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Dawlya’s Dragon 107
107 The war room in Ashbarrie had never felt so quiet. Avi stood in the center of the chamber, the glow of late afternoon sunlight scattering across the polished stone. Her tattoo pulsed softly seven bright lines threading up her cheek, each one a reminder of what the Circle had become. Brie and Trace stood together. Mikan in guarding posture beside them. Cain hovered near Avi, close enough to catch her, far enough not to interfere. Morgan and Chance waited at her sides, forming a stabilizing triangle. Avi exhaled. “I want to send them a message,” she said. “Not an attack. Not a spell. Just… a warning. If they’re going to keep coming after me, after my family, after my people then I want them to hear it from me, not the Circle acting on instinct.” Chance glanced at Mikan. Mikan looked at Brie. Brie nodded once. “You have permission,” the Queen said. “But do not start a war with this alone. You are sending a warning, not a declaration.” Avi swallowed hard. “That’s all I want.”
Dawlya’s Dragon 106
106 The Ashbarrie palace war room was already crowded when Puc and his Ghosts stepped through the teleport gate. Mikan, Brie, Trace, Morgan, Cain, Daxen, and Captain Garrik were waiting. But the moment the Ghost squad materialized, the temperature in the room shifted. Puc looked like he’d brought the graveyard with him. His mask was off rare and ash streaks still clung to the creases of his armor. His team was silent, standing in formation behind him, each one visibly on edge. Mikan was the first to speak. “What did you find?” Puc didn’t answer immediately. He reached into a sealed containment pack and set a crystalline recorder on the table. It pulsed with flickering red static. Morgan stiffened. “Residual Dawlya magic,” he muttered. “Unstable. That’s not good.” Brie folded her hands atop the table. “Puc. Report.” Puc inhaled once, steadying himself. “High Queen, Kings… the Dawlya council attempted a ritual to seize the Circle either to claim it or to stop Avi from keeping it
Dawlya’s Dragon 105
105 The great strategy chamber beneath the palace had not been used in over a century. Its circular table is obsidian and carved with the sigils of every royal house flickered with projection lights as maps of the Dawlya territories shimmered above it. Brie and Trace entered first, regal but grim. Mikan followed, tension rolling off him in barely-contained waves; Morgan and Daxen flanked him, both alert, both silently calculating. Captain Garrik stood at attention near the far end, and Commander Thomas waited beside him, posture sharp. The Veilkeepers arrived last. Avi stepped in with them, still pale from Cain’s near-death but steady. The Circle pulsed faintly under her skin, quiet, but awake, listening. Joren bowed, Kael stiffened, Mira and Lees exchanged nervous glances. And then Cain. He limped in with Morgan’s help, refusing a chair at first until Avi’s narrow glare forced him into one. His injured body trembled, but his eyes burned like wildfire. The room fell silent. Tra
Dawlya’s Dragon 104
104 Cain’s first inhale was sharp and painful, the kind that dragged him abruptly out of the darkness. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused, the world a haze of soft lantern light and the faint scent of herbs. Then he felt a warm pressure on his hand. Avi. She was slumped over the edge of the bed, her cheek resting against his arm, exhaustion pulling faint shadows beneath her eyes. Even in sleep she looked ready to break into pieces. The Circle’s glow flickered faintly along her tattoo dormant now, but Cain remembered the pain, the darkness closing in, and something ancient and furious wrapping around him like a shield. He tried to speak. His throat barely cooperated. “Avi…” Her eyes snapped open instantly. She jerked upright, breath catching when she saw him awake. “Cain!” Her voice broke on his name. She cupped his face in her hands, trembling. “Don't you ever do that to me again. Ever.” He managed the faintest smirk. “Wasn’t… my idea.” She huffed out a sob-laugh and pressed he
Dawlya’s Dragon 103
103 Cain lay unconscious in the private medical wing of the Draynor capital, his skin still marked by the violent magic that had nearly stopped his heart. Avi sat beside him, clasping his hand, the Circle pulsing faintly beneath her skin with a protective hum that would not quiet. Morgan stood guard near the door, pale with exhaustion but alert, while Chance monitored the magical residue still lingering in the room dark, oily threads of Dawlya spellwork that refused to fully dissipate. When the double doors slammed open, no one dared to breathe. Queen Brieanika entered first, her red dragon aura flaring so hot the torches guttered against the walls. Trace followed, quieter but twice as dangerous, flames slipping between his fingers as if desperate to ignite something. They stopped beside Cain’s bed. Trace stared down at the injured sentinel, jaw trembling with barely controlled fury. “They came after Mikan’s sentinel,” he whispered. “After the man who protects my daughter.” Bri
Dawlya’s Dragon 102
102 Far from Draynor, in the shrouded cavern where the Dawlya Council gathered, the air trembled with unstable threads of magic. Cracked stone glowed with violet runes as the surviving Circle Heads circled a scrying pool, its surface rippling with visions of Ashbarrie. And of Cain. The one they had begun to call the Wing of Fire. He was laughing softly, unaware, brushing a strand of hair behind Avi’s ear as they exited the training hall. His scent-mark burned bright around her, a possessive flare the Dawlya could feel through the tether they had failed to reclaim. “Enough,” hissed Councilor Rianne, slamming her staff against the stone. “Every attempt to cage the girl has failed. She has claimed the Circle. Our Circle. And now her dragon-mate strengthens her power.” “She is beyond a Keeper now,” muttered Sorla. “Seven lines. No apprentice in history has carried seven. If more dissidents escape to join her, the Council falls.” Murmurs of fear rippled through the chamber. “We stri
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