I drop down to my briefs with the cold stone of Scorius’ lair beneath my feet. The prime bubble taunts me within the vat of magically floating liquid bouncing in place. With a quick glance at my Prominent perched over his cane, I wonder if this is a trap. Some last-ditch effort to figure out I have two dragons floating within my bond.

  It’s been months since I’ve let the prime take me into one of Boeru’s memories. Back then, our bond was symbiotic, basic. What happens when I engulf myself now? Will Dovesier’s memories take over? Will Scorius be able to see what I see?

  There’s so much I don’t know.

  “The Call to Arms will take place on the great lawn behind House Valor, wall-to-wall. The Elden construction will be as legendary and intricate as it is dangerous. I’ve seen it before, Dragonborn. You come unprepared for such an undertaking. Falling out of my favor for so long was a fool’s choice. We have lost time to make up.”

  I grit my teeth.

  “Invites for the grand event will include sub-tier all the way up to the war-tier. Which means…”

  “My brother.” Rivers of adrenaline spread through my veins. “He’ll see me.”

  Scorius closes his eyes. “He will be informed of your attendance by messenger, even if deployed, yes.”

  My elation is uncontainable. A sudden surge of fire converts to warring dark within me. I want to unleash it now and fly into the sky to meet him.

  “I caution you, foolish dragonborn, do not let the spirit’s zealousness rule you.”

  No. He won’t ruin this. My chance to reunite with him is everything. Without the dark ocean, without the barriers of magi. Just us… like it was in the sub-tier.

  “Take the Elrick boy as a sign, sent from the sub-tier to show you the terrors of a ghoulborn.”

  “Elrick suffers, Prominent, but he is not lost,” I say.

  “In war, we must point our weapons in the direction of the enemy, not try and mistake them for soldiers,” Scorius says.

  “Kane Winbridge will fight by my side. Or I’ll die getting him there.”

  “Hmph.”

  “What?” I tilt my head, knowing he’s holding something back.

  “That’s not all the Call to Arms will bring. Often times, lineage attends.”

  My blood runs cold. “Meaning…”

  “Parentage. A sore point for many sub-tier ascendants.”

  “They mean nothing to me,” I say.

  “Then why was your face robbed of its color?”

  “What do I need to win, Prominent?” I change the subject. “What will earn my brother’s attention?”

  “Your bond intact, for one. I’ve searched your aura. The Torn Wing is nowhere to be found within it. I may be partially to blame.”

  “You think?”

  He eyes me, daring me to test further. “The prime bubble has a long history of restoration. Use it to find yourself again.”

  “And how do I know this isn’t one of your tricks to pry further?” I ask.

  “If it was, we’d be even, since you broke into my lair and stole a precious potion.”

  I sigh. Something tells me this test won’t give him his answers, and it may very well be the push I need to settle Boeru again. A memory. A clue to Sefene. Anything to help.

  “Will you hold me back if we’re still at odds by the end of this?” I ask, deciding I’ll stake my decision on his response.

  Scorius rubs two fingers together, activating the magi band on my arm to the point it sizzles. “You accumulate merits at an accelerated rate. Yet you haven’t used the treasure trove of your inheritance. Interesting.” His eyes flash gold. “A dragon would almost always grab at power when it presents itself.”

  “Good thing I’m not only a dragon. That kind of power would be to my detriment.” I peer at my chained dagger on the floor. “The way everyone looked at me on my first day.”

  “Unearned enchanted steel. Hmph. Some would argue putting your life on the line is payment enough.”

  “The sub-tier gave me a late start and a jumbled brain full of lies, but fate gave me the Torn Wing. Now it’s my duty to use his wing as protection for my marked and everyone else deserving of it.”

  “Hah.” Scorius hoots, then immediately frowns. “There are no rewards for empty promises in war, Dragonborn. However, if you show progress in your bond, I will not hold you back… even if we are at odds.”

  Good enough for me.

  Well, if I step into this vat and he somehow senses my second dragon, I’ll be detained on the spot. Here’s to hoping I’m protected.

  As I approach the strange liquid film, inhaling the scent of pungent serum—like burning grass—I swim inside, submerging myself. The prime bubble dances while beckoning me. I grasp for it, and it extends back, pulling me into its form and tightening around me. Within a second, my senses fade and I’m somewhere else entirely.

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  Two powerful wings straighten as I soar through a thick cloud, ascending with two dragons at my back. My body is powerful and free of affliction. This isn’t Boe’s memory…

  With a quick snap of my long neck, I internalize the two dragons close at my tail. I’ve seen them before… on Boeru’s dreadful walk to Queen Lauz, his mother. The blue one mixed with sand-colored scales and a sharp tail is Kelfore, and the other with gold wings is Risorgus. I remember them both trying to bash and burn Boeru to death.

  In this body, however, I don’t feel bad for him. On the contrary, I have a hankering to find him.

  “The runt defies orders of the roost,” Risorgus chuffs.

  “Of course. If the prized sister is in danger, he would burn his own hide to save her,” Kelfore scowls. “It’s as if he were born with a gryphon’s heart.”

  I smile at that, finding it very amusing as I curve my wings, and with one mighty beat, tuck them to soar down toward a sanctum in peril.

  “Ready yourselves, kin,” I say. “I take the center tower. You two take the wings. Converge on the back bridge if no sign of them.”

  “Look, Dovesier. Remnants of Boeru’s flame tangle with the smoke,” Kelfore says. “He is close.”

  “Hmph.” I descend faster, pulling away from my brothers and using my sharp sight to scan the battle. No one-winged runt anywhere.

  Crrk. Crrk. Crrk.

  The familiar cranking of a ballista shifting its spears upward grabs my attention. Since I’m the one with sharp sight, it’s my responsibility to warn. “East tower, targeting the one who eats more than he’s worth,” I cackle, glimpsing the marble-plated ballista and its shimmering spear. You’d think they’d be less obvious about it.

  “Bank right. Now!” I command, diving away from the ballista’s aim and watching the spear blur by.

  “We’re blowing our cover by revealing ourselves.” Risorgus bares his fangs. “Leave no survivors.”

  In stark agreement, I summon the electricity starting from my elongated belly. The pulses spike through my scales, darkening the entire sky. My vision inverts, and the bolts become maddeningly bright.

  It’s quiet, except for the high-frequency zaps of lightning flowing through me to strike the grounds. Thunder-less spears make it all the more harrowing. It means a dragon has come.

  Risorgus summons white-hot flames that he spits into windy tornadoes. They skate the ground and hurl the fleeing decorated soldiers in the chasm deep below. Last, Kelfore front flips directly into the tower, using his indestructible tail to crack the east tower literally in half.

  Amidst my awe, pulling back from Dovesier’s psyche, I realize I’ve seen this castle before… in the afterlife.

  Whoosh!

  We soar to the back bridge from our prescribed angles—evading falling stone so we can reconvene on the rear bridge.

  Crnch!

  Crnch! Crnch!

  We all slam down, our talons nearly crushing the masonry in half.

  The bridge teeters with us atop it.

  “No sign of the runt,” Kelfore grumbles.

  “His fire is too fresh for him to have gone far.” Risorgus blows steam from his nostrils. Then he whips his long neck, pressing his pointed ear to the bridge. “Screams,” his voice rattles with pleasure. “From far below.”

  I narrow my eyes. “The chasm. This castle… it’s a front for the real army.” I stomp around to face my brothers. “Are you ready to sink an entire people?” I bare my teeth.

  Whoosh!

  A growl and a powerful crunch resound behind me. “You’ll do no such thing,” Boeru’s unmistakable voice permeates the air. “They hold Sefene in their shallows.” He stomps forward, coming face to face with me.

  Contempt runs through my veins, activating sparks of lightning swirling inside my belly. I want to unleash them all onto my runt brother.

  “Orders from the roost are to lay waste to Vein-resaule Hold. The queen demands it.” I bend my neck so I’m in position to headbutt Boeru if he dares try to move past.

  “Mother knows of my motivations, Dovesier. Now, either help me rescue our sister, or get out of my way.” Boeru’s entire chest glows cerulean with fire swirling up his esophagus. “I’ll gladly pay you back in fire, Risorgus. Those winds weaken yours.” He smiles wickedly.

  He’s grown strong since the time on the bridge. Just like Scorius said.

  “Or perhaps you’d like to try my wing against your tail, Kelfore?” Boeru puffs his chest, not an ounce of fear in him.

  “How do you know they hold Sefene?” Risorgus growls.

  “I can smell the lot of you from kingdomonia away. The same goes for her. You are my blood. Scents that I’ve held since a hatchling stay with me. A blessing in her case, a curse in yours.” Boeru presses his claw on my neck to better see our brother, then stretches high to meet my eyes again.

  His show of force makes me want to tackle him off this bridge right now. My lightning trumps his fire… but he is stronger. It pains me to know it deep in my heart.

  “This is a crossroads in the war, brothers. We unleash Sefene… we regain an aura decades lost to our roost.” His head swivels between us. “Return with her, and Mother will not complain.”

  The silence is brooding at my back. Boeru was supposed to die as a hatchling. It’s the way of our kind. Sefene disrupted an entire generation of dragons by her actions, and this is a twist of fate for going against our nature.

  “Let her perish.” I bare my teeth. “Saving you was her ultimate sin. Now she pays the price.”

  Boeru roars—embers sizzling between his scales. “You will regret this day, brothers. When I return with her at my side… to win the war with her and my power combined… you will regret it.”

  “I will not mourn your crushed body when this castle implodes into the ranks beneath,” I say. “I will not mourn Sefene for her sins. You are on your own. Rogue dragons meant to die.” I extend my wing next to his torn one. “Prove useful in your heroic rescue attempt,” I say slyly, earning a snicker from my brothers. “Make a show of it. Make the mages under there call for aid from the still-standing castles afar. This way our descent on Vein-resaule goes unnoticed. Do that for us, and perhaps I will not mention your cowardice to Mother when we’re praised the victors.”

  Boeru and I growl at one another.

  “When I reemerge, Dovesier, you will be in the shadow of my torn wing.”

  “If only it could even hide a hatchling,” I snivel. “Come, brothers. We ascend for glory of the roost.”

  Risorgus and Kelfore roar at my back, and we’re off to the sky.

  I gasp back to reality, feeling the attitude and anger of Dovesier shed off me like dead skin. He’s bitter and powerful and envious of what’s above him. He reminds me of Broggen’s brutes, only with unimaginable power.

  I exhale bubbles while feeling stuck in the prime. Scorius’ frame sways through the liquid as he watches me like the hawk he is.

  “Your warring dark is off the charts, Dragonborn. Yet your bond is strangely absent.”

  I want to ask the dragons if they’re purposely hiding from Scorius due to his defiled scent, but I still can’t let him know what’s going on inside.

  Scorius sticks his hand inside the liquid, and with flexed fingers, slivers of his warring dark latch onto me like a bird’s claw and yank me out of the vat. The cold air of his chambers triggers immediate goosebumps raising on my skin, and the slap against stone scrapes my hand as I catch myself to flip upright.

  “Listen to me, and listen good.” His cloak swishes as he walks up to my dripping body. “You repair your bond as quickly as possible. It is the only way you’ll ascend come year-end. Train with your marked. Learn to use that sword you won, fight until you’re bloody and broken. Become a force to contend with. Do you hear me?” He shakes my shoulders, scaring me stiff with his out-of-character performance. “Or die trying.”