Obliviate my Destiny {Book 5}

32. Final return

We climbed higher and higher into the sky leaving London behind us; from this height it looked like a tiny toy town. All of our problems seemed so far away being this high.... But I felt peaceful up here, the cool breeze easing the pain in my blistered skin and the fog in my mind.

The original excitement of escaping was ebbing; I could hear Hermione crying—she had always been afraid of heights—and Ron swearing furiously. Even Harry's grip on my back seemed quite tense; though Gennie and Cole seemed to be the most relaxed I'd seen them.

"What does the message on the necklace mean?" Harry said again, and I realised I'd been spacing out.

"Who knows—Sam was a very complex person." I said, running my finger over the inscription that certainly wasn't there before today. "But we were so alike in so many ways..."

Of course, there were probably a hundred other theories that I didn't want to investigate, because honestly I was sick of it. If Sam was alive, why wasn't she trying to help us—why was she hiding out? And if she was dead, what was the point of the cryptic clues?

"I'm going to try and sleep this off, okay?" I announced to everyone, hoping that like Jenna once said, things make more sense after a good sleep.

It was easier to drift off than expected; the constant beat of wings was like a set of sails and let me imagine we were in a boat, not on a dragon thousands of feet high in the air.

There was a forest clearing, under twilight sky; silence floating over the desolated scene. And there, in the centre—was a gravestone, Sam's grave stone.

Samantha Annie Lockwood

October 26th 1979-June 6th 1997

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Dying flowers were still on the grave surface, neglected from lack of visitors. But then, the grave began to move. The ground was pulsating like a beating heart when—the surface of the dirt broke, and a white hand was visible, coated in dirt.

The hand was scrabbling, tearing at the surface, and muffled shouts could be heard. And then with the force of a balloon popping, a figure broke the surface.

Covered in dirt with a thin face and fire blazing in her eyes was the resident of the grave herself—Sam.

I woke up to screaming. It was clear as daylight what was happening; the dragon was out of control, twisting and dipping through the darkening sky. Everybody was screaming, and looking behind me I saw Ron holding on for dear life, close to being thrown off.

"WHY THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU FALL ASLEEP!" Ron was screaming to Cole. "YOU'RE FLYING A DRAGON!"

"HEY, GENNIE AND RORY FELL ASLEEP TOO!" Cole screeched, and weirdly I saw that Cole and Gennie didn't look as distressed. In a split second I realised something—the dragon was trying to throw Harry, Ron and Hermione from its back.

"COLE, TRY AND LAND THIS THING!" Gennie screamed, as with another screech from behind Hermione nearly fell off.

"NO!" Cole bellowed. "You three—you need to jump!"

"WHAT?!" Harry, Ron and Hermione yelled in unison, as the dragon took such a sharp turn we all had to dig our heels into the scales to avoid falling off.

"COLE, WHAT THE HELL?!"

"LISTEN—THERE'S A LAKE THERE, JUMP ON THE COUNT OF THREE—"

"COLE!"

"TRUST ME—WE'LL FIND YOU LATER!"

"THREE—"

Harry loosened his hold on me. "YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS, HARRY?!"