Author: Jodi Meadows

I would reach the dragons. And I’d convince them to help.

The others spent the day discussing routes and gathering enough food to last a few days, because clouds threatened snow. Sylph helped wherever they could, but kept shooting me little whines of disappointment.

After supper, everyone found their sleeping bags and tucked themselves in for the night. Sam gave me a long, weary look, and I remembered again that he’d stopped believing in me.

“Get some rest,” he whispered. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

As if they hadn’t all been long. Yet still too short.

I burrowed into my sleeping bag, zipped it up all the way, and muffled my sobs with my mittens. How could this be so physically painful? We hadn’t touched. We’d barely spoken. I wished myself back in time, back to the first moment I met him. If I could start over again, I’d open up to him immediately. I’d have kissed him in the kitchen, rather than being disappointed he hadn’t kissed me. And after the masquerade, I’d have rushed him home before we could be attacked, then told him we’d be sharing a bedroom from now on.

But I wasn’t back in time. I was now. In my stuffy sleeping bag with all my things packed and a short note to leave in my place. Well, all my things except for the temple books. They wouldn’t help where I was going.

An hour later, the tent was filled with soft snores and deep breathing. I peeked my head out of my sleeping bag and checked, but no one stirred. Only the shadows shifted, their attention falling on me.

I pressed my finger to my lips. “Shh.”

Cris floated toward me, curiosity in the way he writhed like flame, but he was soundless as I pulled out my letter and reread it one more time before leaving it by Sam.

My friends,

By the time you wake, I’ll be gone. I hope you won’t follow. It was selfish of me to ask you to come this far. This isn’t your duty.

I don’t know if I’ll succeed, but I’m going to try to find answers, to find help. Someone told me he believed I could do anything, be anything I wanted because I’m new. He made me realize that one of my best qualities is not listening to what other people think I should do. He made me believe in myself.

If I have only one life, I’m not going to waste it. I’m going to fight for what I believe in. I believe in this.

I hope you can believe in me too.

I love you all,

Ana who Has Life

Quietly, I rolled my sleeping bag and strapped on my flute case, then secured my backpack over my shoulders. Cris and a handful of sylph followed me into the winter night, questions in their quiet songs.

-Where are you going?-

“To the prison,” I whispered.

-We’ll go with you.-

“Half of you stay with them. They’ll still need sylph.”

Cris bristled. -We are your army. We follow you.-

I crept away from the tent, careful where I placed my feet. My flashlight beam was weak, dimmed with the end of my scarf covering it. I didn’t want anyone to wake and notice the light. “You’re my army, so you’ll follow my orders, right?”

A few of the sylph grumbled, but finally Cris nodded and handful of shadows peeled away, heading back for the tent.

After one last look at the tent and my friends inside, I walked north, uncovering my flashlight once there was a thick layer of trees behind me. “Is there an easy way down the cliff that will get me to the prison wall?”

A few sylph darted ahead to scout a path.

-Sam will be angry.- Cris stayed beside me, keeping me warm. Snow drifted through the forest, melting away in my sylph’s heat.

“He’ll live.” I watched my step over a tangle of roots, listening hard for sounds of pursuit or animals in the forest. Dragons aside, other creatures were unlikely to bother me with sylph so near, but Sam had been right when he said I could fall or get hurt, and sylph wouldn’t be able to help. I had to be careful.

I could go back. I could sneak into the tent, crumple up the letter, and go to sleep. No one would ever know, except for the sylph, and they would keep my secret.

But I pressed on through the deepening night, following the sylph to a snowy path. My boot skidded, sending me to my butt and knocking the air out of me. I found my feet again, wincing at a new bruise as one of the sylph heated enough to dry my clothes.

“Can one of you—” I waved at the steep path that wound down the slope. It looked like a dragon path, all the branches above shredded and the ground littered with sticks and fallen evergreen needles, creating traps beneath the snow. “Melt it? Harden it?”

Sylph eased into a line, singing softly to one another. Steam rose around them, hot and hissing like a part of their melody. Heat billowed around me, smelling of ozone and ash; a trickle of sweat crawled down the back of my neck.

Within minutes, it was done. The sylph seemed to shake themselves as they returned to my side, only one or two leading me down the now-dry path.

“Thank you.” I had my light, so I could see the twigs and leaves on the ground, but as we descended into the valley, they glowed red and then crumbled to ash when I stepped on them. The sylph were being careful with me.

-We’re so close,- Cris sang. -I don’t know if what you’re trying will work, but we sylph love you for the effort. We’ll do anything it takes to protect you.-

Ah, and we were going to see the dragons, so no wonder he’d wanted all the sylph.

I stretched out a hand for him, and tendrils of shadow wound around my wrist and up my forearm.

I took the hill carefully, testing rocks before I trusted my weight to them. Every step took me away from my friends and into danger, but an odd sense of peace pushed through me. I’d said in my letter to Sam and the others that I believed in what I was doing, and I did. This was right. I couldn’t give up.

I only realized I was humming when the sylph began singing with me, eerie and unearthly sounds that echoed through the night. Our song lifted, warm and rich like honey as it filled the dragon path and ran down ahead of us.

Sylph undulated in the darkness, tendrils of shadow reaching for the snowy sky as they danced. When we found level ground, I twirled awkwardly in my heavy backpack and all the sylph gathered around, burning with joy. They coiled around one another, around me as though I were one of them, and all of the sylph made flowers bloom. I danced through a garden of shadow roses.

The companionship I’d been missing over the last weeks built around me, built inside me.

A year ago—it felt like a thousand years ago—I’d trapped a sylph inside an egg and burned my hands. When they healed, the rose thorn scars I’d worn most of my life had vanished. The scars never would have healed without the sylph fire. Only the ruin had allowed new, healthy skin to grow over.

Like a phoenix bursting into flame and a rain of sparks before being reborn in its own ashes, it had taken burning up in my own misery for me to realize I didn’t need other people to believe in me before I could do something.

I had to believe in myself.

Hopefully I would see my friends again and be able to explain that.

The singing faded and sylph burned around me, happier than I’d seen them in weeks. Shadows caressed my hands and arms, and Cris said, -Thank you,- as we continued on our journey.

I’d been so lost in my own ragged emotions, I hadn’t even noticed their sadness. They’d missed the music, too.

I wouldn’t ignore them again.

The sylph led me through the woods, melting snow where they thought I might have trouble finding traction. We crept through the forest for hours, strains of melody fluttering around like butterflies or leaves in autumn. Though exhausted, I felt oddly peaceful, considering I was in a dark and unfamiliar forest with a dozen burning shadows.

Only as morning light bled through the forest did I realize I’d been walking all night. My muscles ached, and my stomach felt hollow. I gathered up a handful of fresh snow and ate it, but it only helped a little.

One of the sylph flew off to find something for me to eat, and a few minutes later I was picking scorched feathers off a pigeon. It wasn’t ideal, but a few bites too hot to taste, along with snow, helped immensely.

I was just about to sit and rest when morning reflected off white stone just through the trees.

A broken section of the wall.

I’d arrived.

18

RINGING

YESTERDAY THE DRAGONS had come in the morning. If I wanted to attract their attention, I needed to time everything perfectly.

Preferably after they’d found something to eat.

I tightened my backpack straps and tucked my flute case into my coat. A pile of rubble made a sort of stair; I scrambled up the steep incline, careful of slick spots and snow. When I reached a gap with too many loose rocks, I stretched for a low-hanging branch and climbed a spruce tree until I reached another decent section of the wall.

It took forever, and sylph kept stopping me so they could dry my way, but at last I reached the top of the wall.

Snow made the sky misty gray, but from up here, I could see everything. Trees encroached on the prison, pushing through piles of weather-smoothed stone broken off the wall. I stood above them, the pines and spruces and maples, for a moment feeling like the tallest person in the world.

There was the cliff I’d found yesterday. It seemed awfully far away now, though it was probably only an hour’s walk. I’d had to take the long way around, coming down the mountain in the dark.

Sam and the others would be waking soon, if they weren’t already. I tried not to imagine their reaction to my letter.

Cold wind streaked across the wall, but sylph huddled around me, warming the air and absorbing the force of the wind to keep it from hitting so hard. The wall was plenty wide, but I couldn’t risk falling. There were a few holes here and there; this wall—and the tower inside—didn’t have Janan keeping it intact. The stone was ice cold and crumbling, with no heartbeat inside.

When I had a clear view of the frost-crusted forest, I drew my flute from its case and blew hot air into the mouthpiece to warm the metal. I wanted to remove the case and my backpack, since they were heavy and awkward, but I couldn’t risk losing them. It seemed like if I put them down, they’d be gone. The sylph weren’t corporeal; they were useless for carrying things.

I hadn’t heard dragon thunder yet, but the gray clouds spat snow. A dragon could be hiding up there, easily.

My heart thudded against my ribs. What if they didn’t come? What if they did?

“I don’t know, Cris.” My voice shook as I lifted my flute. “This is seeming too big again.”

Cris hummed comfortingly, and shadows touched my hands, my cheeks.

Sylph formed a horseshoe around me, leaving everything ahead of me visible. I needed to be able to see and listen.

Wing beats cracked in the east, and I shivered.

Clouds rippled with serpentine bodies pushing closer. I breathed hot air into my flute, keeping the metal warm, getting my lungs used to the effort. I wouldn’t have time to warm up like normal. Not unless dragons were impressed by scales and rhythm exercises.

I knelt and held as still as I could, waiting as the dragon thunder grew closer. Talons scraped the bottoms of clouds, shredding the vapor into ribbons. Immense wings scooped air, swirling snow in flurries across the sky.

A trio of dragons swept toward the forest, silent as they slithered over white treetops. Only the wind of their passing and the occasional clap of their wings gave auditory evidence of their presence.

From my perch, surrounded by sylph whose chief desire was to protect me, I could almost appreciate the beauty of these dragons. Sam once told me that the first time they’d seen dragons, everyone had stopped what they were doing and looked up. They’d been entranced.

Until the attack came.

I waited, heart pounding in my ears. What if they hated music? What if that was why they always attacked Sam?

Part of me wished he were here, because even though we’d been fighting, the way I missed him was an ache in my soul.