The flames of darkness, p.17
The Flames of Darkness, page 17
Everin dropped instantly and so did Tariel and Tariya.
A wall of fire roared past her, forcing Kael and his men to stumble back, shielding their faces. The alley lit in violent orange, shadows jerking against the walls.
She looked up, heart hammering. “Dad?”
“Stay close,” ordered Marcus.
With his fire clearing the path, they slipped through a back way, twisting down darkened streets until the city noise swallowed their pursuers.
Only when they stepped inside an abandoned apartment building did Everin finally breathe again.
Everin asked, “Dad, how did you find me?”
Marcus Haydon’s eyes softened just a little. “Family GPS tracking app, which all our family members have installed on their cell phones. I just had this feeling you were in danger. After I heard about the Hell’s Fire Dragon, I couldn’t stay away. When the Academy told me you would be in New York, I took leave and followed. I needed to see you with my own eyes.”
“I’ll contact the professors,” said Tariel, taking his cell phone out.
“With this gang tracking us, our accommodation booked for the night will not be safe. But I have a place in mind,” informed Tariya.
Everin realised the danger had passed, for now, but for how long before the gang caught with them, she wasn’t sure.
∞∞∞
That night, the team camped out in an apartment owned by Tariya’s family. The Grattons were out of town, and Tariya had insisted they use it as a safe place to rest and plan their next move. The rooms were sparsely furnished but warm enough to feel safe.
They sat around a small table, sharing a simple dinner. Professor Rudiff cleared his throat. “We need to think about our next move,” he said. “I know we’ve been looking for the Stone of Opalia here in New York, but there’s a place that holds more knowledge than anything we’ve seen so far, the Archives of the Dragon Council.”
The room fell silent. Everyone knew the Archives were the most secure part of the Council’s headquarters. They held the oldest, most powerful texts on dragon lore.
“If we can get access,” Rudiff continued, “we might find more on the Stone. Something that could tell us exactly where it is.”
“Why didn’t they let us search the Archives in the first place? I mean… if I’m a brewing danger to the whole world…” Everin’s voice trailed off. She didn’t want to say the rest.
“Because some members of the Council believe the Hell’s Fire Dragon should be wiped out,” Professor Stark said. Her voice was steady. “To prevent its master, the Demon of Darkness and Chaos, from rising at all.”
“So they just want to kidnap my daughter,” Marcus muttered, his tone sharp.
Tariel’s gaze shifted to Everin then, almost instinctively. For a moment, the sounds in the room seemed to fade away. His eyes, which lingered on hers, were steady, warm, and certain, as if he was silently telling her that no matter what the Council decided, he wasn’t going to let them touch her. She felt heat rise to her cheeks and quickly glanced down at her hands, but the comfort in that look stayed with her, easing the tightness in her chest.
“We’ll need to get there as soon as possible,” Tariel said, his tone firm but carrying the same quiet assurance she had just seen in his eyes. “We don’t have much time. We’re already being hunted.”
“And we need a plan,” said Tariya, bringing in her laptop.
Everin nodded. The danger was real, and every step they took could be their last. But she wasn’t going to back down, not when Tariel’s unspoken promise was still warm in her mind, and not when so much depended on finding the Stone of Opalia. She only hoped it wasn’t already too late.
Chapter 27
A Secret Vault
The next morning, the group gathered in the modest apartment to prepare for their next step. Marcus Haydon was getting ready to leave. Everin stood by the window, staring out at the early morning light breaking over the skyline, her thoughts tangled in worry. She had never seen her father in such a hurry before, and the sudden parting left her feeling unsettled.
Marcus placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip warm and firm.
"Everin," he said, his voice low but steady. "Be careful. You don’t know who you can trust here, because not everyone has your best interest at heart." His eyes, filled with both love and concern, held hers. "If anything happens, call me. I’ll be there.”
Everin nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I’ll be careful, Dad. Thank you."
"Good," he said, pulling her into a tight hug. "And stay strong. Don’t let anyone tell you who you are, especially when you don’t even know yourself yet."
With that, he was gone, leaving the apartment quieter and heavier.
Tariel was in the kitchen, his back turned as he busied himself with a frying pan. The smell of sizzling bacon drifted through the air, making Everin’s stomach grumble. She couldn’t help but admire him as he worked, the easy confidence in his movements, the way the morning light seemed to catch in his dark hair. He looked effortlessly handsome, and her heart gave a soft ache as her feelings for him only deepened.
"Need some help?" she asked, stepping into the warm light of the kitchen.
Tariel glanced over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips. "If you want to help, keep me company. I could use the moral support. And maybe be a taste tester if you’re feeling brave."
She arched an eyebrow. "Brave, huh? That doesn’t sound very reassuring."
He chuckled, whisking eggs with practiced ease. "My cooking will be better than last time, I promise."
"That wouldn’t be hard to beat," she teased, brushing past him to set two plates on the counter. "Last night, I couldn’t tell if it was chicken or rubber."
Tariel laughed, the sound warm. "Okay, fair. But in my defense, I was busy trying not to burn the Grattons’ apartment."
The easy banter eased something tight inside her. For a few minutes, the weight of the world seemed to lift, and it was just them, two partners in a quiet kitchen pretending life was normal.
Tariel slid the eggs onto the plates and set the pan aside. When she turned to take them, her fingers brushed his. She looked up and found his gaze waiting for hers. It was steady, searching, carrying a silent promise that he would be there, no matter what came next.
Before she could think, he leaned in, and she met him halfway. The kiss was soft, not rushed or demanding, just an unspoken reassurance, a way of telling each other that somehow, everything would be alright.
When they pulled apart, her heart was racing, but not from fear.
"Come on," he said quietly, handing her a plate. "Eat. We have a long day ahead."
She nodded, unable to hide the small, private smile tugging at her lips.
By the time breakfast was done, the mood had shifted back to urgency. The team was ready to leave, and the journey to the Council of Dragons of the West was about to begin.
∞∞∞
The Drakon Academy team hopped off the tram and walked a short distance to the Mascott Building, a common name in the human world, but only the dragon community knew what lay within the walls. The building housing the Council of Dragons of the West loomed in front of them, its grandeur impossible to ignore. Tall marble columns lined the entrance, and the golden dragon insignia inscribed above the doors was a clear reminder of the power held within.
Everin took a deep breath, trying to quell the growing sense of intimidation. She had no idea what to expect inside, only that it was going to be difficult to get answers.
Professor Stark stood at the head of the group, her posture rigid and formal as she approached the entrance. "Stick to the plan," she instructed, her voice low but commanding. "We’re here to submit the Book of Dracos, as instructed by Lady Mac Naught. Nothing more, nothing less. We don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention."
Mr. Zenith, the manager of the Council’s building, a pompous man in his forties, greeted them in the lobby with an air of skepticism. His bald head gleamed under the overhead lights as he adjusted his glasses and eyed them warily.
"Do you have the Book of Dracos?" he asked, his tone businesslike.
Professor Stark smiled coolly, lifting the book in her hands. "Yes, of course," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "We’ve been instructed by Lady Mac Naught herself to bring it for review."
Zenith looked at the book, his expression unreadable. "Hmm. It’s been a while since the Council has requested such a thing." He eyed them suspiciously. "I’ll need to see it before you can go any further."
Miss Stark didn’t hesitate, her hand moving quickly to open the book, revealing its ancient pages. Zenith’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the text, the strange symbols and mysterious writings clearly drawing his interest. After a moment of tense silence, he nodded reluctantly.
"Very well," he muttered. "Follow me."
∞∞∞
The group followed Mr. Zenith through the long, echoing corridors of the Council of Dragons of the West building, their footsteps soft against the polished marble floors. Tariel’s eyes never stopped moving, taking in the carved doorframes, the gilded dragon motifs glinting in the lamplight, the subtle turns of the hallways. This place was a palace of history and politics, and every wall seemed to hum with the weight of centuries.
They turned another corner, and his gaze caught on the words carved in gold above an arched doorway: The Archives. The lettering was bold yet elegant, as if deliberately meant to draw the eye. He didn’t need to say a word. One look at Everin, then at Tariya, was enough. They all understood. This was where they needed to be. Not now, not with Zenith watching, but soon.
Inside Zenith’s office, the atmosphere was heavy, as though the very air was aware of the politics at play. Professor Stark and Professor Rudiff were seated opposite Zenith, speaking in low, deliberate tones about the Book of Dracos. The ancient tome rested on the polished surface between them, looking as though it belonged in this place of power.
Zenith leaned back in his chair with the posture of a man who was used to respect. Tariel stepped forward with an easy expression, pretending to examine the Book’s pages before reading a few lines aloud in the pure Dracos tongue. The effect was immediate. Zenith’s brows rose, and his earlier indifference shifted into genuine curiosity.
“You can read ancient Dracos?” Zenith asked, leaning forward, his tone betraying a trace of admiration.
“A hobby,” Tariel replied mildly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.
As Zenith leaned in, Tariel’s right hand moved in a fluid, practiced motion. The passkey slid out of Zenith’s pocket with barely a whisper. His heart thudded once in satisfaction, but his face remained composed.
Across the room, Everin suddenly stumbled back, her breath sharp. She clutched at herself as if wrestling with something inside.
“Oh no! I… I can’t control it!” she cried, her voice rising in alarm.
Zenith’s chair scraped hard against the floor as he shot to his feet. “What’s wrong with her?”
From behind, Tariel heard Professor Stark’s dry voice. “She’s learning her transformation and is unable to control it yet. You don’t want her burning your office.”
Tariya was already at Everin’s side, her grip firm on her friend’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you some air,” she said quickly, playing her part without missing a beat.
“Stay calm,” Tariel added, stepping in smoothly, urgency hidden beneath his steady tone.
The moment they turned into a side corridor, Tariya slipped her free hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small, sleek device no bigger than a coin. Tariel recognized it instantly: one of her uncle’s toys, a gadget that could scramble or erase them from any live security feed. Highly illegal, highly effective. She pressed a stud on its side, and a faint ripple shimmered over them like heat haze. Tariel knew they could move now without leaving a trace.
The corridor to the Archives was deserted. He slid the passkey into the lock, and the door opened with a quiet click.
The air inside was thick and cool, smelling faintly of parchment and old leather bindings. Shelves lined the walls, heavy with scrolls and ancient books, the kind of relics whose value couldn’t be measured in gold. But nothing they could see hinted at the Stone.
It was Everin who noticed the massive dragon banner hanging against the far wall, its edges shifting slightly in a draft. She pulled it aside to reveal a stone door carved with faded runes.
The door swung inward, and they stepped into a smaller vault. Here, the air seemed older still, heavy with the kind of silence that only came from being sealed away for decades. Glass display cases lined the walls, filled with relics whose markings even Tariel couldn’t place. But at the very back, incongruous among all the ancient wonders, sat a sleek computer terminal.
Before Tariel could process what he was seeing, Tariya was at the desk, her fingers flying across the keyboard. He had no idea where she’d learned to move like that, but she was damn good. She slid a slim USB stick from her pocket and plugged it into the side of the machine. The screen flickered, lines of encrypted code unraveling under her touch as if the system itself were bowing to her will.
Minutes later, the database opened like a vault door, revealing rows of records and catalogues. Tariya’s eyes scanned the entries until she stopped suddenly.
“The Stone of Opalia,” she read aloud, her voice tight. “Last seen in St. Paul’s Chapel, located within Columbus College.”
A flicker of triumph shot through Tariel’s chest. They had their lead.
“We need to move,” he said sharply. “Zenith won’t be distracted forever.”
They left the vault as they had entered, quiet, careful, and without a trace, with Tariel locking the door behind them. Walking swiftly, he let the passkey fall to the floor in the shadows, his mind already turning to their next step.
St. Paul’s Chapel. Columbus College. Now they finally had a direction.
∞∞∞
Later that night, the three of them sat together on the sofa in Gratton’s apartment, the hum of the city outside faint through the windows. Professor Stark and Professor Rudiff faced each other from opposite chairs, their voices low but charged.
“It’s too risky,” Professor Stark said, her tone clipped.
Mr. Rudiff leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “It’s our only lead. If we want the Stone of Opalia, we have to move now. The Council will waste days debating while our enemies close in.”
Tariya crossed her arms. “He’s right. We can’t just sit here.”
Tariel gave a small nod. “Waiting only gives them an advantage.”
Everin kept her gaze on Rudiff, grateful someone was willing to push for action. “We can handle it,” she said quietly.
Professor Stark’s eyes moved over each of them before she let out a long sigh. “Fine. We leave for Columbus College tomorrow. But we stay sharp. One mistake could ruin everything.”
Everin felt the words settle heavily inside her. Tomorrow could change everything, for better or worse.
Chapter 28
How Not to Be?
The tingling started before dawn. Everin woke with her skin prickling, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Each thump sent heat through her veins. She lay still, willing it to fade. But it didn’t.
A sharp pulse shot up her spine. She gasped and sat up. Her fingers curled on their own. Points of pain broke the skin, and claws replaced her nails. The room tilted, edges bending like heat waves.
“Everin?” Tariya’s voice came from the next bed, sleep-blurred but worried.
“Are you okay?”
Everin slid her feet to the floor and tried to breathe. “Stay back,” she said.
Tariya crossed the rug anyway and reached for her shoulder. Everin’s arm swept out, not to strike but to keep her away.
Power surged, and Tariya flew backward, hitting the wall with a thud. She slid down, stunned, then held up a hand to show she was fine. She didn’t come closer.
The pressure inside Everin climbed. Dark heat coiled through her bones. She caught her reflection in the dresser mirror and froze. Green fire burned in her eyes, scales pushed through her skin, and each scale carried the hell’s mark, a dark, forked flame glyph.
Footsteps pounded down the hall.
The door flew open. Professor Stark, Professor Rudiff, and Tariel rushed in. Stark took it all in at a glance: Tariya on the floor, and Everin half-shifted. Her mouth set as she figured out what had happened moments ago.
Rudiff stepped forward, golden light already building in his hands. Threads of dragon energy spun outward, weaving into a net that dropped over Everin and tightened. The restraint clamped down hard. She snarled, a sound that didn’t feel human.
“Hold,” Stark said, voice clipped.
“I’m holding,” Rudiff ground out.
The power inside her heaved. The net groaned and split. Golden strands snapped like brittle wire and fell away.
Everin’s gaze locked on Rudiff, fierce and unblinking.
Tariel stepped in front of her. His lips moved. The words that came weren’t modern Draconian. They were deeper, older tones that seemed to hang in the air. The sound reached her, not like a command but like a hand offered through smoke.
She understood what he meant: Stay with me. Don’t go under.
“I won’t be controlled,” she hissed in the same ancient Draconian language, her voice layered, half hers and half something else.
Tariel’s eyes moved a fraction as he comprehended what she had said, but before he could speak further, the Professors acted.
Rudiff surged his magic again. A second net crashed down, thicker and brighter. Stark added her power, anchoring it. The pressure closed in from all sides until the heat receded. Claws withdrew. Scales sank. Everin dropped to her knees, chest heaving.
Silence held for a beat. Stark’s eyes cut to Tariel. “What language was that?”
Rudiff shook his head. “Older than anything I’ve heard in practice.”
