Though the qoryxite walls were beautiful, the Pridefort’s rooms were austere. Two bunkbeds and four footlockers—just enough furniture for the standard four-person brood, and nothing more. At least the beds offered clean furs and stuffed pillows, comforts that Zyryxa would have savored if not for the feeling that her gut had been torn asunder, her head hammered, her throat burned, and her life stolen from her.

Zyryxa peeked out from under the blankets on the upper bunk. Lexyn sniffled and shivered by the crackling fire, clutching a necklace while wrapping herself in a bear hide blanket. Lexyn’s iced garments dried beside her, while she kept her eyes on the flames.

Burying herself under the furs, Zyryxa wished she could have maintained her dignity. How many of Vaztyma’s warriors witnessed her tears when Lexyn led her into the barracks, head bowed, failing to suppress her sobs? Vaztyma and Dezoq saw her as a weak child instead of a proud warrior. Was her only broodmate now judging her as weak?

Yet, when she contemplated how to salvage her pride, Zyryxa found herself paralyzed. How could she move forward when the one who taught her to move was gone?

Zyryxa stifled a sob beneath the white furs. It had to be a mistake. Her mother may have fallen, but she was too strong to stay down. Zyrthalla would not allow herself to die before soaring alongside Zyryxa’s Duilahir. She loved her too fiercely to depart before witnessing her daughter’s rise to Ice /champion. Her mother couldn’t be gone.

But she was. Her mother and Qorzillux had plunged into the sea. The dragon had surfaced, but not the knight. Zyryxa knew the dragon would not have abandoned her knight if Zyrthalla could be saved. Worse, her mother’s murderer flew away unscathed. Zyryxa closed her eyes. Instead of her mother’s smile, she saw Saevah, laughing atop golden Auryxion as they fled Loxzua. Tall, lithe, bronze-skinned, with flaming red hair and icy blue eyes stolen from the Ice Tribe. Zyryxa growled, clenching her fists around her pillow until it ripped in half. Curse Saevah! Zyryxa swore to hunt her to the ends of the world and time itself. She would never cease her pursuit until ice’s judgment was rendered and she stood over a corpse riddled with axe wounds.

She roared and sobbed, imagining all the ways she could kill the Fire Tribe knight. Zyrthalla’s greataxe embedded between her mocking eyes, orange blood splattered on her pretty face as Zyryxa carved her into a hideous ruin, Zyryxa’s mighty hands latched to her throat, thrashing her against a stone wall until her skull cracked into a thousand pieces, until she was as torn apart and broken like Zyryxa’s heart. Zyryxa would take Saevah’s own weapon, her famed twinblades, and drive them right into the damned bitch’s eyes. She would loom over her, telling her that this was justice for Zyrthalla, and witness recognition dawn on Saevah’s face at the dusk of her life, as her own blades stole the last light from her.

Her frosted yeti furs and the cold-blooded vengeance encased her in ice such that Zyryxa shivered despite the warmth of the bear fur blankets and Lexyn’s crackling fire. Her last memory of Zyrthalla, of the day she set her free with the ritemark, clung to her. She could not think of her mother’s last words without wanting to fall into the ocean with her and never rise again.

The tolling bells of Loxzua echoed in her ears, the ritemark on her forehead stung, the scent of her mother’s perfume flooded her nostrils. Zyryxa remembered the tenderness of her mother’s hands on her shoulders, her proud gaze like a mirror with tears running down her porcelain cheeks. Zyrthalla told her that being her mother was the greatest honor of her life, that she believed Zyryxa would become the proud woman she was meant to be. Her mother promised her that one day, Zyryxa would make the whole world as proud of her as she always has been.

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Zyryxa let the tears fall freely and the sobs escape from their cage. How could she ever make the world proud when she couldn’t even save her mother? Where was she when Zyrthalla faced several fire dragons alone, defending the people of Loxzua? Probably hundreds of miles away, wrestling polar bears while her mother was drowning!

“No one should be proud of me,” Zyryxa whispered. “Least of all you, Mother.”

I will be stronger, Zyryxa promised herself. I will become the most powerful Champion that ever lived! I will protect everyone I love.

Zyryxa vowed to never feel this powerless again. Nor could her pride sustain the blame she gave herself.

Zyryxa blamed Faxiq and Vaztyma for their relentless war, for dragging all of Volqor into the dispute when only one man should have paid the price. She cursed Divine Qoryxa for allowing such injustice to happen to her most pious devotees. Even Abbaz, the divinedamned bard, earned Zyryxa’s reproach; he should have had his own dragon and should have been in the air fighting beside his wife. But Zyryxa’s judgment didn’t stop at her father. The final, most agonizing culprit was Zyrthalla herself.

You were not supposed to die, she thought. You were supposed to survive, to be strong enough, to fight hard enough to witness my rise. How could you let me down, Mom? How?

Zyryxa collapsed, her anguish pouring out in unrestrained wails. The sadness, the utter powerlessness, evoked her rage. Her fists pounded the mattress, smashing through the fluff and splitting the gelubor board beneath. Yet, the destruction did not make her pain smaller. She hugged herself, wishing it were Zyrthalla’s arms wrapped around her, feeling like nothing could make the hurt go away.

“I knew Zyrthalla,” Lexyn said. “Y-you look like her.”

Zyryxa peeked out from under her blanket and studied Lexyn, who was gazing into the flames with small, tearful whimpers. “How did you know Zyrthalla?”

“She was n-nice to my f-f-family. C-came to ch-ch-check on her warriors when we t-tended them.”

Zyryxa sat up. Lexyn’s darker blue hair and pinkish skin tone, and her softer, smaller body made sense. Lexyn was not distantly blended with the Fire Tribe, as she had assumed. She was something else entirely. “Your parents were Loxzua’s medicans? The woman was from Leveria. Halette and Lexyq?”

Lexyn hugged herself tightly. “Halette of Meridian, though I’m not supposed to think of her as my mother anymore.”

Zyryxa sprang from the bed, feeling a surge of energy she hadn’t felt since her world shattered. “And I’m not supposed to care that my mother is dead.” She shed her frozen clothes and joined Lexyn beside the fire. “Tell me more about Zyrthalla. Please.”

Lexyn’s eyes were filled with tears. “I thought the world of Zyrthalla.”

Zyryxa gasped, overwhelmed by sobs that wracked her body.

“She always checked on our patients but never got in our way or tried to tell us how to do our work,” Lexyn continued, confidently speaking through her tears. “She respected my mother’s expertise and always ensured we had supplies, food, and even sent her warriors to gather herbs for us when we were short on donations.”

Zyryxa wept, resting her head on Lexyn’s shoulder, arms wrapping around her broodsister. Lexyn’s voice seemed to have healing powers, her words bringing light back into this darkened world, her compassion bringing more water to Zyryxa’s eyes. “Please, tell me more.”

Lexyn leaned her head against Zyryxa’s. “She would tell us that she was grateful Loxzua was our home. She was our hero, Zyryxa. I’m so… I’m so sorry she’s gone.”

Zyryxa struggled to steady her breathing. The love kindling in her heart reminded her that she was still alive. “Thank you,” she managed. “I’m grateful you’re here, Lexyn.”

Lexyn embraced Zyryxa, more strongly than expected. Zyryxa wept, realizing that she had not been held like this since she said goodbye to her mother. Lexyn shared her sorrow, and Zyryxa did not feel alone against the world the way she had moments ago. Nor did her anger dissipate like water into mist as Lexyn’s compassion warmed her. Her rage would be voiced and acted upon, propelling her toward Saevah. Yet, when she lifted her eyes and saw Lexyn there, she recognized the burgeoning sensation of love.

She vowed to herself then that she would never allow any harm to come to this girl.