Blood poured from Ignis's wounds, and Unda couldn't stop it. There were cuts all over. Every time he patched one, another appeared. The light in her eyes had already burned out, and her expression had gone slack with death, yet he kept tending to her. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't let her die protecting him.

I'm not worth that sacrifice, a tiny voice cried from within him, one that rose from the depths of the frigid ocean beneath his skin. When it surged forth, tears poured from his eyes and a fractured scream wrenched from his throat.

"Let her go, Unda." The whisper slithered up his spine and through his ears, quivering with multiple voices. Coae's, Aurum's, Stellae's, Foliis's—all of them commanded together in the same tone: let her go.

Something tightened sharply around Unda's head, and he startled awake. A blurry figure leaned over him, damp auburn hair tickling his nose. When he blinked, slowly adjusting to the light, his vision began to clear, and the elf woman Vivian took shape before him.

He shoved upright, knocking her hand aside with a protest on the tip of his tongue. The movement set the world rocking beneath him as the ache in his skull returned with a vengeance, and he swallowed his words weakly. Groaning, he pressed his hand to his temples. Soft gauze was wrapped around his head and pressed something cold against the place where he had hit the wall when Ignis threw him.

Ignis. Heart pounding, roaring in his ears, drowning him, he looked down at his hands, half expecting them to be slick with blood. Instead, his fingers were pale as the moon with no touch of crimson in sight.

Vivian sighed as she dropped into a chair, flicking her damp hair over her shoulder. Choppy pieces hung in her eyes, half obscuring the green markings around her eyelids. She was still quite soaked from the rain, and the droplets left a damp spot at her feet. "You're welcome," she said.

Unda shrank against the wall. He sat in a cot, tucked into the corner of a room lit by a sole lantern on the bedside table. The scratchy blanket draped over him was as damp as the pillow where he had been laying. Like her, he still had not dried from the rain. "What did you do to her?"

She scrunched her face, her mismatched eyes aglow. "I said you're welcome. A thank you would be appropriate since I saved your life."

"I didn't need to be saved—certainly not by you," Unda spat. The water in his clothes and hair lifted into the air and froze, taking the shape of spears pointed at the elf. He gave her a once over, searching for any weapons on her person or within reach. Nothing caught his eye, but he couldn't take any chances. She was the woman from the scrying pool, the elf the generals were searching for.

And she had defeated Ignis.

With a huff, Vivian stood, and he flinched as she towered over him. "It seems they had you quite fooled," she mused, folding her arms. "Those were the Head Dragonborn in disguise, kid. Once I realized that, I couldn't leave you with them. I was lucky I got to you when there was only the one around. I'm sorry you were fooled. I don't know how long you traveled with them, or what they planned to do to you, but they are not your friends."

The others are Head Dragonborn in disguise. With a jolt, Unda recalled his own disguise, and gingerly rested a hand against his cheek where his scales should have been. Only smooth skin met the pads of his fingers. He shivered and released his control over the spikes of ice, which turned once again to water and splashed onto the wood floor.

The room shrank. His throat constricted as he struggled to breathe. She thought he was an elf. But if she found out otherwise, she would surely kill him.

Ignis may have survived, and Aurum would soon notice that they weren't with him and come searching, but there was no telling how long it would be before his siblings could find him. He had never been so thankful for and unnerved by his elven form. It had saved his life, provided him with a golden opportunity, but he couldn't shake the violent flashes behind his eyes—the images of what Vivian would do to him if she learned the truth. Her sword in his chest. A knife through his neck. Scales scraped from his flesh and his horns chopped short to make trophies for her. His head presented to the elves as a promise, a rallying cry against the dragonborn.

Ice covered the tips of his fingers and, lightheaded, he dropped his gaze to his lap where the scratchy blanket was bunched in his fists. If he played along, however, he would be safe. Perhaps it would be a chance to glean information for Selini. Though the fear thrumming in his veins threatened to upturn everything, he tried to wrestle it under control and harden his resolve. He wouldn't back down. His duty was to spy for Selini. Scrying pool or not, he would be useful to her.

The bed creaked. Vivian put one knee on the edge, leaning over it. He flinched, but she ignored him and grabbed his chin, twisting his face toward her. Up close, her eyes were like those of a predator, a dragonborn, with the same narrow slit down their middle that all of Selini's people had. His breath hitched.

"Such beautiful eyes," she murmured, tilting his chin down so that he was peering up at her through his lashes. Her lips quirked up in a smile. "Though they look like the eyes of a dragonborn."

His blood turned to ice, as did every inch of him when the magic in his core shot through his limbs. Gritting his teeth, he shoved her away so that her weight lifted from the bed. At her inquisitive look, he cleared his throat. "So do yours," he said.

She laughed, a haunting sound that echoed around the still room. Even the flame in the lantern had recoiled, spitting sparks at her. When she stopped, her grin was like that of a beast, bearing elongated canines that were eerily similar to the fangs of the dragonborn. "These?" she chuckled and pointed to her eyes. She sat on the edge of the bed again. "Mine stopped working long ago, so I stole these from a pair of dragonborn I killed. That's why they don't match."

Unda shoved into the corner and tucked his knees against his chest, desperate for even a handful of inches between them. The ends of his hair hanging at the edges of his vision turned white like his knuckles, white like the frost crystalizing on his skin as fear seized him in its jaws. Vague, violent images of dragonborn corpses flashed through his mind, their eyes ripped from their sockets and forced to replace Vivian's own. Bile clawed up the back of his throat.

Her eyes crinkled at the edges as her teasing look darkened. "I jest."

Swallowing the sour taste on his tongue, he forced a shaky smile as an uncertain laugh left his lips. His hands began to shake. No matter how much he tried to move past it, the horrifying vision was burned into his mind along with that of Ignis's bleeding body.

Her face softened at the edges, if only slightly, and she sank back into the chair. The green cloak with the emblem of the bear hung over the back of it, but she quickly obscured his vision of it when she sat. "Where are you from? You seem a little young to be taking part in this war. I'd rather get you home as quickly as possible. Your parents must be worried."

"My parents," he echoed, tasting the strange phrase on his tongue. Sharper than a knife, the pounding at the back of his skull shot forward, and he pressed his forehead into his knees with a hiss. Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them away furiously. It was there, the hazy edges of a memory. At one point, he did have parents, yet he couldn't remember them—much less come up with a lie convincing enough to have her believe he even knew them. There was only the temple, the goddess, and Aurum. Had he ever been somewhere before that?

His heart stuttered as the silence stretched. Any normal elf captured by dragonborn could have at least been able to answer where they had come from, yet his mind was blank. He had seen flashes of territories in Calistie and elven towns under dragonborn control, but no names came to mind. If he couldn't answer, he might as well have admitted he was a fake, a dragonborn in disguise.

Say the dragonborn killed them, part of him whispered, but his tongue was a knot in his mouth. It couldn't weave any lies, and he had never been skilled at falsehoods. Perhaps that was why he sat frozen. Or maybe it was her impatient stare, the kind that bored into him, which kept him silent.

Before Vivian could press him for an answer, the distant slam of a door rattled the walls. Heavy footfalls pounded closer then, with the door swinging on loud hinges, the man from the street entered the room and shook out his drenched cloak.

Unda shrank farther into the corner until it was pressed so firmly against his back that he hoped it would swallow him. Red blurred the edges of his vision. His blood turned to ice, white as his fingers, his hair, and the breath that fogged in front of his face when his breath hitched. When the air froze around him, vicious spears of ice formed, their fangs bared at the man. Head to toe, his body trembled like a fragile thing, but he hardened his resolve. No matter what, he would not fall into the hands of a man who traded lives like cards.

Across the room, the man shuddered. "What kind of magic is this, Vivian? It's frigid in here. Don't tell me you've—" He stopped short, eyes wide as they landed on Unda. Laughing, he sauntered closer. "You got the little elf?"

Unda clenched his jaw until it ached. He glared at her, searching her face for a hint that would give away her ties to the man. If they were working together, did she belong to him?

She stood and stepped between Unda and the man, an arm out to shield him—the same way his siblings did during the failed negotiations. From the hardened look in her eyes, he began to second guess and finally let go of the fleeting thought. No, she couldn't be the man's servant. There was too much fire in that narrowed gaze.

"The scroll piece?" she spat.

Instantly, he shrank from her and cleared his throat. He turned his pockets inside out. "They got away with it, but I don't care much for that. What's a unicorn when you've got a creature like that at your side?" With the sweep of his burly arm, he gestured to Unda. "Exotic, powerful, and pure as snow—just like the unicorn, only you don't have to go on a wild goose chase for this. Leave him with me if you're moving on. He'll be in good hands here."

Vivian's pointed ears flattened back against her head like a beast's, and a low growl ripped from the back of her throat. She bent, taking up the sword propped against her chair and drawing it from its scabbard. The blade sang, glittering silver like moonlight. A blue teardrop gem dangled from the sword's hilt on a thin chain. It pulsed with a heavy presence, one that splintered Unda's ice, dragging a shiver up his spine and leaving a foul taste in his mouth that he couldn't swallow. It forced even the human man to his knees though he was cut off from magic's touch.

"Vivian," the man sputtered, shuffling to the door. "Be reasonable."

"Reasonable?" she scoffed and threw the scabbard at her feet where it hit the wood floor hard.

Unda startled, heart pounding in his ears, yet a little of the ice began to melt. She was protecting him, not tying him up and handing him over to the whims of the human. Her loyalty to other elves was what made her so troubling to Selini, but he had never been more grateful for it. Though now he feared even more what she would do if she learned his true identity. Dragonborn had never been able to disguise themselves as elves before; would her loyalty shatter before such a revelation?

She shifted into an offensive stance, the sword pointed at the man. "I would say I've been more reasonable than you deserve. Now, you've spent the last of my patience," Vivian spat. "Not only did you fail to gain anything from the dragonborn—letting them escape in the process, I might add—and lose a scrap of the scroll, but now you pursue a frightened elf child for your twisted gain. I suffered your disgusting nature because of your skills, but it seems the best way to ensnare those monsters is with my own hands."

"I can still be useful," the man choked out, now on his knees at her feet, grabbing the hem of her overskirt. His frightened gaze clipped to the sword, the silver reflected in its depths, and his horror deepened. "I can find more of those scroll pieces. I can chase down the dragonborn. Anything. I'll do anything!"

Vivian slashed him across the face, spraying the wall with crimson. The man shrieked and fell back, hands pressed to the wound as blood seeped down his face. But his flailing stopped suddenly. The blue gem dangling from the hilt of the blade sang, low and reverberating in the stillness. Its glow brightened as the life fled the man's body. Finally, he dropped dead at her feet, the cut still dripping.

Shaking all over, Unda looked from the corpse to her sword which was still humming with that thick presence of magic. The wound shouldn't have killed him, yet it did. He shuddered, fingers curled so tightly into his scarf that they ached, frozen down to the bone.

There were rumors of a sword, forged in secret and designed to kill all with one cut—no matter how small. It was enchanted along with two others; the séti swords, disaster swords, they were called, though Selini believed they were lost. Yet here was the worst of the three, the séti bakri, in the hands of the elf.

She sighed and produced a cloth from her pocket with which to wipe away the blood from the blade. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I hate to use this old thing in front of others. It doesn't favor small spaces like this either."

Unda's head was pounding—a vicious headache that circled his entire skull, not just where he had struck the wall. "Is that why you didn't use it before?"

"As much as I'd have liked to kill that red monster, I couldn't risk cutting you by accident. Any wound is fatal with this trinket." Turning to him, she smiled—nearly ear to ear and all teeth. As she bent to collect the scabbard, she laughed to herself. "I guess I can't hide it anymore. You mustn't share this secret." Her mismatched eyes bored into him. The blade scraped its sheath as it slid back into place.

Long after her hand left the hilt and the sword sat still in its prison, the hiss of metal and the squelch of it piercing flesh rang in his ears. If the room hadn't been too small before, it was now. No matter how much his body itched to run, there was nowhere to go, not unless he bolted for the door. But her evil sword would cut him down before he made it there. He had to warn Selini. Vivian was no ordinary foe; she was a dragonborn slayer, and she had a weapon that could kill the goddess herself if she wished.

He stiffened when the elf tapped the sword again. Finally, he nodded plainly and earnestly, but something pulled at his core. "I won't tell anyone," he said, and the lie pierced his tongue. Cold sank into his bones as his sandy curls tainted azure and cerulean at their tips, always giving him away. It was sickening—how easily it came to him then.

She glanced at his hair with a crease between her brows, but her face was void of the same knowing look as his siblings—of course it would be. She wasn't Aurum or the others who had been around him since childhood. He let out a breath, counting himself lucky for once.

Outside, the sky rumbled, fierce enough that the walls rattled. Vivian clicked her tongue against her teeth. "This storm..." she muttered, then grabbed the ankles of the man she had killed. "Wait here while I dispose of the waste."

Before he could protest, she left, dragging the corpse behind her unceremoniously. Blood smeared the ground in a trail of gore, and the man's unfocused eyes lolled upward. As he disappeared around the corner, Unda could have sworn they latched onto him for a heartbeat, a vengeful ghost that sought to drag him down, too. But then the man disappeared, and Unda was alone with the roaring in his ears.

Steeling himself, he vaulted off the little cot. The wound in his head pounded furiously, and he swayed as his bare feet touched the floor. When the fit passed, he sucked in a deep breath and crossed the room, the black spots in his vision clearing slowly. His boots were tucked into a corner, socks hanging over the sides. They were hardly dry but a welcome sight all the same. He pulled them on quickly over his socks and laced them tight before turning to the small window across from the door.

It rested above his head, a little thing half covered by a thin glass pane that was too small for even him to squeeze through. Dragging the chair over, he stood on his toes to peer outside. Rain pattered the glass and darkness blanketed the town, but a flash of gold raced through the streets and set a shiver of relief running up his arms. Frost coated the windowsill and clouded the glass where his fingers touched. Ahkirel.

Muscle tense, he checked the door, ears pricked for a sign that Vivian was returning. Silence—only the thrum of his heart against its cage. Coating his fingers in a thick layer of ice, shimmering in the lantern light, he curled his fist and thrust it into the glass. It cracked after the first strike and shattered with the second, sending out a spray of tiny shards on the other side of the wall. The window was large enough to fit his arm through, up to his elbow at least as he strained to stay up on his toes against the growing ache in his legs. If I could get a signal to Aurum, he'll come for me!

Magic pulled sharply at his core, and he pushed it from the pool out to his fingertips. The ice began to glow and peel from his skin, taking a new shape: a small bird, humming with power and pulsing with azure light. Its edges were rough, crudely shaped. Already, a fiercer headache was beginning to pull apart his seams, and he gritted his teeth against the sudden wave of exhaustion. The edges of his curls, hanging in his eyes, turned a deep indigo. It was rudimentary. It shouldn't have taken so much effort.

Aurum could fashion anything from magic with the wave of his hand, never touched by fatigue. He had shaped the same bird from gold when Unda skinned his knee as a small child and refused to stop crying. Look at the way it flies so freely, Aurum had said. Let it carry your pain to me. I'll take it all away.

The ice bird, now complete and glittering at its core, pushed off the tip of his fingers and flew into the storm. Even the battering rain couldn't deter it from its mission. Unda let out a breath as he dropped back onto his heels.

"Can't sit still, can you?"

Unda jumped, falling into the back of the chair. It toppled over; his head hit the floor—agony ripping through his skull all over again—and he sat up with a hiss. Spots flickered at the edges of his vision, but when it cleared, Vivian was standing over him.

Her eyes narrowed, and the edge of her lip curled. "Does the storm call to you, or are you searching for your captors? They've been driven off, but I'll hunt them down. Soon, they'll be dead, and you won't have to worry about them anymore." As she lowered herself to eye-level, her expression lifted with a sly smile, a gleam in her gaze that made his fingers curl. The tip of a knife lifted his chin. "Unless you seek to return to them?"

Unda's chest seized, his insides icy. Shaky, he tried to sit up, but she pressed the knife into his skin. He stopped, holding his breath. The room was spinning, falling apart around him. His tongue was slack. It had no more lies to tell, but she demanded an answer. "Have I done something to alarm you?" he whispered, small as he felt. "I'm merely eager to return home."

The walls rattled again as the roar of thunder boomed overhead. Magic prickled in the air, lifting the hair on Unda's arms, and it whispered as it curled around him. Move.

Kicking away from the fallen chair, Unda threw himself to the side, nicking his chin on Vivian's blade—only a small hunting knife, thankfully. As she stared after him in a dumbfounded stupor, the wall behind him burst open with a flash of golden light, and a figure stepped into the scene shaking droplets of rain from his cloak. Aurum stood in the carnage, the little ice bird on his shoulder. Blood dripped from his sword in one hand, and the look on his face was monstrous, eyes alight with power as they settled on Vivian and darkened. His brilliant golden scales bled black at the edges.

Something coiled in the pit of Unda's stomach as he shrank from the figure. Fear's teeth sank into him, and he forgot the face of his brother.

~<>~