Chapter thirty - six - The truth behind fairy blood

Leaves crackle under my boots as I walk deeper into the forest. Talk of dragons causing havoc here had made it back to the Venators, and just before nightfall, most were out hunting.

The hope for not finding any dragons grows the more we move through thickets. At first, I thought that if we did, I could convince Venators not to react, or with some luck, find the dragon first.

I do not want a repeat of my village, nor can I endure another second of pretending to be ready for the trials. Solaris how I'd laugh at myself in the past if I knew the more I spent time in the city, my hatred for dragons would lessen.

"Why are you frowning?" Rydan asks, a sword in his hand as he waits for any attack. "You finally got a mission that doesn't involve patrolling."

Because the General and Lorcan were too occupied elsewhere to give out the orders...

And though I'd not seen Lorcan as much during the week, despite our moment together, he'd become distracted. And when we did meet—usually during the evening—whatever answer I tried to get from him over the shifter or the carving, he'd deflect it. We'd end up with his fingers between my legs, easing away every little thing on my mind.

"Must be because you haven't stopped following me since we left the Barracks," I grumble while watching the ground for any marks or potential hazards where one might trip at night.

Rydan chuckles and then exhales dreamily. "Ambrose, it's okay to admit you're trying to run away from our love which I get it; I mean, I'm such a great warrior Lorcy is even intimidated by me."

Well, now I know Rydan would get along with a certain self-obsessed shifter.

I look over at him, one brow up in complete disbelief. "Are you sure you're not the one who is intimidated, considering you're always blushing around Lorcan?"

He scoffs, but I know even in the darkness, he's likely going red again. "That's just allergies." He waves a hand. "Now tell me what is really going on."

Great, he's onto me.

I huff and turn to him. He does the same, and now we're both looking at each other, pursing our lips in stubbornness—mostly me. I glance at the Venator symbol on his armor and slowly grimace, knowing I have the same, we all do. It's why I sigh and decide to ignore his question by asking one, "Why did you decide to join the Venators?"

That throws him off, and he blinks, looking away. "Well," he starts, clearing his throat. "I never met my parents. I was raised by a woman instead who died a year ago. I didn't have anywhere to go, so what better place than to join where free meals and shelter are given."

I tilt my head, wondering how hard that must have been, never knowing who your parents were, and then the one person who did look after you like one... died. "And you're okay with killing dragons?" I ask softly.

"If I'm honest, I'd rather not kill anything, but you must not care considering you were a trapper, and well—" Brown eyes skim over me from top to bottom. "Seem deadly."

I'm somewhat tempted to roll my eyes as I walk off again. "I'm not as deadly as you think I am."

He catches up to me. "That's what all the guilty people say."

Solaris, how many guilty people has he come across that have said that?

"Would you look at that," he cheers. "She smiles!"

To my distaste, I start laughing and hit the side of his arm. Behind us, two trainees murmur to one another. I recognize them as Alex and Jaron—both never keep quiet.

"Yeah, right." One of them scoffs. "I doubt the shifters will stand a chance now that they've found the Neoma trees blood weakens—"

Shifters... Blood?

Planting my feet on the ground, I turn and grab Alex by the neck of his armor. Frowning, I demand, "What did you say?"

Alex's face turns ghostly even in the dark. Bringing his hands up in surrender, he widens his eyes.

"Woah, Nara!" Jaron says, but I don't look at him. All I can think is the word blood. "we're just mentioning what we overheard the General talking about with some of the leaders."

Rydan curses coming beside me as his hand touches my arm. "Ambrose, I know I said you seem deadly, but I don't think I need a demonstration right now."

I admit I could have dealt with my impulsiveness towards Alex far less... threatening. Still, I can't seem to let go as I urge, "Tell me what you overheard."

Alex side glances at Jaron, then Rydan, and sighs when his gaze is on mine. "It—it was something about the Neoma tree and how it can weaken dragons."

I look away, gathering my thoughts, hoping to remember that name, but nothing comes to mind. "What's the Neoma tree?" I demand Alex again, and he winces as if I were about to hit him.

"It's the one at the center of the city," Rydan answers, and I whip my head at him—the three of us do. "Marigold leaves?" He sighs when I'm stunned into silence. "The story behind it is that it bleeds real blood. Some say it's Solaris and Crello's blood from the creation of this world. Others think it's cursed and are waiting for the reincarnations of the sun and moon to bless it and make it sacred again."

The Marigold tree I've grown so fond of since the moment I stepped foot into the city. It's what captivated me the most, but I'd never learned through all my life that it had history behind it. Idris made sure to educate me well enough once he couldn't afford for me to attend the local village schools though I'm not so sure he even knew of it at the time.

"What I don't understand is how you two nitwits heard this before me!" Rydan hisses. "And how did they figure out it was the blood of that specific tree? No one is allowed even to touch it."

"Then," Jaron adds, running a hand through his long golden strands. "A Venator must have because apparently a shifter down in the dungeons was heavily injured with it."

Shit.

A grim taste fills the back of my throat. It's almost like something is squeezing my stomach as I remember the shifter, the vial, the blood.

The fairy blood... that wasn't even fairy blood at all.

Is this why Lorcan had asked where I got it from? Wondered why I had it?

For Ivarron, it doesn't come as a surprise to me. For as long as I've known him, he's handled things illegally for years, conned people from every village and town in Emberwell. Stealing blood from a supposed magical tree and passing it off as fairy blood is one of the many things he might have done in the past.

But... considering I am the one who ended up with the vial, why didn't Lorcan tell me?

"Can you let go of me now?" Alex's gaze darts to my fisted hand. I nod in a daze and release him, watching him trip and scatter away with Jaron deeper into the woods.

"I won't lie I truly thought you were going to kill—"

I spin, facing Rydan dead on. "What else do you know about that tree?"

He takes a quick step back and raises his palms. "Ambrose," he says slowly, eyes widening the slightest. "You have that murderous look again."

Tipping my head to the side, I glare at him incredulously.

"But I will say that I don't know much apart from what I said just then." He puffs a big breath. "Maybe one of these days, you'll see a preacher standing in front of it and asking if you are the one to bless it again. I once got asked, and obviously, I said yes—"

I stop listening to Rydan and tune into the sounds of snapping trees, the air thickening like a blast of heat. I turn to where all the Venators had ventured off into, and at that splintering second of sudden silence, shouts emerge followed by screams and a cry that definitely doesn't come from a human.

My stomach plummets.

Rydan's wide gaze meets mine as I look over at him and then... I launch myself into a sprint. I careen through bushes, slapping away leaves until I reach a clearing and set my eyes upon a few Venators bludgeoned on the floor with grass-stained almost black under the night sky.

I shift my gaze around, wary of the dragon nearby, although I don't want to imagine it did this in such a short amount of time.

Rydan's footsteps stop beside me, and he swears. His sword whistles as he draws it out further. "How many do you think are still alive?"

I stammer just as someone from the other side chokes and gasps out a plea. I jerk my head to look at one of the leaders—Zadkiel reaching his bloodied hand out to Rydan and me. I lunge towards him, kneeling as I assess where his injuries are coming from.

"It's going to come back," he rasps, and horror fills me as I focus on his knee bent the other way. I stare back at the blueness of his eyes, dimming as he repeats his words over and over.

I'm trying to cover his chest clawed at and spilling in blood just as Rydan hauls at me.

"He's still alive," he says, grabbing someone from under the arm and dragging them up to their feet.

It's Alex.

I search among others for Jaron but don't see him. Looking back at Rydan, I say, "Take him back and inform the others of what's happened."

"What about you?"

"I'll be there shortly."

He doesn't look convinced. Not even I am, but if there is a chance the dragon does come back, I want to help it.

"Go!" I exclaim hurriedly, and he grimaces, shaking his head as he turns with Alex, staggering out of sight.

"You should have left." Zadkiel coughs after a while, and no matter what I do, he won't stop bleeding.

"I didn't want to," I whisper when he grabs my arm, and his gaze cold as the life leaves them, stare at me.

"You need to know," he says, swallowing. "It wasn't... It wasn't a dragon that attacked us."

Dread swirls in my veins like a vortex before Zadkiel's hand goes limp from my arm, leaving a trail of blood as I breathe, "What—"

The wind gushes past me, warm until I know it's not the wind as a vibrating snarl pulses behind me.

It came back.

My breath trembles from my lips, and slowly I rise and turn on my heels to face inky eyes, skin like a snake but the head, body, and wings of a dragon.

Its mouth peels back, revealing sharp teeth, a clear, viscous liquid seeping from the canines.

Venom, like a Rumen.

It looked like a dragon was Adriel's words once. I believe him.

The creature lowers its head, the nostrils flaring to catch my scent. I stand frozen, remembering Adriel had also said they couldn't see, but just then, it stops, and jet-black eyes lock on mine.

Can it... see me?

It tilts its head, and recognition soon clouds my mind. The memory of me at my cottage, the day my father died, plays out again. The same eyes were on me, staring like it could sense me. I felt compelled to touch it back then, but my brother shot that arrow through its chest, and I lived with the scar I have from then on, hating all dragon forms to exist.

My chest now burns, and for the first time since that day, the same intense fear ripples out of me.

It was never a dragon...

It's always been the new breed.

The creature's gaze never strays, that fear replacing itself with the need to reach out to it like I'd done once before overpowers me. I stretch my arm to the center of its snout but right when I'm about to touch, a figure stumbling to stand catches me from the corner of my eye.

Jaron, his face scratched and unrecognizable as he draws back an arrow against his bow, aiming it toward the creature.

No, no, no, that will make it worse.

"Wait, don't!" I shout the order, but it's too late as he releases the arrowhead, and it rips through the air.

The creature shrieks, wings spreading, and with desperation, I unsheathe my dagger, raising it when its wing collides with my body and the weight sends me crashing back against a tree.

My front collapses onto the ground, and my ears buzz; my surroundings shake that it takes me a while to register a stinging pain disperse around my abdomen. I lift my head enough to see the creature now demolishing Jaron and forgetting I am here.

Screams and crunches of bones splitting and breaking echoes, but it won't be long before it's charging at me, and I can't die here. I can't let the same creature that killed my father kill me.

Scanning the forest, I look for a sign, for a getaway, when I remember something.

They can't see.

Just like a Rumen, they're blind, relying on scent, movements.

I spur into action, rolling onto my back and swallowing a scream as I drag my gaze down to a branch, thick in size protruding from my lower abdomen.

Dear Solaris, help me.

I know I have to take it out. I have no choice.

Letting courage take over, I tear the branch free from my stomach, covering my mouth as I let out a guttural cry into my hand. Agony pure agony shoots through my wound as I clutch it, and blood spools onto my fingers. Blowing a few quick breaths, I squeeze my eyes shut and lean on my side, but the pain almost makes me blackout.

Using my other hand, I dig through the dirt until I get to the sludge of it. I plaster the muck onto my arms, my face, and hair, then whimper as I let go of my wound to cover it as well, so it stops the bleeding.

There's a low growl, and I turn to stone as the creature's tail slithers among the leaves, searching and sniffing.

It nears me, and I start to pray as its head peers over my body.

Seconds go by, one.

Two.

Three.

I think it's all over for me until a rumbling roar resonates throughout the clearing. I feel it in every inch of my body, powerful and vicious, but it's not from the creature.

It's of a dragon.

The creature's head shoots up, as does mine and the dragon stands at opposite ends on all fours. Large with silver scales adorning the sides of its body while the rest is glistening in onyx.

It charges for the creature, and they clash, claws out, and shrills from the creature unleashing within its throat as they go at it.

I attempt to get up.

Nothing.

My legs are giving out, my head spins, and I rest on my back once more, staring up at the slightest bit of sky I can see. Light gleams above me orange, and shades of the sun flare in the air like fire. I manage a smile saying to myself, "Ardenti."

It's then when the smile fades, and I let my hand fall to the side as my breathing comes at a gasp with every inhale I take.

Maybe I'm dying. Maybe this is what it is like... Numbness taking over you.

I don't want to die here, not like this.

Nonetheless, I start to think of my brothers—Idris, how he'd never forgive himself if something happened to me. Illias and how lost he'd be when I've always protected him then Iker, who went to me for any issue he had because he could trust me.

A tear slides down the side and into my ear. I no longer hear any fighting between the dragon and the creature. I'm fading in and out of consciousness, but then an excruciating groan just about slips past my lips, and I feel hands come underneath my back and legs, scooping me up against someone's chest.

My arm latches around a neck while the other hangs lifelessly. "It wasn't a dragon," is the first thing I murmur, unable to see when everything looks out of focus—a dream.

"I know." It's the voice of a man, deep and distant. I recognize it, yet I try to shake my head because that is not what I meant.

It wasn't a dragon that killed my father. It was those creatures, I say in my head again, like a chant, and I want to voice that, but my eyes begging to close, shutter at last, and darkness swallows me before I can make out whose arms I'm in.