Onyx Storm (The Empyrean #3)

by Rebecca Yarros

The trembling stops as it clicks and I understand. “Except when I did. I was cut off from her while she slept all those months.” “Andarna.” He nods. “That makes sense. My signet doesn’t work on dragons, and I’m guessing yours doesn’t, either, so you unknowingly developed it on a human.” “On you.” I search his face for any sign of anger but find none. “I’m so sorry.” “You have nothing to apologize for.” He strokes my hair and holds my gaze. “You didn’t know. Didn’t do it on purpose—”

“You have to protect Dunne’s temple.” Aaric runs across the foyer, followed by two exasperated guards. “I have an entire city to protect.” “The temple is outside the walls.” He glances toward the open door. “If that’s where our orders—” “No.” He shakes his head, then seems to fight for words. “You have to protect the temple.” Is he fucking kidding me right now? “Did you make some alliance I’m not aware of?” I ask, backing away. Singling out Zihnal’s temple in the spirit of alliance is something I could understand, but Dunne? So help me Malek, if another Navarrian aristocrat has been making deals behind my back, I’m going to lose my shit. “It’s not—” he starts as a group of soldiers races past. “Violet!” Rhiannon yells. “We have to fly!” “Coming!” I call back over my shoulder before addressing Aaric. “Dunne’s temple attendants are skilled in protecting themselves.” “It’s how you save Tyrrendor.” Aaric’s voice drops to a whisper.

I gather it, condense it, burn with it, then summon more and more until I am light and heat and energy itself. “Not too much!” Tairn warns as I lift my right hand against the wind. But how can it be too much when I am the very thing I wield?

“It seemed necessary to fire your wardstone,” Leothan says. My stomach bottoms out. The irids have come.

Asher returned today. Gods help us if anyone finds out. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive him for what he’s done to her. —Journal of Captain Lilith Sorrengail

“Who spoke to you first?” My eyes shift, and I throw my thoughts back to Threshing. Step aside, Silver One. Tairn’s voice rumbles through my memory. “Tairn,” I whisper, turning my face toward Andarna. I take in everything about her, from the pattern of her scales, the slope of her nose, the angle of her eyes, up to the swirls on her horns that match his. “You didn’t speak to me until you gave me your name on the flight field.” She blinks. “See?” Leothan shifts his focus to Andarna. “Humans should only be capable of bonding a single dragon, and yet you forged a second connection where there shouldn’t be one. Only an irid can do that. Your instincts are excellent, but you need instruction. Break the connection and come with me.” My heart thunders like hoofbeats in my ears. “But Violet…” Andarna’s tone shifts from denial to… Amari help me, is that worry? I blanch as it hits me. She wants to go. Of course she does. He’s her family—the only dragon of her kind willing to accept her. I’m the one holding her back. “Her other bond will sustain her life,” Leothan states like that’s all there is between Andarna and me. “Should you choose to return, you can always reforge the bond.” When she doesn’t respond, he lowers his head to my eye level. “She is emotionally ensnared because of her age. What would you have her do?” Andarna ducks her head. “I…” Warmth drains from my face, but I keep my eyes on her, memorizing every detail like it might be the last time I see her. The possibility i...

Yearning floods the bond, so deep it aches within my own chest, and the pain of it sucks the breath from my lungs. I force my head to nod, feeling everything she can’t say. “I do not know how—” she starts. A shrieking whistle sounds in my head, and then only silence remains. I reach for the bond and find only a wall…then nothing. Andarna whips her head toward Leothan. He launches without warning, springing high above me. His wings snap open, and wind blasts my face as he gains altitude. His scales flicker, turning the color of the cloudy night sky, and he begins to disappear. Andarna roars up at him, and then her gaze swings wildly, focusing behind me, then to the right, then landing on me for the length of a heartbeat. Her eyes flare like she wants to say something, and I throw myself at the wall where our bond should be. But it’s gone. A breath later, so is she. All that’s left is a gust of wind as her scales blend into the sky. A roar vibrates my very bones, and my ears ring as the edges of my vision darken. My heart stutters, and my lungs cease their struggle. There’s no air and no reason to seek it. I was infinite yet moored, and now I’m hollow and adrift in waters too vast to comprehend. My knees buckle, then collide with the ground. “Violet!” someone shouts, and racing bootsteps register a second before she crouches in front of me, her brown eyes searching mine for answers I don’t have. “Are you all right?” I’m nothing.

I exist for Tairn, but I live for Xaden.

No rider has ever survived the loss of their dragon. I can’t imagine wanting to. —Colonel Kaori’s Field Guide To Dragonkind

Andarna is gone. I don’t leave our room for the next three days. I barely leave our bed. Andarna is gone. But I’m never alone.

She’ll come back, right? She has to. She isn’t dead. Leothan will ensure she makes it across the sea. And if she returns to find me like this, huddled in on myself, I won’t be worthy of her relic. If this is an emotional Gauntlet, I’m failing, but there’s no rope to grab to prevent my fall this time.

“I was whole and now I’m not.” My eyes sting, but I don’t cry. That stopped days ago. “She’s really gone.”

“You really opened the border.” My eyes widen on Xaden as my siblings continue to argue in the background. He nods once. “It’s what my father would have wanted.” But Fen didn’t actually do it. Xaden did. And I’ve been too lost in my misery to even know, let alone support him in an act of blatant treason. My face falls. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” Xaden says, tilting his head.

“I think I know why riders die when their dragons do.” His fingers pause before he continues. “Why?” “It’s not just the deficit of power,” I muse, cupping the bathwater with my hand, then letting it flow out between my fingers. “In that moment, I didn’t know who I was, where I belonged, or why I should bother breathing. If Tairn hadn’t grounded me, I think I would have willingly floated away. I still can’t comprehend the enormity of her absence. I don’t know if I ever will. I can’t see past it.”

You have Aretia,” Mira hisses. “I went to the only other living member of our family because all I have are a few of Mom’s journals, and there are months missing, Brennan.” “He recognized the bracelet as belonging to your grandmother, and it went downhill from there,” Xaden fills me in. “So Mom didn’t journal for a couple of months. So what.” He shrugs. “Did you ask Violet if she has—” “The months are missing in the middle of the book,” she counters. “And they’re from the summer Mom and Dad left us with Grandma Niara. Mom purposely didn’t write anything.” Wait. I’ve read that journal, too. “That doesn’t mean—” Brennan starts. “I was eight,” Mira interrupts. “And it was just you and me, remember? Violet was too little to stay. When they returned, Grandma stopped speaking to them.” “Want me to figure out…” Xaden lifts a brow and glances in my direction. “No.” I shoot him a warning look. “That doesn’t mean they hauled her to Dunne’s temple and dedicated her.” Brennan shakes his head with disgust. “That’s been illegal since the two hundreds.” Dedicated. Gravity pitches and my balance shifts, like the stone beneath my feet has suddenly become sand. It is good we did not complete your dedication. The Unnbrish high priestess’s words ring through my head, as does the memory of her silver hair, just like Theophanie’s, just like mine.

—and one of those paths…” Mira runs him right over, shaking her head. “They refused to take her. And I’ve been requesting temple records for months, but of course none of them would list a child, let alone a Sorrengail.” My mind races, putting together pieces of a picture that I have no desire to see but am somehow a part of. Brennan glances my way and blanches. “Mira—” “The priestess spoke all cryptically but basically said if Violet chose her future poorly, she could still earn their mentorship, but she’d turn—” Mira continues. “Mira!” Brennan gestures toward me. Her startled gaze whips in my direction, and she flinches. “Violet,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean for you to… I’m sorry.” “Turn what?” I demand. There’s only one turn that comes to mind. She looks at Xaden. “Do you want to give us a second?” “Stay.” I lean into him as my thoughts spin. “No,” he answers Mira. “Turn venin?” I guess. Mira presses her lips into a tight line. “You wouldn’t find any records at our temples,” I say slowly, heaviness settling in my chest. “Because they never tried to dedicate you,” Brennan assures me, glaring at our sister. “They did.” I nod sluggishly. “It just wasn’t here. They must have taken me to Unnbriel. It explains why you think my hair grew in like this, and the wild things that priestess said to me before she sliced my arm open.” “No.” Brennan puts his hands on his hips. “Dad thought you were perfect, and he said that parents used to dedicate their infants to ...

I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive him for what he’s done to her. Oh gods. They’d never seen dragons until our squad arrived. “Mom didn’t take me.” My eyes sting at the unexpected betrayal. “Dad did.” A horrified laugh bubbles up through my throat. “It’s why he told you that little piece of history, Brennan. In case you needed to put it together. It’s why he sent me there with those books.” I look to Mira. “I don’t think any of us actually knew our parents.” I blink. “Is that why you’ve been so distant lately? Why you constantly look at me like I’m going to grow a set of horns? Because you think I’m going to turn at any second?”

“She said the heart that beat for you—or within you—would do the wrong thing for the right reason, reach for unspeakable power, and turn dark.” My lips part. “Within her or for her?” Brennan asks. “Isn’t it the same thing?” Mira challenges. “Violet’s at risk of turning, and with power like hers—” “Stop,” Xaden says, and my head snaps in his direction. “It’s not Violet. It’s me.” “No!” I shout down the bond, fear grasping me so tight my head lightens. “My heart beats for her,” he tells Mira without so much as flinching. “I reached for unspeakable power. I turned. I’m the dark wielder she warned your father about, not Violet. Stop treating her like she’s a liability. I’m already the problem.” Oh fuck. Mira’s eyes sharpen on him, then me. “He’s not serious.” “He is,” I confess, my voice barely a whisper. “He’s the reason we survived Basgiath.” “Since December?” Her eyes bulge as she unsheathes the alloy-hilted dagger at her thigh. “No!” I move in front of Xaden. “He’s stable.” “He’s venin!” Mira lifts her blade. “I don’t take kindly to blades being lifted toward Violet.” Xaden sweeps me to his side. “Like I’m the dangerous one?” She flips the dagger in readiness to throw, and power rushes into me. “Brennan, are you—” “Don’t,” my brother says softly. Mira pauses and turns at the tone of his voice, understanding creeping over her face. “You knew?” Mira’s gaze jumps from Brennan, to Xaden, to me, hurt and shock mixing in a lethal combination. “He’ll kill you,” she says to me fin...

But even harder than taking a life is doing nothing while one is extinguished beside you. Keep your eyes forward, Mira. —Page seventy-one, the Book of Brennan

“That’s why we’ll fail. Because you will choose everyone over yourself, and he will choose you over everyone.” My stomach hollows.

“And above all else, we need you to understand that you cannot save everyone and you cannot stray from your orders.” I’ll do whatever it takes to save Mira. “Fine.”

“That wasn’t the deal.” Theophanie tsks. “I said we’d let Draithus stand, not that your sister would live.” Her mouth curves in a sadistic smile. “First thing to learn about us is that we’re careful with our words. And the second? We also lie.” She draws the blade across Mira’s neck and slits her throat.

Sloane. A shard of hope pierces the terror wrapped around my heart. She races our way, reaching into her flight jacket and retrieving a cylindrical parcel the length of her hand. “Aaric told me you’d need this—” She stumbles as she catches sight of Mira. I don’t give a shit why she’s here. Only that she is. My eyes prickle. “Please.” Sloane’s fearful gaze snaps to mine.

“Eyes here,” Dain says, and Sloane looks his way. “Pull from the excess you feel in me, and push to the deficit in him. You’re not a weapon of destruction. You’re not venin. You’re the artery power chooses to flow through. You’re life.”

I slip Aaric’s package into my flight jacket pocket and watch as Brennan walks away. Weird. There’s no mark at the back of his neck like he carries on his palm. There hadn’t been one on Dain’s wrist, either.

The only thing more stubborn than a dragon is its rider.

“He does not wake,” Tairn announces, and Cuir lowers his green snout to Teine’s. Oh shit. Fear comes racing back.

She hadn’t controlled the lightning during their assault on Suniva. She’d controlled the very thing causing it. “Of course I’m not.” Theophanie flicks a finger, and the clouds above us begin to rotate. “There is only one exception to the rule, Violet Sorrengail. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be you. If it was going to be one of her daughters, I’d have bet on your sister.” “Amari help us.” Bodhi’s hand slowly lowers, and his gaze jumps skyward. “She isn’t the dark wielder version of you.” “No.” I shake my head as the next gust of wind nearly pitches me forward. I’ve prepared for the wrong fight. I know the feel of lightning charging, recognize the crackle in the air just before it strikes. I understand the limits, the boundaries of wielding it. Each strike requires its own burst of energy, and once it’s over, it’s done. But what Theophanie’s doing will take on a life of its own and carry forward long after she’s given it her power. This is so much worse than battling myself. “She’s their answer to my mother.” Saying it out loud snaps the shock from my system, and my mind begins to race. Only Aimsir’s exhaustion or a physical illness weakened Mom. Not even the strongest wind wielder could diminish Mom’s storms. “She was the answer to me,” Theophanie hisses, and the clouds start to swirl. The tornado. My chest clenches. My mother had never accomplished that particular feat. No wonder I hadn’t recognized Theophanie for what she is—I’d never met a more powerful stor...

“Your mother knew at your age that she was no match for me. That’s why she hid behind those wards. Perhaps you should have followed her example.” Theophanie’s jagged nails dig into my skin and the veins beside her eyes bulge as she looks south. “A few seem to have gotten by. Whatever will you do?”

I glance south just long enough to witness the horde disappearing into the valley. “You’re right. I can’t be everywhere.” Theophanie’s eyes widen as I arch my neck against the blade. “I don’t have to be.” When push comes to shove, I’m not the best of us. She is.

No matter how much Violet means to me, she’s one life. We’re guarding thousands who are fleeing as my family had, and we owe them the same protection.

“Not in the way you want.” She tilts her head. “We’re excellent actors, but our kind doesn’t feel what you call love.” That gets all my attention. “You’re lying.” I would know. “Ah, there it is.” A cruel smile tilts her mouth. “Battles are lost by our weakest warriors, and that’s what he makes you—weak. Now that I know where you’re vulnerable, we can begin.”

“Lesson one. To survive in our world, you must protect the magic that sustains you. Do you know how to keep from being drained by this method?” She splays her palm on the ground, and the earth slowly desiccates. Grass turns gray and crumbles. Ground shrivels and cracks, swallowing the rain. The infection oozes outward from her hand, slowly devouring inches, then feet. I retreat a single step, then realize how wrong that instinct is. She can turn up the speed at any second. She’s just playing with me. “It’s simple, actually. Occupying ground that has already had its magic repurposed creates a barrier.” She lifts her silver brows. “The easiest solution is to drain it yourself. If you do so before I get there, you’ll live. You’ll keep your love—at least what it masquerades as—and your power, and even your dragon if you wish.”

Aetos jumps to his feet and draws his remaining dagger. “I’ll take that one. You get the one in the tower.” He glances at the stone shield, then breaks into a run, and I follow, sprinting as fast as I can. “And we’re going to talk about whatever the fuck that just was later,” he shouts over his shoulder, but I’ve already passed him, using lesser magic to boost my speed.

Quinn turns toward me, her dark-green eyes impossibly wide as she looks at her chest. No. The venin’s blade is lodged between her ribs in the vicinity of her heart. The world around me slows as she sways toward the wall, her horrified gaze finding mine. “No!” I shout, throwing myself at her so it’s me she falls against, and my back scrapes stone as we slide to the floor of the step. I cradle her as carefully as I can, locking my right arm around her back so she doesn’t fall. “Quinn, no

A roar vibrates the stone at my back. Cruth. “There are no menders here, and no runes for this,” she says with that damned reassuring smile of hers. “This is one thing you can’t fix, Gen.” Her face contorts with pain and I swear I feel it in my own chest, rending muscle and stripping my veins before it passes and her breaths grow shallow. “I need you to tell Jax that I love her.” “No.” I wipe away the tear that slides from my eye before it can reach her hair. “You tell her. You’re going to graduate in a couple of months, and then you’ll marry her in that pretty black dress you picked out, and you’re going to be happy.” “Tell her she’s been the best part of my life—” Her mouth curves and she glances past me. “You don’t count, Cruth. You became my life.” She brings her gaze back to mine, and the color drains from her face. “Please, Gen. She’s with the officers in the south, and I won’t…” I nod. “I’ll tell her.” This can’t be real, can it? How can this be real? “Thank you,” she whispers and relaxes against me, her blinks slowing. “Tell my parents it was worth it. I’m glad it’s you with me. Parapet to Malek’s own doorstep. I’m so sorry I have to go first this time.” Her breathing garbles. “And you should tell him, Gen. Tell him, and you find some happy.” “Quinn—” My voice shatters. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me,” I beg, wiping another tear as my vision blurs and clears. “You’re my best friend, and I love you. Please stay.” This is not how she ends, not in some dark stairwell in Dr...

Hi! I’m Quinn Hollis. I’ve decided we should be friends. That’s what she said to me as we climbed the turret on Conscription Day. You do realize we’re about to cross the walkway of death. Well, then it might be a short friendship, but we’ll make it a good one.

A gift from one servant of Dunne to another. I must warn you—only those touched by the gods should wield their wrath. I will pray to Her that she need not use it to avoid reacquainting herself with the other who curries her favor. Her path is still not set.

“Sgaeyl!” Tairn bellows, his wings losing their rhythm, and my heart skips a series of beats. Oh Malek, no. I hurl myself at the bond, but the wall of ice doesn’t just stand firm; it repels me with brute force. Dread nails my stomach to the floor as we lose speed— I hear the snap a second before the shadow falls over us. No, not a shadow. A massive net with weights the size of desks attached along the edges. Tairn roars and banks left, but it’s no use. “Tairn!” I scream as the net hits, smashing my torso downward onto the pommels and covering every scale I can see. He’d be able to bear the weight of it easily on his torso, but it smothers his wings, and the weights… Oh gods. “Tuck your wings or they’ll break!” His roar of indignation shakes the rocks loose from the mountainside, but he snaps them closed, tangling in the net. And we fall. “Prepare yourself!” Tairn warns as the mountain flies by in a blur. Andarna. Xaden. Sgaeyl. Mira. Brennan. My friends. They slip through my mind in a whirl of pictures I can’t grasp on to, flickering too fast to fully feel. All I can do is ease off the pommels, lean right to spare the inevitable impact to my abdomen as the thick rope of the net digs into my back. “You have been the gift of my life,” I tell Tairn. “It is not over!” he shouts.

For when you lose yours. Strike in the dark, Violet. What the fuck? The fall has broken the wax seal, and the parchment unrolls as I loosen my grip, dropping a carved piece of gray marble in my lap—a ceremonial-looking dagger with familiar flame-shaped etchings along the hilt. I glance at the accompanying note from the high priestess of Dunne’s temple in Aretia, but the letters blur as the pain in my arm flares and Tairn thrashes to free us. A gift from one servant of Dunne to another. I must warn you—only those touched by the gods should wield their wrath. I will pray to Her that she need not use it to avoid reacquainting herself with the other who curries her favor. Her path is still not set.

“Brought low by a net?” Theophanie mocks, striding toward us. “How easy it was to catch the pair of them.” The pair? The scream. “They have Sgaeyl, too.” Tairn’s rage washes over me like acid.

My heart stutters. Use the very thing that’s taking Xaden from me? I never dreamed that taking every possible path to cure him would lead to his choice. The fire devouring me from the inside out threatens to consume my very bones, and for a second, I debate letting it. I couldn’t stop my mother, and I can’t stop Xaden. I can’t save him.

Aaric’s note said… Like he knew this would happen. I gasp as all the pieces click in one overwhelming heartbeat. The reinforcements. Telling me to guard Dunne’s temple. Yanking Lynx out of the way before the doors even opened to the great hall. He knew. He’s been manifesting this entire time. “He’s a fucking precog,” I whisper in awe. A real one—not like Melgren, who can only foresee battles. If Aaric wields true precognition, he saw this, and he gave me a weapon made of the fractured temple—a temple Theophanie can’t step inside. I don’t believe in oracles, but I do believe in signets.

A wall that snarls. Scales shimmer to the same silver-blue as my strike, and a small dragon stalks toward Theophanie, her head low, teeth bared. And just like that, my stammering heartbeat stabilizes. Andarna. Theophanie reaches out her hand, wonder lighting her red eyes. I don’t care what her intentions are—she’s not getting her hands on Andarna. Pain wraps me in a broiling vise and fire sears my lungs, but I hold the bolt and sprint. Andarna leaving was one thing; losing her to the touch of a dark wielder is incomprehensible. “Irid,” Theophanie whispers with reverence, straining toward Andarna. I lunge, driving the dagger straight into her heart. Fire breathes through me, until I am char and cinder and agony. She staggers backward and starts to laugh. Then she sees the blood and stops. “How?” Her eyes flare, and she topples to her knees. “Stone doesn’t kill venin.” “You were never just venin,” I reply. “Dunne is a wrathful goddess to high priestesses who turn their backs on Her.” She opens her mouth to scream, then desiccates in an instant. I release the bolt, plunging us into darkness and surrendering to the fire burning me alive. “Violet,” Andarna whispers. And then I hear nothing.

But the one who walks forward toward Panchek’s cowering, traitorous ass, putting himself between Sgaeyl and me… He’s a problem. Not because he’s more lethal. Not even because he’s supposed to be dead. But because I. Can’t. Kill. Him. I could no more raise a blade to his throat than I could Violet. The bond between Violence and me is the kind of magic that has no explanation. The bond between Berwyn and me is the kind that should never exist, and now that my Sage has another sibling he can use against me…I’m screwed. “Watch carefully, my initiate,” Berwyn says to me over his shoulder, baring the scar down the middle of his face from when I threw him into the ravine at Basgiath.

“I’m the only one who can give you access to your son.” “I have another.” Berwyn stabs deep between the dragon’s scales, and it desiccates, green draining from its scales and shrinking in on itself to a husk. Terror busts through the ice. Berwyn just killed a dragon with a dagger. How the fuck is that possible? “Were you watching? Because that’s exactly what’s about to happen to yours.” He turns to me and saunters toward Sgaeyl as she thrashes futilely under the net. “You’ll have to channel deep to replace the loss of her power.” He lifts the blade, and I don’t just skate over the ice. I become it.

I’ve never felt so strong and so defeated at the same time. This was the only way. I rise to my feet and release the shadows, and the canyon comes into view.

“Yes,” Sgaeyl says slowly, her head moving in a serpentine motion. “But she will survive.” She pauses. “They have completed the wards, but they extend no farther than Draithus.” That’s good. Bad. Fuck, I don’t know. What even am I? Hers. “Persuade Tairn,” I beg. Everything depends on it. “We will ask,” Sgaeyl finally says, flexing her claws in the rocky soil. “And her decision will determine our fate.” Those are terms I can agree to. We’re airborne in less than a minute.

Xaden wouldn’t do that. Would he? The storm of shadows. My blood chills. How far had he gone? I fling myself down the bond, but there’s nothing there. It’s gone. Or he’s too far away to feel it, I remind myself to keep from panicking. When had he put this ring on my hand? “It’s an official blessing of your legal, binding marriage,” Brennan whispers, stunned, then quickly rolls the parchment. “By the head priestess of Dunne’s temple.” “To Xaden?” Gravity bends, warping everything I thought I knew into whatever this reality is. Brennan nods. My eyes flare. We’re married

Don’t look for me. It’s yours now. He’s gone.