The cliff was silent now, the night holding its breath. Jake stepped out from the mouth of the cliffside cavern and leaned toward the edge, searching desperately for any sign of Avrae. Far below, the clouds churned in thick, shifting layers, swallowing everything beneath them. The waterfall thundered out of several jagged breaks in the rock face farther down the cliff, its spray drifting upward in a cold mist. He had seen Avrae fall past that point, wings limp and body spinning, but now there was nothing. No shadow. No movement. No hint of whether the dragon had recovered or continued plummeting toward the ground.
Jake's stomach twisted. Not knowing was the hardest part.
The monster had vanished into the forest, moving with a purpose only it understood. The motes in Jake's skin still pulsed faintly, a reminder that whatever it was, it hadn't left him behind.
A soft crunch of gravel behind him made him turn.
Violet stepped toward him, arms lifting as if to steady him. She suddenly cried out in pain.
Jake spun, startled. Violet's hands glowed a deep, unnatural purple, and a strange rhythmic whisper poured from her mouth. It wasn't her voice. It wasn't any voice he recognised. The sound was layered and ancient, like several people chanting through her at once.
"Violet?" Jake reached for her, but she didn't seem to hear him.
The melody swelled, vibrating through the stone beneath their feet. The air around her shimmered, bending as if heat were rising from her skin. Her expression flickered between terror and awe, as though she both channelled and was a prisoner of whatever force had taken hold of her. For a heartbeat, Jake saw something raw in her eyes, a fear she would never admit aloud.
The sound cut off abruptly, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.
Jake looked up and froze.
Avrae's broken body floated before them, suspended in the air as a puppet with its strings cut. His wings hung limp. His eyes were dark. No breath. No twitch. No life. Seeing the mighty dragon like that twisted something deep inside Jake, a cold knot forming in his stomach.
Violet's chanting shifted into something like a dance. A dark purple aura spiralled around her, flickering like candlelight in a storm. Her hair lifted as if caught in a wind only she could feel. When she thrust her hands forward, streams of exotic energy poured into Avrae's corpse, weaving through his scales like threads of lightning.
Both Violet and the dragon convulsed violently.
Jake stumbled back as their screams tore through the night. The sound was raw and primal, something that felt wrong in the air. Avrae's eyes snapped open, blazing orange like carved lanterns. With a shuddering gasp, the dragon lurched upright, coughing smoke and ash.
"Food!" Avrae croaked. He lunged toward them, then swerved aside at the last second, wheezing. "Got you."
Jake let out a shaky laugh, half relief and half disbelief. "Can you chase that monster and see where it's going? You can't miss it."
"I just died," Avrae snapped. "Why don't you go, Jayk?"
"I can't fly," Jake said through clenched teeth. "Will you help or not?"
"Hmph," Avrae grumbled, then launched himself skyward. His wings beat unevenly at first, but they gained strength with each stroke.
Jake turned to Violet. "What kind of magic was that?"
"Necromancy," she said quietly. "Not for the faint of heart."
Her voice trembled. She tried to hide it, but Jake saw the way her hands shook and how she kept flexing her fingers, as if afraid the magic might still be clinging to her skin. She looked away quickly, her jaw tightening.
Jake blinked. "Was I the only one studying normal subjects at Feldspar?"
"You and Asher were the only boy scouts," she said with a short laugh. The smile faded almost instantly. "Honestly, I knew the theory. I'd never tried it. This shouldn't have worked."
"You drank from the waters, too," Jake said.
Violet nodded, troubled. "Yes. And now I can't help wondering what else we can do." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Or what else I might do without meaning to."
Jake didn't know how to answer that.
"Care to include me in this conversation?" Asher groaned from the ground, clutching his ribs.
Jake helped him up. "Let's get you down to the castle."
The descent was more of a controlled slide, with Asher complaining every few steps. Jake threatened to toss him over the cliff. Violet repeated the threat with enough conviction to make Asher fall silent. People rarely knew when she was joking, which made her jokes far more effective.
Inside the castle, the air was warm and thick with the scent of old stone and simmering broth. They headed for the kitchens. As Jake reached for the pantry door, hurried footsteps pattered behind it.
"There's someone in there," he murmured.
Asher smirked. "What kind of world are you running here, Jake? Keeping people in the pantry?"
Jake sighed. "This place is evolving on its own."
He pulled the handle, but the door slammed shut again. A giggle echoed from behind it. Every time Jake tried to open it, the unseen occupant slammed it shut like a mischievous child.
Then a knife stabbed through the wood.
Jake stepped back. "Enough!"
A tiny voice snapped, "Food will be ready in one hour!"
The footsteps scampered away.
Later, in the dining hall, a single goblin chef marched past them carrying an impossible number of trays. Its green, blemished skin and crooked nose were unmistakable. Its beady black eyes flicked between them with suspicion, as though daring them to complain.
Jake watched it bustle around the room, muttering curses in a language that sounded like gravel being ground underfoot. It moved with frantic precision, darting between counters and balancing trays on its head, shoulders, and elbows. At one point, it climbed onto the table to reach a high shelf, kicking aside cutlery with a hiss.
"Where are the others?" Jake asked.
"There's only me," the goblin screeched, hurling a spoon at his head. "No one else is welcome. No one else is needed. No one else survives the ovens."
Jake blinked. "The… ovens?"
The goblin froze, eyes widening. "Slip of the tongue." Then it scuttled away at alarming speed.
Jake puffed out his cheeks. "Violet, this must be a goblin."
"I know, Jake. I taught you about them."
He pretended he remembered.
Half an hour later, the hall filled with the scent of roasted meats and spices. One goblin was apparently enough to feed a castle. The creature moved with manic energy, humming tunelessly and occasionally shouting at invisible assistants. At one point, it stopped dead, sniffed the air, and declared, "Too much thyme," before sprinting back into the kitchen.
A roar shook the windows.
"Let me have some!" Avrae bellowed from outside, already clawing at the stonework.
Jake groaned. "Chef, pack something large. I'll take it out before he eats the castle."
The goblin shoved a platter into his hands with surprising force. "Take it. Take it and go before he eats me."
Avrae practically inhaled the food. Bones flew everywhere, clattering across the courtyard.
"What did you see up north?" Jake asked.
"Can't this wait?" Avrae snapped.
Jake stared.
"Fine," the dragon huffed. "Wolves fighting wolves. Blood everywhere. Two puny humans watching. One wore a hat."
"Professor Melia," Jake muttered.
"Stop interrupting." Avrae threw a bone that smacked Jake in the face.
Jake rubbed his cheek. "Sorry."
"And then," Avrae continued, "Lady Anya of Brockwing rode a giant monster through the battlefield. Warriors chanted her name."
Jake's stomach dropped. He had dreamed of Anya becoming a Lady of Brockwing Vale one day, but not like this. Not riding a monster that answered to the same strange pull he felt in his own skin. Not leading warriors through a battlefield soaked in blood.
The motes beneath his skin stirred again, faint but insistent, as if echoing Avrae's words.
Somewhere out there, Anya was moving with purpose. And whatever she had become, whatever she was riding, it was tied to him.
Jake swallowed hard. The night suddenly felt much colder.