Chapter 75 Dragons Are Real
Ryven
I sent Helga and Jehan back to the new settlement as the sun began to set. “I need you to help Aldo secure the perimeter,” I told them. “And Helga—keep an eye on Rowenna. Do no leave her alone. If Magnus decides to make an unexpected visit, I want to know the moment he arrives.”
Helga gave a sharp nod, her eyes promising she’d miss nothing. Jehan clapped my shoulder once before they touched their orbs and vanished.
I trusted them. They knew what was at stake.
Once they were gone, I climbed high into the branches of an ancient oak, settling into a fork where the leaves would hide me. I had crushed wild fruit across my skin and clothes earlier, the sticky pulp strong enough to mask my scent from anything tracking by nose. And I had been right to prepare.
From the dense forest that should have been nothing but open clearing, a black wolf emerged. Massive, silent, its coat drinking in the last light of the sun. It paused, nostrils flaring as it tested the air, following the fading trail Helga and Jehan had left. After a moment it loped forward and vanished into the thick undergrowth. My eyes tracked the movement of the foliage, but suddenly the wolf was simply gone—no sound, no disturbance, nothing.
I waited. Minutes stretched. Then, impossibly, the wolf reappeared in the dense forest it had emerged from. It hadn’t run through the trees; it just appeared. I scratched the back of my neck, frustration rising. An animal using magic. I had never seen or read of such a thing. All the references I needed—bestiaries, treatises on arcane fauna—were locked away in the Academy library. I could return for them, but my old teachers would demand answers I wasn’t ready to give.
Night fell hard, bringing cold rain with it. I wove a quick roof of broad leaves and flexible branches above my perch, anchoring it with threads of air magic. It wasn’t perfect, but it kept the worst of the downpour off me while I kept watch.
Then I heard voices.
They drifted through the rain—low, urgent, one male and one female. I peered between the leaves but saw nothing. The storm swallowed too much. I reached into my satchel and pulled out the small bone ear trumpet I’d enchanted years ago. Pressing the narrow end to my ear, I fed a steady trickle of magic into it, trying to cut through the noise.
It helped, but only a little. The rain still muffled the words into fragments: “…crescent-shaped bend…” and “…blink…” Nothing clear enough to be useful.
And then the unexpected happened.
From the center of the illusory forest, a dragon emerged.
It was enormous. Scales the color of midnight. Wings half-furled, it moved with predatory grace, muscles shifting beneath armored hide. Its eyes burned like living embers. I rubbed my eyes hard, certain exhaustion was playing tricks on me, but the beast remained. Solid. Real. Breathing steam into the cold air.
A dragon. Here. Now.
“First a firestarter…” I whispered hoarsely. “Now this?”
Dragons were supposed to be extinct—myths from the old wars, wiped out centuries ago. Stories told to children and scholars who had nothing better to chase.
But I was looking at one. With my own two eyes.
The creature lifted its head, and for a moment, I felt something press against my chest—an invisible weight, heavy and suffocating.
Magic. Strong magic. Ancient.
It shifted, muscles coiling. Then it launched.
Its wings snapped open with a force that sent wind tearing through the forest, scattering leaves and rain in every direction. The ground below trembled as it pushed off, rising into the sky with terrifying grace.
And as it did, the forest changed. The thick, unnatural trees shimmered and vanished. Gone. Like they had never been there at all. In their place, a clearing.
Open. Bare. Real.
I stared at the dragon's form as it disappeared in the storm above, my mind struggling to catch up.
The magic was immense—strong enough to hide an entire landscape and bend it at will. Beings like this weren’t just difficult to kill. They were nearly impossible to conquer.
Magnus needed to know.
I gave a soft caw. My raven appeared moments later, shaking rain from its feathers as it landed on a nearby branch.
I pulled a small strip of parchment from my satchel and scribbled quickly, the ink smudging slightly from the rain.
Dragon sighted. Strong magic.
I rolled the note and slipped it into the small capsule, fastening it securely to the raven’s leg.
“Straight to Magnus.”
I dropped from the tree, landing in mud, knees absorbing the impact. I walked toward the center of the clearing and there it was—impossible, undeniable: a massive footprint pressed deep into the ground, easily the size of a wagon. Three-toed, clawed, with ridges that spoke of ancient power. I crouched beside it, tracing the edge with my fingers. The soil was still warm in places, as if the creature's heat lingered even after it had vanished into the sky.
Then a strange coldness slid into my chest, spreading outward like icy fingers curling around my ribs.
"What the—"
"They are flying to the other side of that ridge", a woman’s voice said clearly inside my mind.
"To the other side?"
"Make haste"the voice continued, unbothered. “Follow them there.”
I pressed a hand to my temple. Some lingering spirit had just slipped into my body like it was an empty cloak. “Oh, that’s just perfect. First wolves that vanish, then dragons, and now—what? A ghost?"
“This is only temporary.”
“Reassuring,” I grunted.
“When I find a suitable vessel, I will leave you.”
“Get out of my head,” I muttered under my breath.
A faint, dry chuckle echoed in my thoughts. "Patience, Ryven. I have no desire to remain in someone as stubborn as you.
"How do you know my name?" I asked.
No answer.
Just that lingering cold, coiled somewhere inside me.
I dragged a hand down my face, smearing rain and fruit and frustration together.
“…I should’ve stayed at the Academy.”
I didn’t know what waited on the other side of that ridge.
Only that a dragon did.
And I had no intention of becoming roasted meat just because a voice in my head thought it was a good idea.
The ridge loomed ahead, jagged and unforgiving, its dark spine cutting into the storm-heavy sky. Rain lashed against the rock face, turning every foothold into a gamble, every ledge into a lie. Water streamed down in thin, treacherous sheets, pooling in the cracks, slicking the stone to a deadly sheen.
One wrong step—and I wouldn’t just fall.
I’d disappear.
Broken on the rocks below, another nameless corpse the forest would swallow without a trace.
“You are wasting time,” the voice murmured, cool and unimpressed inside my head.
“I’m preserving my life,” I muttered under my breath. “You should try valuing that a little more, considering you’re currently borrowing it.”
A faint, amused hum echoed in my thoughts—but no argument followed.
I decided it would be better to find a map with a clear layout of the ridge. Only then could I use the travel orb to get there without risking a bad landing.
I pulled the orb from my under my cloak and pressed my thumb against it.
The ridge disappeared. The rain, the rock, the cold—gone in an instant.
The settlement replaced it.
The air was warmer. Torches burned steadily along the paths. A few guards were still awake, moving between posts. The place was quiet, but not asleep.
I didn’t stop.
I went straight to Aldo’s hut and pushed the door open.
He was inside, exactly where I expected him to be—standing over a table covered in maps, marking something with a pen.
He didn’t look up right away.
“Have you found the girl?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “But I’m close. I need a map of the ridge—back end of Aetheria, opposite the docks.”
That made him pause.
He set the pen down and turned to the map stand behind him. His fingers moved quickly over the rolls until he found the one he needed. He pulled it out and spread it across the table.
“Here,” he said. “This is the one.”
I stepped closer and scanned it. The ridge was marked clearly—elevation lines, narrow paths, unstable sections. Exactly what I needed.
I took the map. “Thank you.”
He nodded once. “Be careful.”
I stepped out of the hut and into the night. Helga was waiting outside. She leaned against one of the posts, arms crossed, like she’d been there the whole time.
“We built a new hut for you,” she said, pointing upward.
I followed her gesture. The structure was set into the trees—elevated, secured, and partially hidden.
“Good work,” I said.
She pushed off the post and stepped closer. “You’re going back out?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“At first light.”
She studied my face for a second, then nodded.
“Alright,” she said. “What do you need?”
I adjusted my grip on the map.
“Arrows,” I said. “As many as we can carry.”
Her expression didn’t change, but I saw the shift in her eyes.
“Understood.”
I started toward the tree line, then stopped.
“Get some rest,” I added. “And tell Jehan of our plans.”
She gave a short nod.
Finally, some rest.