RISE: B1 — 1. Storming Nightmare

RISE Rewrite Index

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Ayla stood still, her boots coming to a stop atop the damp stone pathway as she gazed across Windscar. The city, carved into the black obsidian side of the mountain, seemed like a labyrinthine fortress. It wasn’t just home—it was a place both open and alive with energy.

Her breath misted in the cold air as she turned her gaze upward to where the cavern’s ceiling arched, high above, barely visible through the perpetual mist and the flickering lights that dotted the hollowed-out walls.

The streets wound in a vast, spiraling pattern, curving up the mountain in layers—each tier housing her people, the stormlands people. From the traders and pilgrims on the lower streets to the craftspeople and scholars on the mid-levels, and finally, to the soldiers and Beast-Bonded elites near the top, closest to the exit path to the highlands peak.

Even now, she could hear the distant sound of flowing water—the waterfalls that snaked down from above, feeding into the carved ravines that crisscrossed the streets. The water was both a blessing and a curse—life-giving, yet a constant reminder of the storm that raged beyond their shelter.

She felt a chill as she watched the tempest surge through the narrow windows chiseled into the mountain’s face. Other than the entrance and exit, these openings, reinforced by thick metal rods, were the city’s only vision into the outside world, the only way to see the ferocity of Soul’s Tempest that lashed at the city day and night.

The storm was endless, a living entity, some believed, that felt like a curse as much as it was their protection. It kept enemies at bay and empowered their guardians, but isolated them, trapping them within these cold, black stone walls.

Why does the city look so…whole? Shouldn’t there be a lot more damage…

The nagging feeling in her chest grew stronger, and she scanned the faces of the people moving by—pilgrims, traders, and soldiers—all bundled in waterproof gear, their heads bent against the cold wind that managed to seep in through every crack.

Windscar looked…pristine, like a memory from the past.

Where are the tempest surges? The cavern should be more exposed, the wind should be ripping through here… Something’s coming.

A hot gust of wind abruptly struck her, forcing her to shield her face as steam hissed past. Squinting through it, her eyes widened when a bridge cracked and molten rock replaced a waterfall—the cavern wall began to burn bright orange. 

“Ayla!”

“Hmm?”

She blinked, the red tint overtaking her environment vanished as she stared at her pouting cousin. Amaris ducked under a nearby silk net shelter, pulling off her electro-silk hair cap to wring out her dyed silver hair and adjust her waterproof clothes. “There you are. I asked if you think white glory flower dye washes out faster than the oak gall green one? I dyed it for you, so we’d match. C’mon. Be honest.”

Ayla sighed, the vision slipping out of her thoughts as she put a hand on her hip and looked her cousin up and down. Amaris grinned and pulled back her hood and cap again to display it. Her attempts at trying to present her totally drenched wad of hair due to not being able to wear her waterproof silk cap for a few hours left Ayla snickering inside; it needed a good combing session.

“You’re such a liar,” she said with a playful glare. “You didn’t do that for me. You want my big brother to compliment you.”

“Oh, shut up!” she huffed, her smile falling into a glare. “The dark green lasts the longest so far, and this stuff is new from the lowlands, so…I wanted to see if Kael thought the highland boys would find it cute. You know…since he’s been there for five cycles. I heard more highborn are taking wives from the stormlands.”

“Uh-huh…”

The uncomfortable vibes rolled through her again, causing her to take another look at her surroundings while her cousin fumed. What happened a moment ago? It was as if someone had partially painted over another art piece. Windscar’s layout wasn’t built for comfort. It was built for survival, and it showed.

Ayla’s eyes moved to the spires that shot up from various points around the city, each one connected by arcs of lightning that crackled and flickered, feeding the power grid that lit the streets and homes. Lightning Rods, designed to harness the energy of the storm.

She knew how important they were—how they kept the lights on, how they powered the forge crystals that the blacksmiths relied on. Yet, seeing the flashes dance between the rods, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all so…fragile.

It wasn’t just the lightning rods or the storm. It was the city itself. Built into the mountainside, Windscar was protected by sheer geography. But Ayla felt an unusual thing for her, especially in such a safe place, something she hadn’t felt before… She felt as if it was on the verge of collapse.

The Stormpeaks, jagged and unwelcoming, surrounded them, forming a natural barrier of stone, laced with black metal, and protected by their giant guardians.

Her gaze settled on the Tempalis cavalry soldiers, their raven lords stalking through the streets, their metallic feathers shimmering with sparks of electricity as they passed. The raven lords were awe-inspiring, yes, but they weren’t enough to make her feel safe. Not from the storm, not from the unseen threats she could feel gnawing at her mind that shouldn’t be there.

We’re safe… We’ve been safe forever. So… Why am I having this feeling of unease? Why are everyone’s faces so blurry? Wait… 

Mind blanking, she looked around before settling on her cousin’s sparkly locks. Why does Amaris look smaller? Wow, I’m a mess.

“It’s not even white,” Ayla snickered, trying to focus on her again while moving closer to examine the silvery glint. “I think your original red hair is the best looking on you…but—”

“Yeah, no!” Amaris shut down, pulling away to comb out her tangled locks with her fingers and trying to keep out of the occasional hail of rain that came from the waterfalls. “Red hair is fashion death in the stormlands, and you know it. Are you trying to get me picked on by Elise’s group?”

Ayla tuned her cousin out as she started going on a rant. The gut-cramping feeling had returned, and she glanced over at a nearby waterfall. The rain trickled down the ridged roofs, the sound far too vivid and loud. She momentarily followed their path, funneling into the carved channels that snaked through the streets, feeding the deep water basins.

The storm drain system spread throughout the city ran deep into the mountain, designed to prevent flooding in the perpetual hurricane they lived in. But Ayla had always hated the dark, winding tunnels that snaked below the city from their mining operations over the centuries, feeling more like trap-filled labyrinths than protective infrastructure.

There were so many places in the city that felt vulnerable—like the carved stone bridges that connected various sections, suspended high above the ravines, unaffected by the powerful gales that fed through the city’s openings. But no, they were too soft, too quiet. Something wasn’t right.

The mid-levels—the heart of Windscar—were where most of the people lived. Families huddled in narrow homes carved directly into the mountainside, their walls lined with simple, unadorned furniture made from whatever resources could be gathered from the lowlands or cliffs.

It was a harsh life, but the stormlands people were used to it, toughened by the relentless winds and the constant threat of being carried away by wind or rain. There was no escape from the storm, only moments of reprieve within the stone walls.

Ayla’s mind flickered to the Highlands, far above where the bronze-skinned highborns lived. The few people she knew who had visited there talked about how the sun pierced through magical clouds, how the land flourished with warmth and light, a stark contrast to the constant gloom below. It was hard to imagine. Ayla had never known anything but the cold and the storm.

All was in order. Everything was normal. Yet, something felt…off to Ayla.

She paused, blinking and trying to work through her drifting thoughts as things became hazy. Why am I here again? Right, Amaris just got off mushroom duty.

Her gaze drifted upward one last time, toward the storm clouds swirling outside, beyond the city walls. The sky was always blackened, always thrashing with violent energy. This is home… but why does it feel like I’m about to lose it?

Ayla blinked again and looked to her right. Her pale-skinned cousin reflected the standard tone of their sun-deprived people in the stormlands, vulnerable to sunlight. In her stupor, the world blended together as she scanned the people moving by. They looked so unlike the sunkissed lowlands people or bronze-skinned highborn.

It was easy enough to spot the different people by their skin tone: sunkissed meant they lived in the lowlands. The pale-skinned residents of the primary production area lived in the stormlands. And the highborn with bronze skin, who made their home at the peaks of the mountain ranges of Stormpeaks, basking in the magic-enhanced sunlight and warmth of the highlands.

Ayla found Amaris too busy fussing with her hood again to notice her confusion, studying the city as the winds changed course. It sent misty rain pelting over them from the waterfalls, not that Ayla cared. Wiping the wet away from her face, she scanned the primary road of Windscar that wove in a wide circle up the entire mountain, searching for what was bothering her.

Should I be standing around doing nothing? It’s not like me…

Tempalis soldiers on their fifteen foot tall raven lords were easily visible. Their talons clicked against the hard stone floor, the powerful and flightless birds towering over the bustling stormlands population. Her gaze fixated on their blade-like feathers, glistening in the pale overhead light and sparking with charged electricity.

The mounted cavalry of Tempalis were nothing near the legendary status of the Celestials, beasts of mass destruction. Nor were the raven lords’ soul-bound riders comparable to the Skybound heroes of their Celestial birds, but they were more than respected.

The raven lords and their riders were silent, the Tempalis cavalry soldiers transporting specialized goods between zones. It was in direct contrast to the horses of the lowlands crews, who transported more standard materials.

Ayla’s focus lingered on one of the bird’s lengthy tail feathers, one much larger than the others which could be wielded like a colossal sword. There are soldiers and guards around the city, so why do I feel so…uneasy? What am I missing?

Ayla’s focus drifted back to the city as her cousin glanced at her and sighed, fingers moving to manage her own hair. Obviously, Amaris wanted her to ask about her changed style. However, something about this didn’t feel real, as if she were living in the past.

It’s too quiet. Where are the tempest surges and why is the cavern not more exposed?

She stared at the people that passed them, most who lived in the stormlands were like them, wearing waterproof fabric and leather, designed for the perpetual tempest between the two zones. The main road saw people from the lowlands and highlands, hiding their tan or bronze skin under thick cloaks.

The black metal rods in the few open sections caught her attention from flashes of light that met them. They were windows into the continual tempest outside, chiseled out of the thick walls that protected the city to provide power for the light network and forge crystals.

Lightning arced between the rods, sparks dancing along their length from the endless storm that covered the entire midsection of the mountain range. The streaks of electricity jumped through the wires and met diamonds fixed throughout the city, illuminating the mostly underground zone with an eerie, flickering glow.

It was home. Wait, shouldn’t it be only partially enclosed? No, she must be wrong. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary now that she took another look. Yet, again, something vibrated somewhere within her, a nagging feeling that told her things weren’t right.

Maybe it’s the stronger wind currents this week, she thought, pulling her leather hood further down against the cold gusts that howled through the nearby narrow alleyway. No, it feels like it’s in the ground… Something running up the stone to tingle along my spine. Danger?

She cast her eyes to the obsidian-black mountain walls the city was burrowed into, looming around them far above and in the distance. Their smooth surfaces mostly protected them from the forever storm stirred up by their Celestial guardians: the rocs, giant black eagles with power over storms. Not that the Celestial roc had always been the case according to the city elder who oversaw their orphanage.

Ayla could almost hear the elder’s voice in her head, lecturing her about their guardian birds of fire who could move faster than a roc and were immortal. Then there were his doom speeches about Skypoint Academy and its evils against their people. Most of it was fairytales and fear mongering to stop 20-cycles-olds from attempting to reach high society. It was always the young people’s fault there weren’t enough babies to keep things running.

According to his myths, the Solaraeth—their people—had only taken shelter with the Tempalis Kingdom and were protected by the Roc King due to the dragons. Many centuries ago, the Drakaris Empire attacked them and made sure their homeland was inhospitable, or so they were told. A betrayal since they’d supposedly been allies.

Ayla huffed indigently, puffing up her chest and her cousin seemed to resonate with her action, going on about a few other girls in the orphanage. However, her thoughts were on the old, wrinkled man trying to tell her about their ‘Solaraeth history’ and the wrongs of the Tempalis Kingdom. 

Sure, you have a high chance of dying at the academy, but it’s survival of the fittest and always has been. Newsflash, bonding with a Celestial roc is dangerous. Highborn die going through it just like stormlands or lowlands people do.

Kael’s a legendary Skybound already—the first Solaraeth to have bonded to a Tempest Queen! Times are changing. More Solaraeth are making it past the Initiation Ceremony than ever… We’re training younger and learning from those who did it. Kael proved it’s more than possible.

She glanced over at her animated cousin, fuming about how Triss—a much older girl, who was nearing her twentieth cycle and nearly capable of entering the academy—was spreading rumors that Amaris had red hair. Sure, it was something to punch her in the face for, not that it would turn out well for them due to their age gap.

In the end, the bitter woman was just pissed Kael didn’t look her way when he got back from active duty last week, so she was getting back at him by attacking his cousin. Amaris was just less prone to acting out than her, so she made for an easier target.

I should be more angry at Triss… I feel like I was angry at her before. So why am I so agitated about something else?

Ayla turned her focus to the environment again, the black walls glistening with traces of rare metal, strong enough to hold back the constant hurricane and even support roc without bending or chipping: thirty times stronger than steel.

I’m probably just feeling bloated from Redlight.

The puffy sight of Amaris’ pale face came into view, her light glare making Ayla sigh.

“You’re ignoring me!”

“Okay. Okay. Come here…”

“Hmm? Oh!”

Her cousin’s cheeks brightened as she bounced forward, allowing her to get a real look at her dyed hair, plastered to her head from the rain. Her attempts to untangle it had been met with heavy resistance. She needed to support her cousin. Although, all of this felt somewhat familiar, like déjà vu.

“It’s a mess, I know,” Amaris continued, “but Uelia, that baker on main street, told me crushed blue beetles make it super slick and easy to comb out. Thoughts?”

“The beatles? Yeah, maybe we can give it a shot. Did she mean the longwing ones or the short ones? And they really have a new silvery dye in the lowlands to copy my white hair? Also, personally, I thought green looked fine on you.”

Amaris shrugged while Ayla tried to clean up her rats nest. She scooted them off to the side of the road a bit more as a few women shuffled by, carrying packs of food to bring down to their mine worker husbands.

“Oh, I don’t know about the beatles. And yeah! The dye comes from a new flower they’re growing. When I was at the shelter earlier, the protestors coming up from the lowlands were talking about it. And, umm, yeah, it matches better since you won’t dye yours with me. It only takes an hour, and you can even read those engineering books from Skypoint during it that you like so much. C’mon! Sparkle silver with me!”

“Yeah, I’m not dying my hair, Amaris,” Ayla giggled. “Once a week and Kael beating my ass if I get the books wet that he checks out for me? No thank you!”

“Sure, whatever,” her cousin mumbled, clearly annoyed she was the only one in what remained of their family to go through the weekly process alone.

Ayla felt a little bad. Maybe I should join her… But it’s so much time over a month I could be training or reading…or doing anything else. Although, to be fair, red hair really does stand out in all the wrong ways. And all the old folks tell you it’s a bad omen, which Amaris believes in, and dragons will carry away redheads in their sleep. More fairytales to keep kids behaving.

“So,” Amaris redirected, brightening up a bit as more water splashed them in the face from the shifting winds, “what do you want for our fourteenth cycle? One of those yellow silk umbrellas from the highlands? I heard they don’t even catch the wind! Oh, or the sunglasses or goggles that your brother has? He can get some for us, right?”

Ayla glanced toward the street again, feeling that same cramping twist in her gut, but trying to remain focused this time for Amaris’ sake; it had to be monthly Redlight symptoms.

“Umm. Yeah-no, let’s go with something realistic, and as far as I know sunglasses are only for the Skybound and raven lord riders. Glow mushroom cake, maybe? I like the idea of blue tongues we can stick out at Peter.”

“Oh, bummer. Umm. Or…maybe thunder vine stew,” Amaris teased in return, nudging her shoulder. “Your hair would probably stand on end for a week! The dye treatment helps, I’m telling you.”

“Not going to get me to dye it.”

“You’re so mean!”

“Mhm…”

Ayla chuckled but felt something strange tugging at the edge of her mind, making her wince. The cold wind that always gripped the city began to warm, ever so slightly. It was subtle, yet she noticed it for some reason—a voice, deep and commanding, echoed in her mind.

“Run and hide.”

Her breath hitched and Amaris’ smile faded as Ayla held a hand to her head.

“What's wrong? Redlight? I can feel mine coming on,” she groaned, holding her belly. “Dreading tomorrow. And of course the bloating had to start on our cycle day. Um… Should I see if Kael is back? Your brother might have something from the highlands that could help. They say they have all sorts of stuff up there for medical things.”

Ayla scanned the streets while shaking her head. Her eyes darted over the pale, storm-weathered faces of the people who hurried past, heads down, shielding themselves from the wind. It all suddenly felt blurry, as if it wasn’t real.

Did I hear a voice in my head? That’s new… Do any of the other girls hear voices during their Redlight? Weird… No. No, I don’t think that’s normal.

The ground beneath her feet vibrated, faint at first, like the pulse of something massive far below the surface, like a couple of 50 foot tall roc landing against the side of the cliff outside. She felt it in her bones, in her chest—something was coming—yet Amaris didn’t seem to notice. Ayla’s heart pounded, white noise ringing in her head.

“You’re in danger. Run. You can feel it. They’re coming,” the voice repeated, firmer this time.

Before she could react, the air shifted again—this time, unnaturally warm. Her skin prickled with the heat she normally felt when the sun hit it; a sensation completely foreign in the cold, overcast stormlands. People around her stopped, confused, looking up at the sky through the few openings in the cavernous ceiling.

The world slowed as the screams started in the far distance, barely audible over the roaring wind. She turned, catching a glimpse of a raven lord stalking down the street, the Tempalis calvary bird towering over them.

The creature’s midnight-black feathers shimmered like polished metal, each edged with a razor-sharp gleam. The raven Lord’s flightless wings spread out like jagged blades, slicing the air as it walked past. Its talons scraped against the metallic and stone ground, sending sparks flying with every step; it was clearly agitated about something.

Ayla’s head snapped toward the sound, her heart racing, and that’s when it happened.

The high wall in the distance that blocked out the storm began to glow with an intense crimson light, and then, they started to melt. Lava oozed from the cracks, dripping from the ceiling in molten streams that hissed as they hit the rain-soaked streets, creating steam.

The stone bridge above them groaned as it warped and cracked, sending pieces of rock tumbling into the riverway. Bulky creatures were falling from it, raven lords and something else that shimmered red.

“Get down!” Ayla shouted, pulling Amaris toward the cover of a building.

But it was too late. The storm above them parted like a curtain, revealing the source of the heat, paralyzing her and everyone else in the entire city: a magical aura of fear gripped every soul. The silhouette of the most terrifying thing in the world descended through the parting dark skies, wrapped in an aura of flames: a dragon.

Its massive wings flared out, each one spanning hundreds of feet, casting the exposed city once again in partial shadows, yet the cold gale was replaced by hot wind and the blazing sun in the parted heavens.

The beast dropped lower, standing on its hind legs while peering inside, its body towering over the city and wings still unfurling in a menacing display. The creature’s eyes glowed with a fiery intensity, scales a deep, burning red that shimmered like molten metal.

And yet, despite the urge to run as fast as she could, Ayla couldn’t move. Its aura of fear gripped her like a vice, pinning her feet to the ground—all screams and shouts ceased as its presence washed over them in waves. No waterfalls fell now, only steam rose up to spiral outward.

Molten lava dripped from the dragon’s maw, sizzling as it hit the streets, and Ayla watched in horror as even the raven lords struggled to jump into action, talons digging into the ground. Yet, after several seconds, they burst free and jumped onto the higher elevated roads, but they didn’t turn toward the dragon, their shouts directed toward another enemy.

“Focus on the infernal drakes,” one shouted, “leave the dragon to the Skybound! Protect the civilians until they’re freed from its magic!”

Amaris stood stalk-still, her trembling frame pulling Ayla back to reality. We need to run… Why didn’t I run before? I can’t feel my body… I need to grab Amaris’ hand, and run! Move! Where are the Skybound?! Why are there no roc flying in the storm?! No, is this…a nightmare? I want out! Get me out!

A deafening roar filled the air, shaking the very ground beneath their feet and making most people around them collapse, unconscious. The dragon seemed bothered by the raven lords’ efforts, its gaze sweeping over them like insects, its fiery eyes searching for something.

“Run, you round-eared fool!” the voice in her head urged once more, but Ayla's legs refused to move. “Where is your mother’s courage, girl? Focus. Do not allow this lizard’s magic to steal your agency!”

Inferno drakes crawled through the gaping wound in the city’s defenses to meet the raven lords. The Drakaris’ mounted cavalry’s obsidian scales gleaming with an otherworldly sheen as they crawled over molten stone, riders on their backs.

Run! Her mind screamed. Something changed, though, an iron will deep within her that was gradually fighting past the terror. Move!

She broke free, gripping her cousin’s hand tightly, her knuckles white. Her breath came out in quick, shallow gasps as sweat pooled down her brow in the rising heat.

“Amaris, run!”

Her cousin wouldn’t budge; only she seemed to be able to move. Amaris’ pale skin was wet with rain, but her eyes were wide, unblinking, locked onto the fire-infused dragon.

No, no, no—this is wrong! This already happened! Why is it happening again?! Move, dammit!

Anger flaring in her gut, Ayla slapped her across the face. “Amaris, snap out of it!” she cried, making her cousin gasp and cry out as she stumbled to the side. “Amaris! Dammit! Get it together!”

“Ayla…” Amaris cried, catching herself and stumbling backward into the alleyway. “What do we—”

She choked as Ayla followed her gaze, locking onto an inferno drake as it rounded the street corner, segments of its plated hide broken and dripping hot liquid down its side. Her breath hitching as she grabbed Amaris’ arm and pulled her further into the alleyway, but it was too late.

The armored figure atop its backs spotted them; adorned in scaled armor that shimmered with the color of deep, swirling red, like blood and fire mixed into one, his gaze locked onto their retreat amidst the scattered crowd of paralyzed people.

“Two teen girls moving into the alley!” he shouted. “Pursue!”

Ayla’s mind snapped into focus, her pulse quickening as she took charge. This was no training exercise, no half-remembered lesson with Kael. This was survival.

She gripped Amaris’ hand tighter, yanking her cousin along the narrow alleyway, heart pounding as they darted between into the alley. 

Kael taught me better than this—panic gets you killed. Focus! Find a way out…

The sharp scrape of claws echoed behind them, growing louder with each step. It had to be one of those inferno drakes, slipping through the chaos like a shadow, hunting them down.

Ayla whipped her head to the side upon turning the corner, her hood flew back and she caught the glint of blood red. Her tied back white hair bounced behind her as she looked ahead, scanning frantically.

There—a storm drain!

The flow was weak, just a trickle of water spilling into the cavernous underbelly of the city. She didn’t have time to think.

“In here!” she barked, tugging Amaris toward the open hole meant for water; luckily, the bars were next to the side, meaning cleaning crews were supposed to be inside. The roar of the drake was closing in, the heat from its fiery maw licking at her back, yet it didn’t breathe its fire to sear them. “Get in!”

Amaris hesitated, breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps, her hands trembling as they jumped into it, landing on the platform several feet below. She winced, but they’d both explored these tunnels before and knew the distance they needed to brace for.

“Move!” Ayla shoved further into the actual channel below the walkway, the bright light of the exposed sun actually helping to brighten the zone from the openings along its length. “We need to get into one of the branch tunnels.”

“But if the water…”

“The water is not coming!”

Sliding in after her, they heard the drake slam into the ground behind them with a guttural roar, molten claws scraping the black stone but failing to crack through. Ayla barely had time to scramble to her feet before pulling Amaris further down into the dried riverway, the distant snarls of the beast chasing them through the tunnels.

“It’s gonna follow us, isn’t it?” Amaris whimpered, her voice breathless with fear, stumbling behind Ayla. “No, it’s too big. There’s no way…”

“The rider will. We need to keep moving,” Ayla hissed, her hand gripping Amaris’s wrist so hard it hurt. “Come on, we need to buy time. The Skybound will handle them.”

“Then where are they?!” Amaris demanded, stumbling over the slick, damp ground. “This is roc territory—they should be swarming that dragon by now in the dozens!”

Ayla didn’t have an answer for that. She was right, though. Forget their limited number of active Skyforged, the unbonded fifty-foot-tall black eagles themselves should be all over the area. Fel, the Roc King himself should be blackening the sky at this brazen invasion!

In any case, they were on their own, for now. She spotted a branching tunnel up ahead, barely big enough for a man to stand tall, and veered into it, pulling Amaris along with her.

The water was shallow here as they stepped up the small rise, only ankle-deep, but the stone walls pressed in close, damp and cold against Ayla’s skin; it felt nice compared to the heat that had assaulted them above. She slowed once they were out of sight, motioning for Amaris to stay quiet as she pressed her back against the wall, listening to the faint echoes of their pursuers.

Her heart raced, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Then she heard it—something splashing into the water, a heavy, deliberate sound.

Ayla pressed her finger against her lips, and they slid deeper into the shadows, feet moving carefully through the water to avoid making noise. Soon it grew pitch black, and they felt their way along the tunnel. The sound of pursuit somehow grew closer, and Ayla’s breath caught in her throat.

He’s tracking us somehow! There’s no way he could have known which tunnel we took.

Light. We’re getting near another storm drain. There—up ahead! A ladder. Ayla silently pointed, urging Amaris to follow.

Amaris didn’t argue, staying close while scrambling up the rungs with shaking hands. Ayla glanced back down the tunnel, catching a flicker of movement from one of the openings—a shadow moving in the water. Her pulse spiked.

She was almost to the top, Amaris behind her, when Ayla’s heart seized—something massive thudded against the ground above them just as she reached the top. Slowly, she poked her head out, eyes widening as she locked onto the looming form of the drake. Its tongue flicked out, inches from her face.

“Ayla?” Amaris’s voice trembled below, the fear in her cousin’s tone mirroring her own. “He’s below us.”

A deep, chuckling voice echoed up to them. “Good instincts and reactions for teens. Get your butt up there, girl, and behave or I’ll have to get nasty.”

Ayla swallowed, her body going rigid. Another glance to her left and right showed two more drakes crawling into the alleyway, their sleek forms glinting with molten red from above.

Complying, she helped Amaris out, squeezing her hand as they pressed against the side of the building. It was at that moment, the voice in her head returned.

“Perhaps there is potential. You bought enough time.”

A soldier climbed out of the manhole, a menacing grin curling his lips as he pulled off his helmet, revealing dark brown skin and a confident gleam in his eyes. He motioned to one of his men.

I’ve bought enough time? What does that even mean? This is a nightmare!

“Follow me into the street,” he casually ordered, tapping his sheathed sword on his hip. “Also, Tabris, toss me the sketch.”

Ayla’s breath quickened as one of the two other Drakaris soldiers passed him the parchment. He caught it without glancing back, prompting them out into the street—right into the sight of the looming omen of death and fire.

He unfurled the sketch, his eyes scanned it, then flicked to Amaris. A smile tugged at his lips. “She doesn’t have the green hair anymore…but it’s definitely dyed. We’ve got her. By order of the Dragon Emperor, you are to be—””

Ayla’s body moved before she could think, smacking his hand away as he reached for her cousin. “You won’t—”

Her words were cut off by a thunderous roar, the sound ripping through the city, shaking the ground beneath their feet and passing through them in waves. The drakes froze, eyes snapping upward as a flash of light blinded them all.

Ayla’s ears rang, and she fell to her knees. Realization hit her like a punch to the gut, but it felt hollow as all sound died. This is a nightmare…

Lightning split the sky, blinding her momentarily. When her vision returned, she saw the rider’s hand still outstretched, but his head—it was gone. A blackened stump replaced where it had been, smoldering as the body collapsed into the mud.

Ayla choked, her throat welling up with emotion as she shook her head. Pain unlike anything physical she’d ever felt coursed through her as all the soldiers and their mounts collapsed, dead on the spot, smoking piles of charcoal.

“No… Kael.”

Her brother stood there, sparks of electricity dancing off his sun-kissed skin, the same confident grin he always wore stretched across his face.

“What’s with that reaction, Ayla?” he asked, his voice calm, despite the chaos unfolding and the dragon’s infernal gaze on them. He bent down, supporting her and Amaris with a strength that felt so certain, so unbreakable, pulling them up.

Ayla’s breath shuddered as she shook her head, but everything around them was still in turmoil. The dragon loomed overhead, and more inferno drakes slithered from the molten chasm, crawling toward them as the sounds of the raven lords rallying echoed through the streets. With all of that, she only had one thought, and she couldn’t voice it.

Leave us, Kael! Please… Don’t fight him.

Kael followed her gaze and gave a reassuring nod. “Hey, what’s with that look, Sour Puss? It’s me! It’s okay… It’s going to be okay. Stay close to Amaris,” he softly urged, his hand moving to grip his blackened metal rod lodged into the ground from his initial impact—a weapon thirty times stronger than steel.

“No!” Ayla finally choked out, her hair flinging around her. “Y-You can’t fight that thing,” Ayla choked out, staring up at the massive lizard that waited to attack for some reason, snorting a plume of flames as if sighing at an inconvenience. The beast’s scales gleamed like molten metal, every flap of its enormous wings sending tremors and heat through the air. “It’s a dragon, Kael!”

Her brother’s grin widened as he bent down to kiss her on the forehead, making her throat seize while ruffling her dried hair. “Hey, don’t worry, Ayla. That guy’s not the only Skybound here. Nulina told me to get ‘em.”

Before Ayla could question him, storm clouds erupted from around her brother. Lightning, wind, and rain swirled in a torrent so fierce, it nearly knocked her off her feet, despite her brother’s protection. The air seemed to warp as the clouds darkened and condensed while rising into the underground cavern, forming for a colossal shape to emerge above them.

In a flash, Nulina—a roc Tempest Queen—appeared, towering seventy feet tall, her wings stretching out and casting the city into a tempest that countered the dragon’s fear aura, freeing the people. With a single beat of her powerful wings, Nulina whipped the flames into arcs that curled harmlessly around the walls instead of scorching the population.

The air buzzed with electricity as the great roc materialized, wind and lightning coiling in her wake that somehow acted to keep the population safe. The dragon roared, sending torrents of fire and lava to meet the Tempest Queen, but the flames were deflected from the black, lightning-fused tornado that swirled in front of the black eagle. The hurricane-like winds scattered it as Nulina dove toward the dragon, claws raised as the two titans clashed.

Ayla wanted to wake up—this had already happened—this was a nightmare. She needed  to flee from the destruction and chaos, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the battle, from her brother. Kael stood tall, his black metal rod humming with energy.

A streak of fire shot out of the tornado that battered against the dragon before the creatures faced one another in the sky. The Dragon Raider Skybound landed in a wave of heat and molten fire beside the corpses of the inferno drakes Kael had dispatched in an instant.

His armor glinted like molten stone, his brutal, jagged halberd resting loosely in his grip. Silence passed between them for a moment before the man sneered at her smirking brother, the raider’s voice booming over the storm of the battle between the Tempest Queen and dragon outside.

“None of the Tempelis Skybound were supposed to be here… Much less a ‘legendary’ Storm Queen and her rider. Do you really think you can protect her from her fate?”

Kael chuckled softly, spinning his rod effortlessly in one hand and causing electricity to spark around them. “Do you think the Dragon Emperor has learned from his mistakes?”

The armored man tilted his head to the side, voice lowering, “Boy, you may have generational talent and were trained by The Great Equilibrium…but you are five hundred cycles too early to face me. Don’t waste your life here when it’s not needed.”

Kael half-turned to glance at her, his smile returning and making her chest throb. “Ayla…take care of Amaris. I’ll win.”

The words jolted her, and Ayla sat up in bed with a half-stifled cry, tears running down her face. A fit of coughs ensued as she shifted to the side, blood splattering her sheet.

The sounds of the Soul’s Tempest roared into focus, louder than it had been in her living nightmare six cycles ago. Sweat covered her small bunk, loss in her heart as the past events opened up like a new blade across an old scar.

You did win, Kael… But why did you have to die?

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