dagger shaking in his hand. And Aurora knew that it was going to kill him. The blood had set something off in the creature, and it was going to burn them away.
She moved on instinct, all of her fear for Finnegan, all of her fascination, all of her need for answers swelling inside her and driving her forward. Her free hand snatched at the dragon’s chest, and she reached for the connection, for the way their blood sang together, her dragon pendant burning at her throat, hot enough for its wings to imprint on her skin.
And her hand slipped, brushing against the dragon’s smooth scales and then sinking deeper, slipping into pure heat that pulsed and writhed and caressed her skin. She bit back a scream. Her hand snatched at the fire. She wrenched it backward, and the scream escaped her throat.
She held a heart, no larger than her own. A fierce red thing that glowed in the darkness.
The dragon looked at her. She looked back. And she felt the sadness in its eyes as though it were her own. It tore at her, the pain searing through her own veins, so intense that she almost shoved the heart back, almost abandoned Finnegan, almost left all the answers she wanted in this cave, to give the murderous creature its life again. To give it the freedom she had wanted for herself.
But then the instant was over, and the dragon began to smolder. Not the air-bending heat she had seen before, the steam rising from its nostrils, but a crackling and burning, smoke rushing from its scales, singeing the air. The dragon opened its mouth, but nothing came out except a strangled shriek. Then its scales, its powerful wings, its cavernous eyes were all glowing red, crinkling into black like burning paper, the fire spreading from the inside out, until it was consumed by its own heat. It crumbled, skin and scales and fire all blackening and falling to the ground as the heat pushed out and out and out.
Aurora ran. She clutched the heart, and she ran, scrambling around the stalagmites, tripping over stones, the heart beating in time with her own. The other dragons were screaming now, not the death scream of the first, but screams of anger, of hatred. Aurora ran faster. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw Lucas following. Behind him, the once great dragon was nothing more than a huge ball of flame and smoke, still growing, lighting the entire cavern so that Aurora could see the cracks in the ceiling. The ground rumbled, and she ran, twisting into the narrow corridor, forcing herself up and up and up the slope, terrified that the fire would catch them at any second, that one of the dragons would swoop down and roast them as they fled.
Behind her, Lucas screamed.
She plunged out of the mouth of the cave and tumbled to the ground, the rocks scraping her knees raw. She threw down her free hand to stop her fall, and little stones embedded themselves in her skin. She came to a stop a few feet from the cave, hidden in the shadow of a boulder.
She looked at the heart in her hand. It was so small, almost delicate, like one squeeze would make it burst. Such a fragile thing, to keep that terrible creature intact. But she could still feel it beating. Her hand was scorched black.
She pulled up her tunic to inspect the wound in her side. It was shallower than she had expected, and the blood had already clotted. Painful, but not life-threatening. She had dealt with worse before.
Aurora staggered to her feet, ignoring the sting in her knees and her side. If Lucas emerged from the cave, he would have to make his way back alone. Perhaps he was waiting for her to leave. Perhaps it would be safer if they walked back to the capital separately anyway. Perhaps.
She scrambled down the slope. The mountain rumbled beneath her feet, and she could still hear the dragons’ screams. The earth rushed toward her, faster and faster as she slid over the stones, desperate to reach level ground, to reach the ghosts of the villages, to run and run until those horrible cries were miles behind her.
Celestine was waiting for her in the village at the base of the mountain. The witch stood beside a melted wall, framed by black soot and white stone. She glanced at the heart in Aurora’s hand, and she