At Valen’s touch, Raenelir recoiled, lips peeling back in a snarl before he realized who it was and calming back down.

“Hush, Raen, I’m here,” he whispered, and to his surprise he realized he was crying. Looking up at Agrathor, who still sat perched atop the mountain he had chosen as his vantage point, Valen knew then that there was no way they could beat the Patriarch. Not right now, not like this. He did not even know if Raenelir was going to survive. The thought of yet another friend dying was enough to make him want to curl up in a ball on the ground and just let himself burn with the trees, let alone Raenelir.

“Val!” a voice cried, and his head shot up. He looked around in panic before suddenly there were hands thrown around him and he nearly fell over as Hera’s surprise embrace took what breath he had left in his lungs away. Simon, Samuel, Layne, Bardus and a few of the remaining soldiers were there, too, as well as the other wyvern hatchlings and the whelps that had not taken to the sky after Raenelir.

The little drakes were obviously terrified by the flames and everything else that was going on, but they still stuck close to Hera. They crowded in around Valen and Raenelir now as Hera did, as though she was their human mother.

“I thought you were going to die,” Hera sobbed, clinging to him too tightly in his wounded state, but at the moment he did not care. He held her just as tightly.

“I’m still here, Hera. I’m still here. But…” he replied, pulling her back as he paused and turning to look at the badly wounded Raenelir. Looking to the Highborn now as well, Hera’s eyes widened in horror as fresh tears began to slip down her face. Right now, whatever resoluteness Valen had seen growing in her since leaving their home was gone. In its place was fear and horror anew.

“Raen!” she cried, moving from Valen to Raenelir and stretching a hand out hesitantly towards him, looking between the gash in his stomach and the stab wound in his chest as if she could not decide what to try and look at first. Not that it mattered; Valen had dealt with more wounded wyverns than her, and knew just as well as she did that these were not the kind of wounds one just walked away from.

The others looked just as somber as they saw Raenelir’s horrible injuries.

“Val, I… I’m so sorry,” Samuel whispered, shaking his head in utter disbelief. After making it so far, how could this have happened now? Their destination was just within their grasp.

“I know this is hard right now, Valen, but… we have to figure out what we’re going to do. High Lord Velitarii and his beast of a dragon are surely going to scorch Midaras from the face of Parovia, and… as much as I hate to admit it, without Raenelir, there is nothing that we will be able to do. If we want to survive, we have to run,” Bardus announced, looking as if he hated every word that came out of his mouth and yet still saying them, just the same.

Simon seemed to share this sentiment, though his face was full of hatred as he looked up at dragon patriarch in the distance.

“I wish we could kill that bastard and his creature, but right now we don’t stand a chance. Maybe, if we go back and find the other members of the Iron Watch, then…” he began, though he trailed off as he spoke, apparently unable to finish his thought.

Layne, however, had a strange look on her face, a mixture of things that Valen had not thought to see on anyone at that moment.

Anger, perhaps, sure, but paired with resolve? Defiance? She stepped past the others, coming over to Valen’s side and touching his shoulder. She crouched down in front of him, meeting his eyes directly.

“Val,” she said, and her use of his nickname caught him by surprise and held his attention. “I saw what you did back at the Imperial encampment. I have not asked about it, out of respect to you, trusting that you would eventually come to share on your own. Right now, though, we cannot afford the luxury of waiting. We need you to do… whatever it was that you did… and pull off a miracle here, or there will be nothing left to stand in the way of the Empire. Nothing. Alright? We need you to fight.”

Everyone else looked lost at Layne’s words, but Valen knew what she was talking about. The lightning sense. Of course, he had no idea how that might help him to take on a dragon Patriarch and his Oath wielding rider, but looking into Layne’s eyes he felt it stirring inside of him. Finally.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

She was right. They all needed him. Raenelir needed him. He might not understand what this power was or what it could actually do, but right now what he needed it to do was anything. He nodded to Layne, his hands clenching into fists.

‘Help me, damn it. If I ever needed your help, I need it now. So help me!’ he thought. He didn't know who he was speaking to, but he reached out with his mind pleadingly...

Then he felt it. Something sparked to life inside of him, spreading from deep in his chest like electricity, making the hairs across his body stand on end. Suddenly he felt as though he could taste every individual piece of dust or ash on the air, could hear the heartbeats of everyone around him, could smell the rancid stench of burnt flesh and dying trees.

And with all of that, he knew immediately what Raenelir needed. All of the young wyverns looked at him now, staring as though they could see nothing else at all. Even Raen, despite his wounded state, seemed to grow steadier near him, turning his eyes toward Valen once more as he came up to kneel by the Highborn’s head.

“We still need you, Raenelir,” Valen said. It was the first time he still felt like himself with the lightning sense coursing through his body, and he knew what he wanted it to do. He placed both of his hands against the side of Raenelir’s head, willing the energy to obey him.

“So, get up.”

For a moment there was nothing. Then there was a spark of electricity as all of the energy in Valen’s body rushed out of him through his hands, leaving him drained and tired - but not done. Because a moment later it happened.

Raenelir got up.

As the wounds on Raenelir’s body closed up, no one could speak. All they could do was stare in disbelief as the Highborn pushed up onto his feet, his skin reknitting itself and reinvigorating him. He raised his head to the sky and roared, louder than any other roar that Valen had ever heard from him. The dark chains around his neck snapped off as he rent the sky, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

The skies answered him with the crack of thunder as rain began to fall. Even Valen looked up in surprise, remembering distinctly that right before he and Raen had engaged the Blackscale Elites there had not been a cloud in the sky. Yet now, here they were. The sky was dark overhead, roiling with flashes of light and the rumbles of thunder. A drop of rain hit Valen square in the face and he reached up to wipe it away, looking at the water on his finger afterwards like it was the strangest thing in the whole world.

Must. Go.

The words shook in his mind like the thunder overhead shook the skies. His head snapped around and he met Raenelir’s gaze. The Highborn’s lips were peeled back in a snarl and Valen knew immediately that the wyvern’s words and emotions were not imaginary. Raen was angry, and when he turned to look up into the distance, Valen knew just who he was angry at.

As if he could sense Raenelir’s glare, Agrathor’s wings spread once more. The massive drake brought his wings down several times before he lifted off from the top of the mountain he had been perched on. Velitarii and his beast waited for them. Valen and Raenelir had to fly to face them.

Looking around at the others, Valen knew that even with Raen’s wounds healed and whatever else was happening to him now, there was a good chance he and Raenelir might not survive the next fight. They had already had too many close calls and there was a good chance their luck was finally about to run out.

Yet they had no choice.

“We have to go,” was all that Valen could say. He looked around at all of those he had come to know as friends, understanding that it could be the last time he ever saw any of them. Samuel, to his astonishment, was crying, as if he too realized what this might mean. Simon met his gaze with a grim nod, showing his respect. Bardus looked at Valen and Raenelir in disbelief, his stoic demeanor finally broken by the events of the day. Only Layne met his gaze as steadily as his own eyes found her.

“Thank you, Layne. For your training, for your help… for everything,” he said, and she shook her head and smiled at him.

“My name is Senna. Senna Layne. Remember that, for when you get back,” she replied. Bardus was in visible disbelief that she had just shared her given name with Valen, especially considering none of the other rangers had done so even as they had gotten closer, but it was just one more surprise on top of all of the others.

Then arms wrapped around him from behind. Valen looked back to see Hera holding him, her tears gone now. When she looked up at him, the sorrow and love in her eyes shared space with that hard-as-steel strength that had thankfully returned. She knew that he had to go, even if she did not like it.

He placed a hand on her head, smiling.

“Look after the little ones while I’m gone, yeah?” Valen asked. Hera smirked, nodding.

“I will. But don’t think you can get out of doing your part too, later. I can’t be the only one taking care of these guys,” his sister replied. Then her lips tightened into a smile that was clearly forced as she pulled away from him. Knowing that if he stayed any longer it would only get harder to go, Valen turned and climbed onto Raenelir’s back. The Highborn turned in the direction of Agrathor, who now moved through the sky to hover over the city of Midaras. They could not waste any more time. Raen roared and then he leaped into the air, not giving Valen a chance to look back.

He would just have to see them all again later, after they had won.