuss about? Another cut in the household budget?”

Inora stood, towering over them, her hands clasped before her gray gown.

Her auburn hair was worn in a bun with a black veil secured to it.

“Just the best news ever,” Elise said as her mother held the seal up for Inora to see.

“Prince Tolwin will be in attendance,” she said, and gave Elise a wink.

Inora eyed the letter and nodded, though her mouth remained in a single line. “Is this what you truly want? A match with Prince Tolwin?”

“What kind of question is that?” Elise asked. “Of course, I do. He’d be a perfect match. Not only is he the crown prince of an empire, but he is closer to my age than most of the suitors I would consider.”

“She is the king’s only daughter,” Mother said, lowering the letter. “It could unite the kingdoms.”

Inora snorted, and lowered herself to sit with them. “That would be true if King Caden were a rational man, Seyena. Alas, he is not, and chances are that he will keep Elise imprisoned in this place until her death.”

Shoulders slumping, Elise and her mother shared a look of worry. She’d only ever heard stories of her father. How when he came to see her as a baby, he didn’t hug, kiss, or hold her. It was said that he looked at Elise as if she were a monster. Perhaps that was why he kept her prisoner in her home.

“Let’s pray that isn’t true,” Seyena said.

“Didn’t Prince Tolwin just run off to fight in the Tidelands?” Inora asked.

“What does that matter? It is the duty of a prince to act in service for his kingdom,” Elise pointed out as she kissed Princess Polly’s snout. She fed the pig a strawberry, and then popped one into her own mouth.

“It is also the duty of a prince to marry whomever his father chooses. Do you think the king would choose a bastard for his son?”

That stung. All traces of a smile faded from Elise’s face. She stood and frowned down at her grandmother.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the letter, as tears stung the backs of her eyes. “For reminding me what I am; a bastard—someone not worth loving.”

She turned to head toward the forest where her favorite place of solitude awaited. The Crystal River ran through the Hempstead countryside and all the way to Perth. It was the only place she felt safe, or at home, despite the stone walls that made up the castle she had been forced to live in since she was born.

“Elise,” Inora called after her. “That is not what I am reminding you of, dear. It couldn’t be further from the truth. You are loved, and you are more than a bastard. More than anything you have ever dreamed. When you see that, you will know the truth of your fate.”

Ignoring her, Elise trudged away from the castle and to the grove where the falls frothed and pooled and glistened beneath what trails of sunlight shone through the ancient trees.

Didn’t Inora understand that marriage was the only way she’d be free to truly live? She had to know that Elise craved a life of her own.

Her father would never let her leave Devynshire Castle, unless it was by being bound to a man of great standing—one he could use as an ally. Of course, that wasn’t all she wanted out of life. But, Tolwin was the best option. He hadn’t been promised to any of the other eligible princesses in the realm, or anyone of great standing.

She was the natural choice.

Dark stones lined the river, and piled onto one another just before the white falls. She sat on the cool rocks with a sigh and kissed Princess Polly on the top of her fuzzy spotted, pink head. She brushed her hair back over her shoulder, and opened the letter.

Just the fact that the prince had agreed to come to her coming-out ball was a sign that things might be changing.

Princess Polly snorted and Elise smiled down at her despite the tears on her cheeks.

She brought the letter to her nose and sniffed the parchment, hoping for a brief whiff of his scent. There wasn’t any. His father had probably signed the letter.

Once she’d read it through, she placed it onto the water and watched it float down the river.

She rested her cheek on her bare knees and followed it as it curved and vanished around the bend.

The sound of the forest sang to her, and as she hugged Princess Polly close to her chest, she prayed for an escape from her life in exile.

About the Author

K.N. Lee is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who resides in Charlotte, North Carolina. When she is not writing twisted tales, fantasy novels, and dark poetry, she does a great deal of traveling and promotes other authors. Wannabe rockstar, foreign language enthusiast, and anime geek, K.N. Lee also enjoys helping others reach their writing and publishing goals. She is a winner of the Elevate Lifestyle Top 30 Under 30 "Future Leaders of Charlotte" award.

She is signed with Dragon Roots Emporium and Captive Quill Press.

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Also by K.N. Lee

The Wicked Crown:

Throne of Deceit

Throne of Malice

Throne of Peril

Throne of Envy

Dawn of the Seraphim:

The Blood Lottery

The Fallen Wall

The Ashen City

The Dragon Born Saga:

Half-Blood Dragon

Magic-Born Dragon

Queen of the Dragons

War of the Dragons

Fate of the Dragons

Curse of the Dragons

Wrath of the Dragons

The Chronicles of Koa Series:

Netherworld

Dark Prophet

Blood Princess

Crimson King

The Eura Chronicles:

Rise of the Flame

Night of the Storm

Dawn of the Forgotten

Prophecy of the Seer (Coming Soon)

Empire of Dragons Chronicles:

Fallen Empire

Reign of Magic

Fire and Fury

Realms of Ruin

Guardians of the Five Worlds:

Fate of the Goddess

Fall of the Gods