Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
She rounded the charred remains of the tavern and stepped onto the main road that was now a ruin of ash and blood, carved into the bones of the city like a fresh wound.
The buildings, once proud with sculpted lintels and silver-tipped eaves, now sagged and leaned like old drunkards in mourning, their timbers cracked, their stones split and steaming.
The cobblestones beneath her bare feet were blackened and warped, some melted together by dragon fire into twisted veins of glass.
And yet. . .above the ruin, the night sky had begun to soften.
The dragon’s trail—a molten ribbon slashed across the stars—still burned above her like a mark she alone could read.
Korin.
She wouldn’t say his name aloud.
Not yet.
Not when her lips still tingled from the memory of tasting ash and desire in the same breath.
Her feet were bare, soles scraped and tender from scorched stone. Shoes were a luxury of the Nobles, not the Lowlys.
Her tattered white dress clung to her like a second skin, sweat-drenched and marked with soot. She pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders.
Head down. Eyes low.
She slipped into the main square like a shadow.
The light was strange here—neither full night nor dawn. Just the slow exhale after catastrophe.
People were gathering now. Pulling bodies from rubble. Dousing stubborn flames. Whispering over the broken carcasses of their homes. Soldiers limped by, leaning on each other. A little girl wailed as she clutched a scorched doll to her chest.
Sol kept to the edge, moving like smoke around them, unseen.
A man yelled out. “Did anyone see what happened?”
Another called back, “I saw it all!”
Sol slowed her pace.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, ice faintly sparking at her fingertips before she hid them in her shawl.
“I will tell you everything!” The person cried from across the square, “It was the Goddess Purra! She rose from the soil itself and struck that beast with her silver wrath!”
Sol blinked.
“No!” barked another, a soldier with blood matting his hair. “It was the God Thip! The Sky Father! He blessed our archers with lightning and then struck Korin in the heart midflight!”
A third voice cut through—older, gravel-edged, male. “No! No!”
Many turned his way, even Sol as she headed on.
“It was us! The King’s head army. We scared the monster off with our sheer force!”
Sol slipped closer, angling her body behind a broken stall. Her head stayed bowed, but her ears drank in every word.
The man continued, "We have the strongest warriors! We showed that fire-spitting bastard what we're made of!"
A shallow wave of cheers echoed around him, feeble and half-hearted. The people were too exhausted, too devastated to truly rally behind him.
Sol barely suppressed a snort.
A cluster of villagers stood nearby the man—bandaged, dirt-streaked, wide-eyed.
Then, a small voice pierced the din—young and clear.
“I saw a Lowly appear,” said a boy no older than eight. “It was her that chased away Korin.”
Sol paused within the shadows.
The boy bobbed his head. “The Lowly shot ice from her hands. Hit the dragon. Twice.”
Silence came.
Sol froze in horror.
Then a chorus of sharp, disbelieving laughter came.
The mother of the child turned pale. “Hush, Pamrin. That’s nonsense. Don’t speak such things.”
“But I saw—”
“Lowlys could never do such a thing. They are weak and stupid.” She clamped a hand over his mouth, dragging him back into the fold. The boy’s eyes went wide. Then, he turned and suddenly he somehow locked his gaze on Sol hiding within the shadows. “But Mom!”
“Enough, Pamrin! Enough!”
Sol rushed off.
Just keep going. No one will ever suspect it was me.
Still, her pulse was a storm.
She’d spent her life hiding magic, flattening it, surviving. Playing nothing in a world that only ever called her that.
Until today.
Until the dragon had turned toward the Lowly Quarter.
Until she’d seen her mother standing in the open, bucket of water in hand, ready to fight a god with nothing but love and defiance.
Something inside Sol had snapped.
She hadn’t thought.
She’d only acted, racing off to where Korin flew and raised her hands in the air. She didn’t even know if her magic would work or not.
Thank the Goddess that it did.
Her father’s voice sounded in her head.
“They’ll cage you, girl. Cage you and drain you like a spring. Don’t ever let them see what you can do.”
Sol slipped past the edge of the main square, left the space, and headed onto the narrowing street that led toward the Lowly Quarter.
The cries of the wounded, the clash of buckets against fire, the hum of fear and delusion—all of it faded behind her like a curtain drawn shut.
But something else lingered.
Eyes.
She felt them.
Not like before, not the frenzied attention of soldiers or the boy’s stunned gaze—but something else.
These eyes were on her, and they were focused and steady.
No one ever saw her.
But now, someone did.
And their gaze didn’t just watch.
It claimed.
Who is it? And do they mean me any harm?