~A Wattpad featured and Wattys Longlisted story~
Lana can hardly remember what it's like to be free. After nine years as a captive on board a ship ruled by ruthless bounty hunters, sailing across Maris with no clear direction, she's desperate for so...
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THE SOUND OF clanging swords around Skye is a surprisingly relaxing sound after the events of the day.
After their detour to the Depingur Historia, they flew back to the inn to find the rest of the Dragon Riders starting to gather in the clearing in front of the stables. Dragons flew about restlessly in the sky and he found himself quickly lost in the crowd as soon as he landed. Somehow word traveled fast of their arrival, but all he hears is his family name whispered like a jumbled mantra.
Medeis.
There's nothing really to a name, but it's what ties him to his father, and it seems more of his title than anything. He was never good enough for the family name. Never lived up to his father's expectations, especially after his mother's death and how his father placed the blame for that onto Skye himself. Oddly, the way the other Riders said his name it seemed to feed to a fire within him that had never been stoked and quells that pain his father had drilled into him. A sense of confidence begins to take flame, and for once, his last name doesn't sound so foreign.
Bryan, Lana, and him are steered through this curious crowd all the way back into the inn, where the Lords and Ladies of the other islands were gathered. They looked at him the same way the crowd outside did-- full of interested curiosity. It's a look that he can tell means that while his name may command their respect, Skye still has to earn it fully.
The lady of Halsa, Lady Miran, introduced herself first, with the ten others following her lead. It's a surprisingly high number, more than he expected. It only leaves about seven other islands missing from the gathering, either captured like Orleyn or still defending their homeland.
"It's a devastating start to this Second Great War," Lord Hector of Whilend grumbled, crossing his arms with a frown as they examine the map of Maris in front of us, all of them eyeing the dark markers that symbolize the Morai and the low lingering white ones for humanity.
From the Dark Lands off to the West, they had taken the first four islands then jumped inward to Orleyn and Lyra. The island of Halsa stands out like a sore thumb on the map, the clear next piece to take for the Morai as they move forward.
Lady Miran assured all of them that her siege weapons are ready for battle, but even as Skye tries to release the nervous tension that's coiled up in his body since hearing the true damage of the Morai, he can't. Not even sparring for a couple hours later could help like it normally does.
Other Riders have been feeling the same anxiousness he has, not knowing when the next attack will be or if their defenses will be enough. Ballistas are stationed all around the island's perimeter, and the lower sectors of the city closest to the water in the cover were evacuated. Food was provisioned, armor cleaned and prepared, shifts doled out to watch the water for enemy arrival, and strategies discussed. It's just waiting now, and that seems to be the hardest part.
