I’m grasping for something, something I can’t see in waves of blurry vision. Something I can’t hear since I’m underwater. But I know what it is.

  Kane.

  He saved me, and I left him to die.

  “Arh!” I open my eyes in a dark cabin, covered in my own sweat. Candlelight flickers from my knee jerk, and my lungs can’t fill with air fast enough.

  The last I remember, my Arkitus had returned twofold, but as I run my clammy fingers down my chest, I feel nothing.

  “He’s awake,” Boeru tells the other dragons, and their presence brightens in my mind’s eye one at a time. “Tell me, mortal. Do we cling onto a husk, or are you still in there?”

  “I felt it,” I say aloud. “The disease came back.”

  “And was just as quickly absorbed by a willing spirit,” Boe states, turning his head to reveal Sefene. Her orange wing is tinted black from the corrosion, but her golden bliss glistens over it to make a mesmerizing coating—like crystal over coal.

  “You did that for me?” I say. “Why?”

  “Because, Haledyn, my purpose in life, and in death, was always to rescue greatness,” she replies, eyeing her brother. “And protect potential.”

  Those words trigger all of the memories I experienced before waking here. My father trying to kill me. Misty falling—

  Boom!

  The rickety wooden door flies open to Scorius’ scowl appearing even more frightening under the amber light. “He wakes.”

  Footsteps follow quickly from another room. The creaking floors remind me of the sub-tier. Is that where I’ve fallen?

  I try to hop out of the bed, but just curling over ignites a fire from my abdomen down to my legs.

  “Sit, fool. You’ve suffered heavy mage damage,” Scorius growls, grabbing a tincture from the desk. White liquid swirling with black flakes means at least it’s not Shade’s Milk. “Drink.”

  I wince, grab the vial out of desperation, and chug it down.

  “Damn, Hale. Didn’t House Mother ever tell you not to drink strange liquids from strange people?” Jurso leans on the door, smirking at me.

  My eyes light up. “Thank the gods!” I cough out some of the terrible taste. It’s like charred metal liquefied in my mouth. “Where are the others?”

  Rogo pushes past the runt, a deep gash down his eye glistening in the light.

  I nod with fervor. “You can’t call Layla the Burnt Scar any longer.”

  He laughs heartily. “Welcome back to the living.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “I’m still not convinced this isn’t the beginning of the afterlife. But the dragons would’ve told me, I think.” Leaning to see who else is beyond the doorway, a dark figure fades into the light, showing a thin frame and beautiful emerald eyes I’ve been missing. “Ren.” And behind her, the soft blue ones I was too scared to ask for. “Layla! I thought the worst—”

  They walk into the room with sad smiles on their faces, saying nothing.

  “What?” I frown. “Hey, we’re missing a pipsqueak,” I say. “Bring in the firecracker.”

  When the others side-eye one another, my heart sinks into my belly. “Guys? Where’s Misty?”

  Layla slowly shakes her head.

  “No…”

  “Misteria Clause was not recovered,” Scorius says flatly. “And now you know the dangers of rushing into battle without knowing your limits.”

  I shut my eyes tight, choking back tears.

  Shit.

  It’s all my fault.

  “She knew the risks,” Boe says. “We are each responsible for our own fate.”

  I shake my head. None of what the dragon says sounds right. The guilt is immeasurable. It can’t be true.

  “We couldn’t find her in the chaos,” Renesta says. “Sefene and I searched.”

  “I, for one, refuse to believe she’s gone,” Jurso says casually. “I would’ve felt it in my bliss. We’re all connected.” He shows his mark.

  But the dragon’s dreary sentiment in my mind tells me that Jurso is just in horrible denial.

  Layla puts a hand on his shoulder, which he shrugs off.

  “What? You were fast asleep, princess,” Jurso says to Lay. “How would you know? Why is everyone looking at me like that? She definitely used her wind magic before hitting the ground. She’s literally in the best position to.”

  It was a good argument… but the spike through her shoulder made her body fall limp immediately. The rank differential was six or more. It was Head Magus at full strength.

  My gut wrenches tighter like a wet rag.

  Misty… all of her energy and spunk… gone. Just the idea leaves a gaping hole in the group. I’m the leader, though, and I have to have hope. I have to.

  “We’re not mourning anyone until we know for certain,” I say, finding my voice. “Misty is a valiant warrior, and we’ll head right back to Elshard to bring her to her rightful place.”

  Jurso nods at me. “I knew you’d see reason.”

  My heart aches at the sureness. It frightens me.

  “My brother?” I ask Scorius.

  “Lost to the seederborn,” Scorius says flatly. “Until they find a need for him again.”

  “He saved me, Prominent. He’s still in there.”

  Scorius’ frown deepens. “You and the bliss addict suffer your first traumas of war. A shame that such vital roles are so emotionally entwined in loss.”

  I push off the covers and force myself over the edge of the bed, ignoring the searing pain screaming at me to stop. “It’s what drives us.”

  Thankfully, the point of his cane to my chest pushes me uselessly back.

  “And what will ultimately kill you,” he says. “But not today it seems.”

  “Bliss me up and send me back, Prominent. I can break rank. My dragons are all ready,” I speak for them.

  “Fool! You don’t even know where you are.”

  “Back to the basement?” I shrug.

  Scorius wipes his cane over the wall, leaving a streak of warring dark that fades into a window of light. I shield my eyes until they adjust, and what’s in front of me is odd. Half-constructed towers and huts all around. People with wounds and high-society clothes building alongside one another. The sky is streaked with permanent bolts stuck in place, casting large shadows as the sun slowly shifts.

  Another set of slow-moving footsteps prompts us all to turn, and for Scorius to dissipate his warring dark window.

  “Showing our favored what I’ve built?” Casterban says, trying not to wince from the bandages around his belly. “That’s right, Haledyn, I’m one of the Elden mages who helped maintain the tiers. After seeing what they’ve done to the top ones, I would’ve been remiss not to conjure a failsafe.” He laughs into a cough, then pats everyone he walks by comfortingly. “I owe you all a grand apology for my part in tempering. And I intend to repay that starting now.”

  “I thought my father would kill you.”

  “Oh, Haledyn… that would be difficult, because I am your father.”

  The entire room gasps, but he only smiles and extends his arms around my friends. “Best be ready, my boy, because your first trip to the war-tier will be to end it.”