POV: Ravenna
Dawn breaks over Skyreach territory and the world is FLYING.
I mean that literally. Floating stones hover in the air like someone forgot to tell them about gravity. Massive rock formations drift through clouds. Waterfalls pour from nowhere and vanish into mist. The air currents are INSANE—one moment we're gliding smooth, the next Solace is fighting to stay level against wind that wants to slam us into a floating mountain.
"Stay close," Theron's voice through the mental link all our dragons share. Havoc flies ahead, massive and steady, cutting through the wind like it's nothing. "Monastery is two miles north."
I can see it now. A cluster of white stone buildings built INTO a hovering rock formation. Bridges connecting different levels. Prayer flags whipping in the wind. It looks peaceful. Serene.
It's a FORTRESS.
"Eclipse agents confirmed on the perimeter," Saren reports. His dragon Abyss banks left, water trailing from his scales like living ribbons. "At least fifteen. Maybe more inside."
"Aerial support?" Hadrian asks.
"Four dragons holding position above." Theron's voice is cold. Focused. "They won't engage unless we're spotted."
We approach from the east where the rising sun will blind the guards. Standard infiltration tactics. Except we're flying on DRAGONS through impossible wind currents toward a monastery full of people who want us dead.
Just another day in my absolutely normal life.
We land on a lower platform—a small stone terrace barely big enough for four dragons. I shift back to human form, my legs shaking slightly from the flight. Solace doesn't like the air currents here. Too unpredictable. Too dangerous.
I don't like them either.
"Ground team moves now," Theron says, already shifting and drawing his blade. "Saren, Hadrian, two warriors with me. Ravenna stays center, protected."
"I can fight—"
"You're our HEALER." His amber eyes pin me. "If someone goes down, you save them. That's your job. Let us handle the violence."
I want to argue. But he's right. My gift is more valuable than my blade skills.
"Fine," I mutter. "But if you die, I'm going to be VERY angry."
His mouth twitches. Almost a smile. Then he's moving—fast and silent up the stone steps toward the monastery entrance.
We follow. Saren and Hadrian flanking, two Fire kingdom warriors behind me. The monastery is quiet. Too quiet. Either they don't know we're here or—
An Eclipse agent drops from above, blade aimed at Theron's back.
Theron spins and catches the blade on his own, the CLANG echoing across stone. The fight is brutal and fast. Three moves and the agent is down, throat slit, bleeding out on ancient stones.
"They know we're here," Hadrian says dryly.
"Then we move fast." Theron kicks in the monastery door.
Chaos ERUPTS.
Eclipse agents pour from doorways and corridors. Some in robes, some in armor, all of them armed and ready. Saren's dual blades flash in the morning light, water-enhanced strikes cutting through defenses. Hadrian fights like a TANK—brutal, efficient, unstoppable. The two warriors guard my flanks.
I stay in the center, hands ready to heal, watching for injuries.
An agent breaks through, blade aimed at my chest. One of my guards intercepts, taking the hit meant for me. He goes DOWN.
I drop beside him. The wound is deep, blood pumping from his side. I press my hands to it and let my gift FLOW. Healing flames seal flesh, reconnect torn vessels, pull him back from the edge.
"Get up," I tell him. "We're not done."
He staggers to his feet, pale but alive. Returns to the fight.
We push forward. Through the entrance hall. Past meditation chambers. Bodies fall—Eclipse agents who chose to fight rather than surrender. I try not to look at their faces. Try not to think about how many we're KILLING.
They killed first. They've been killing for DECADES.
This is justice.
Then I see him.
The Shadow.
He materializes from—from nothing. One moment the corridor ahead is empty, the next he's there. Tall, wrapped in dark fabric, face hidden. The shadows around him move like living things.
"Theron," I breathe.
He's already moving forward. "Get Ravenna out of here. I'll handle this."
"The hell you will," I snap. "We stick together—"
"GO." His voice is COMMAND. "Find Seris. That's why we're here."
The Shadow attacks before I can argue. Darkness erupts around Theron—tendrils of shadow wrapping around his arms, his legs, trying to bind him. He roars and his body IGNITES. Fire blazing so hot the shadows recoil, burning away.
They clash. Fire and darkness. Blade and shadow. It's BRUTAL—neither giving ground, both fighting with everything they have.
"Princess." Saren grabs my arm. "He's right. We need to find Seris."
He pulls me down a side corridor. Hadrian and one remaining warrior follow. Behind us I hear Theron and the Shadow destroying the monastery. Explosions of fire. Crashes of stone. The sound of dragons roaring outside as the aerial battle begins.
We run.
The monastery is a MAZE—corridors branching in every direction, stairs leading up and down and SIDEWAYS because apparently Skyreach architecture doesn't believe in normal geometry.
"There." Saren points to an ornate door at the end of a long hallway. "That has to be—"
He doesn't finish. An Eclipse agent lunges from a side room. Saren's blade takes him down but not before the agent gets a strike in—cutting deep across Saren's shoulder.
"I'm fine," Saren grits out as I reach for him. "Later. We get Seris FIRST."
We reach the ornate door. Hadrian kicks it open.
The room beyond is—beautiful. A meditation chamber with walls of translucent stone that let light filter through in rainbow patterns. Prayer cushions arranged in a circle. Incense burning. Peaceful.
And sitting in the center, perfectly calm, is Lady Seris.
She looks up as we enter. Her pale blue-grey eyes are serene. Her silver hair is braided with her usual elegance. She's wearing simple robes—white and silver, almost priestess-like.
She looks like a saint.
She's a monster.
"Ravenna." Her voice is soft. Gentle. "I knew you would come eventually."
I step forward, Saren and Hadrian flanking me. My hands are steady but my heart is POUNDING.
"Why?" The word tears out of me. "Why did you kill my mother? Why hunt gift-bearers? Why create the ECLIPSE?"
Seris stands slowly. Gracefully. She looks at me with something almost like compassion.
"Because I have True-Sight," she says simply. "I can see lies. Deceptions. Intentions." She pauses. "And I have seen what gifts do to people. What they've done throughout history."
"So you decided to murder them?" My voice rises. "To hunt them down like ANIMALS?"
"I decided to protect the world from the corruption gifts bring." Her voice is still calm. Reasonable. Like she's explaining basic mathematics. "Gift-bearers start wars. They enslave populations. They destroy kingdoms with their power. The Pact gave us four elements—gifts are an ABERRATION. A corruption of what we were meant to be."
"Gifts are RARE," I spit. "One per few generations. We're not—"
"You're dangerous." Her eyes sharpen. "Every single one. Your mother was a healer but she could have been a weapon. You have healing flames but you could use them to BURN. The Shadow manipulates darkness—he could plunge entire kingdoms into eternal night. Gifts are power without balance. Without control."
"So you hunt us. Kill us. Because we MIGHT be dangerous?"
"Because you ARE dangerous." She steps closer. "I founded the Eclipse twenty-one years ago after watching a gift-bearer with shield ability use it to protect a tyrant. Watched him help that tyrant slaughter thousands. Watched kingdoms burn because ONE person had power beyond what nature intended."
"That's not—that's not ALL of us—"
"It doesn't matter." Her voice goes cold. Ice cold. "One bad gift-bearer can destroy everything. So ALL gift-bearers must be removed. For the greater good."
"You're INSANE."
"I'm a realist." She meets my eyes. "And I'm a hypocrite. Because I have True-Sight myself. I hate it. I DESPISE having this gift. It makes me see things I don't want to see. Know things I don't want to know. Feel marked. Different. WRONG."
She spreads her hands.
"So I use my gift to destroy gifts. I use what I hate in myself to protect others from what I know gifts can do. If I must bear this curse, I'll use it to end it forever." Her expression is eerily calm. "That is justice. That is balance."
I stare at her. This woman who killed my mother. Who hunted people like me for decades. Who built an entire organization dedicated to genocide.
And she thinks she's a HERO.
"You're coming back with us," I say quietly. "For trial. For public confession. For justice."
"Am I?" She tilts her head. "Are you sure about that?"
The shadows in the corner move.
Oh gods.
"DOWN!" Saren shoves me aside as the Shadow emerges from—from the WALL. How did he—
Theron bursts through the door, covered in blood and burns. "He's mine."
The Shadow and Theron clash again. The meditation chamber EXPLODES into violence. Hadrian engages Eclipse agents pouring in from side doors. Saren fights beside him.
And I'm left facing Seris alone.
She doesn't draw a weapon. Just watches me with those calm, terrible eyes.
"You could join us," she says quietly. "Use your gift to help us end the corruption. Heal our agents. Support our cause. Make the world safe."
"By murdering innocents?"
"By preventing future atrocities." She steps closer. "Your mother had to die. She was too powerful. Too influential. Too dangerous. But her death MEANT something. It showed that no one—not even a queen—is above the balance we maintain."
Rage burns through me. Pure, white-hot RAGE.
"You killed her because she was good. Because she HELPED people. Because she made the world better—"
"I killed her because she would have made things WORSE eventually. All gift-bearers do."
"THEN WHY ARE YOU STILL alive?" I scream. "You have True-Sight. By your own logic, YOU should die too. You're the MOST dangerous one here!"
Something flickers in her eyes. Pain? Guilt?
"I know," she whispers. "I know. And when this is done—when the last gift-bearer is gone—I'll follow them. I'll end myself. Complete the work."
She's broken. Completely, utterly BROKEN.
And she's STILL dangerous.
"Seris Althara," I say formally. "I arrest you for the murder of Queen Elara. For conspiracy to commit genocide. For crimes against the gift-bearer community. You will stand trial in Cindravale and face justice for—"
She moves.
Not attacking—FLEEING. Toward the open window. Toward escape.
"NO." I run after her. "You don't get to RUN—"
Hands grab her from behind. Hadrian. He hauls her back from the window, shackles already out.
"Nice try," he grunts.
Seris doesn't struggle. Just looks at me with those terrible, calm eyes.
"This isn't over," she says quietly. "The Eclipse is bigger than me. Bigger than ANY of us. You can arrest me. Execute me. But the ideology remains. And one day—one day someone else will pick up where I left off."
"Then we'll stop them too," I tell her. "Again and again. As many times as it takes."
Theron finally brings the Shadow down—blade through the shoulder, fire burning through shadow defenses. The assassin collapses, unconscious but alive.
"Both targets secured," Hadrian reports. "We need to move before reinforcements arrive."
We drag Seris and the Shadow out. Back through the destroyed monastery. Past bodies and blood and the ruins of what used to be a peaceful place.
Out onto the terrace where our dragons wait, we shift.
And we bring them back to Cindravale.