sight, creating orange rivers snaking down the cliffs. “Contrary to what my brother says, it isn’t safe for us to head closer to the volcano. We will wait for you here.”
Rosalia wasn’t entirely certain it was safe for her to head up to the active volcano. She stared at the particles of ash and cinder floating in the air then turned her head to glance at Xavier.
“I’m with you,” came his solemn vow, before he placed most of his belongings with their guides, folded his clothes into Rosalia’s pack, and assumed his draconic body. Hyraj stared up at him in wonder rather than her brothers’ disdain, their fear and resentment worn with unabashed honesty.
Rosalia looked resolutely forward at the path ahead of them and inhaled a deep breath. Maybe she was fireproof. Maybe she wasn’t. The one thing she knew with certainty was that she wouldn’t discover the entirety of her ability until she walked forward. The dragon’s massive body provided a small measure of comfort to her as she proceeded down the path.
Heat lapped against her bare feet and licked her ankles. Were she wearing a scrap of normal clothing, it would have all gone up in the inferno within seconds. Magic crackled in the fibers of her enchanted Morrita garments in defiance, a subtle whisper she only heard in the absolute stillness.
It tickled. Comforting warmth surrounded her body every step of the trail. Blistering heat waves trembled harmlessly around her.
Gaining confidence, she strode forward and picked up speed. If the fire troubled Xavier, she saw no visible sign of it affecting his tough hide. His body shimmered with rainbows.
Another molten fissure appeared alongside them and a path of glowing embers spread over the ashen soil. Rosalia watched it sear forward to create a path.
“The Trial of Fire,” Xavier murmured. “It’s really true.”
They walked for miles in the baking heat, curving around one rocky structure on the glowing trail and beginning their ascent up the mountain. Old stone markers showed the way, some of them etched with symbols matching the designs in the Moritta village.
More than once, she lost her footing on the steep climb or a handhold broke free in her grip, splintering into pebbles that rained to the ground below them. Xavier reached for her, but she waved him off and pulled herself onto the cliff.
“I need to do it alone to gain Moritan’s blessing.”
“You are never alone while I’m here, Rosalia. Even a god should know that.” A fragile thread of humor colored his tired voice.
She couldn’t help but smile.
A half hour into their climb, they reached a cliffside edge at the mouth of an enormous cave large enough for Xavier to squeeze in behind her in his draconic form. An orange path lit their way forward, and when she glanced up, she saw fire slugs crawling over the ceiling, their sticky bodies glistening against the rock.
A normal human would have succumbed within minutes to heat stroke, and she was thankful that she had conserved her energy along the way to the volcano by traveling in darkness, rather than pushing her abilities.
Rosalia wondered how she would have fared months ago, prior to her gifts awakening. Gradually, little by little, the air became less stifling and oppressive. Because of Xavier, she’d grown in leaps and bounds, discovering an unknown power within herself.
Over and over, he’d risked his life for her.
“What they said about you isn’t true,” she said suddenly.
“I don’t hold it against them that they distrust my kind.”
“I never said that you did. I’m saying that they’re wrong. Once the stones are safe and we figure out a way to destroy the Eyeglass, we’ll come back to return their gem.” Though she had yet to figure out what Nindar had meant about the Rod of New Life. Xavier had never heard of it, and Elora had been equally clueless.
If not for the ambush by the ice elemental on the streets, Rosalia would have returned to Valanya and inquired with Priestess Falina. Now, with the city watch crawling around the shop and on high alert, they’d be fools to head into Enimura.
Yet they’d have to confront the king and his spymaster eventually. That was inevitable if they were to set the enslaved spirits free.
“We’re almost there,” Rosalia muttered.
“How do you know?”
She hesitated. “A feeling.”
That same feeling told her when to turn and when to climb, how to lead Xavier to the core of the volcano. Eventually, unpolished rock became smooth surfaces, and the world around them glittered