Real time, not the bizarre approximation of time that existed in this world. If only she had months, years ahead of her. Years to spend here on Roseward, learning this strange new power she’d never realized she possessed. If only she could commit to the study, honing and perfecting these new skills under Silveri’s guidance.
If only she could stay here.
With him.
Feeling a sting on her face, she lifted a hand to brush away a single hot tear. With an angry snarl, she shook it away and clenched her fingers into a tight fist. “What’s wrong with you? You’re better than this, smarter than this. You’ve got a mission. You know what you’ve got to do. You’re not careless. You’re not stupid. You won’t risk Papa’s life. Or yours for that matter.”
She would not, under any circumstances, for any reason, fall in love with the scarred mage of Roseward.
Nelle got to her feet, staggering a little on the uneven stones. Determined to outpace her own thoughts, she set out walking along the quiet beach, heading away from the path up to the lighthouse, away from Silveri. The dispersed wyverns showed no interest in her, and she continued for some while without seeing or hearing another living creature.
Then a sound caught her ear. Distant. Not quite familiar . . .
Or was it?
Pushing hair out of her face, Nelle looked up into the sky. A flock of dark creatures wheeled overhead, so dense she couldn’t pick out individual shapes. Was it the wyverns again? She’d seen them flock like this before. Only something was different about the movement, the energy of this flock. It lacked the graceful coordination. It was more frenzy than dance.
The sound reached her again—a chorus of shrieks, sharp and piercing.
Nelle’s eyes widened.
“A massacre,” she gasped.
Her heart leapt to her throat. The ring! Was she still wearing the summoning ring Silveri gave her? She hadn’t thought about it in days, hadn’t even looked to see if the spell had worn off. She felt for it now and, to her surprise, found the little gold band of spell threads still wrapped around her thumb. What had the mage said about activating it? Pull the threads three times?
Lifting her hand, she prepared to pull. But as she did so, she raised her gaze back to the approaching mass of wings above. They pivoted in the air, their strange, undulating mass moving as one entity as they altered course, veering away from the beach. She looked up along the line of cliffs, searching for whatever prey the swarm had fixed upon.
And saw Silveri standing high above.
Soran watched the red wyvern whirl up and away out of sight.
He’d sensed for some time now the slow disintegration of that spell. It wouldn’t have lasted much longer, and if he’d allowed it to fall apart entirely . . .
He shivered at the thought of his beautiful wyvern disintegrating along with the spellpaper of its original creation. The magnificent beast had served him faithfully for years now and always demonstrated loyal devotion, though Soran knew it had chafed under its binding restrictions.
The only way to free a wyvern was to present it with its own spell, to make it master of itself. Once that job was done, what became of the spellpaper didn’t matter anymore. The wyvern was free to live out its life, however long or short a life it might be.
Soran sighed as the crimson wings flashed out of sight, leaving the boundaries of Roseward behind. He knew it was foolish, but a small part of him had dared hope the creature would choose to remain with him. If not for his sake, then for the sake of its brethren, whose ranks were once again depleted. Their greatest safety lay in numbers, after all.
But the lure of the wide worlds beyond the Hinter Sea was too great. Soran couldn’t begrudge the poor beast its opportunity to glimpse sights beyond the confines of its prison.
What he wouldn’t give for such an opportunity!
He turned his gaze from the sky to search along the horizon for the Evenspire. He had barely glimpsed its very tip in the distance when clouds rolled by, making the view intermittent. Roseward had drifted further along the Hinter Cycle, approaching the Eledrian realms furthest removed from the mortal world.
Soran narrowed his eyes, straining his vision a little harder than before. What was that line on the horizon just to the right of the Evenspire? An illusion? The first shadow of a storm rolling