Devouring Hollow Hearts || ONC'24

》Chapter Seven《

Morning light stretched through the cave mouth in sweeping licks of honied gold and scarlet as Chyrie's eyes blurred in and out of focus. Once, she'd seen Xiran snoring quietly into black wisps of hair fluttering away from his parted lips. Then he was gone.

Noxa swept him away without a trace.

Curled tightly into the nook of her stomach, Dailes slept. His tail tickled against the tip of his nose, the scaled, feather-like bristles splayed outward as it waggled back and forth.

Again, he had grown.

The size of a bear cub with wings and horns where fur and ears might be, Dailes' weight was a comforting presence pushed into her front. She couldn't fathom his spurts of development.

His snout became more pronounced with each passing day, hidden beneath his tail or not.

Chyrie smoothed her hand over the pebbled armor of the drakeling as he rested. The calluses on her fingers snagged against his scales, gooseflesh spreading as she felt along the growing ridges of his spine.

Dailes chuffed in his sleep, a low rumble of pleasure purring out.

Careful not to disturb him, Chyrie pushed onto her knees and navigated her way to the forge. She could sharpen her new blade in peace without causing too much of a disturbance and finish off the sword with her magic.

Her reserves were minimal with the leash Anryth Kept around her soul, but Chyrie managed worse in the last few days from her fever and the guardsmen.

Scooping up her bindings, she wrapped both her palms and carefully protected the gash on her wrist. The white canvas of material pinned the leftover cloth from Xiran's shirt over the wound and sealed it from the heat.

Chyrie gripped the horn of her anvil and sighed. The fatigue still haunted her, an oily sensation slipping over her joints and slowing each reach and pull as she blasted the sword with flame.

Hammering the tang, she swallowed the flood of bile stinging in her throat. A metal piece she would soon conceal beneath yew wood – the house crest of her closest friend and Lady of Midosa – as she finished the sword that might set her free. Experienced with broadswords, Asa was as much of a sister as she ever had, and twice the swordsman.

With every shaving swipe, Chyrie knew she'd never hear the end of it if the weapon was dull or top heavy.

"You're tired."

"I'm restless," she muttered, gritting her teeth as she stepped up to the vat of warm oil. "I've a month to finish two more blades."

"Your heart is beating slowly..."

Chyrie's chest panged, his concern an aching reminder of her brother.

Cathan – brutalized, imprisoned, and lied to – had no idea where she'd been taken or why.

The young drakeling quickly turned into an anchor, rooting her feet to the ground and stabilizing her on all levels.

She wasn't certain those soft golden eyes would return to their juvenile state after their ordeal in the temple. Youth filled them this morning and his gentle blinks both warmed her heart and broke it.

"I'll be okay," she reassured him.

Dailes huffed a smoked breath over the gravel, the force shoving away debris. Slowly, he lowered his head to the ground and resumed his slumber.

Chyrie looked at the sword resting in her palms, shining a murky silver in the forgelight, with a few rough edges. She'd melted a fuller down the crease to aid with efficiency, barely managing to fight the thoughts of Asa truly wielding the blade.