Chapter 5

Freya POV

Edward was already walking away, and I had to jog to keep up, my heart rate spiking from anxious to full-blown panic. "Wait. Wait, did she say dragon? As in, actual—"

"Yes."

"But I—I can't—I'm afraid of heights!"

"Then I suggest you keep your eyes closed."

We emerged from the corridor onto an open platform that jutted out into... nothing. Just open air and darkness and, far below, what might have been clouds or mist or the ground—I couldn't tell and I definitely didn't want to look long enough to find out.

Perched along the edge of the platform were creatures that made every nature documentary I'd ever seen look like amateur footage.

Dragons.

Dozens of them, each the size of a small airplane, with scales in shades of blue and green and deep purple-black. They had wings—massive, leathery wings that were folded against their sides—and long necks and tails that ended in wicked-looking spikes. Most were secured to the platform with glowing chains that seemed to be made of pure light, and they shifted restlessly, talons scraping against stone.

Edward put two fingers to his lips and let out a sharp, piercing whistle.

One of the dragons—a massive creature with blue scales that seemed to shift between different shades depending on how the light hit them—raised its head. Its eyes were gold, with vertical pupils like a cat's, and they fixed on me with an intensity that made my knees go weak.

The dragon launched itself off its perch and glided down to our platform, landing with a heavy thud that I felt through the soles of my feet. Up close, it was even bigger than I'd thought—easily fifteen feet tall at the shoulder, with a wingspan that had to be at least fifty feet.

Those golden eyes studied me for a long moment. Then, slowly, the dragon lowered its head until its snout was level with my face.

I stood absolutely frozen, barely breathing, as the dragon exhaled a warm breath that smelled like cinnamon and smoke. Its pupils dilated slightly, and I had the sudden, bizarre impression that it was... pleased? Content?

"This is Draven," Edward said, and there was a note of genuine surprise in his voice. "He's... being unusually gentle."

"Is that bad?" My voice came out as a squeak.

"No. Just unexpected." Edward moved past me to run a hand along Draven's neck, and the dragon made a low rumbling sound that might have been a purr. "He's normally quite hostile to strangers."

Great. Wonderful. The massive flying death lizard liked me. That was definitely a good sign and not at all terrifying.

Edward swung himself up onto Draven's back with practiced ease, settling into a saddle I hadn't noticed before. He looked down at me expectantly. "Well? Are you coming, or would you prefer to walk?"

I stared up at him, at the dragon, at the impossible drop-off behind them. "I really, really can't do this."

"You don't have a choice."

Before I could protest further, Edward leaned down, grabbed my arm, and hauled me up behind him with surprising strength. I barely had time to register the fact that I was now sitting on a dragon before magical ropes materialized out of nowhere and wrapped around my waist, securing me to the saddle.

"Hold on," Edward said.

"Hold on to what—"

Draven launched himself off the platform.

My scream was lost to the wind as we plummeted into the darkness. My stomach dropped somewhere around my ankles, and every muscle in my body locked up in pure terror. The world spun around us—darkness and distant lights and the rush of air so cold it burned my lungs.

Then Draven's wings snapped open with a sound like thunder, and we were soaring upward instead of falling. The sudden change in direction made my head spin, and I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my face against Edward's back because if I looked down I was going to pass out or throw up or possibly both.

"If you're frightened," Edward's voice cut through the wind, and there was something almost gentle in his tone, "you can hold onto me."

I hesitated for maybe half a second before my arms shot out and wrapped around his waist, gripping tightly. He was warm—almost uncomfortably so, like hugging a space heater—and solid, and right now he was the only thing standing between me and a several-thousand-foot drop.

I felt rather than heard Edward's quiet laugh. "Such a small amount of courage for someone who's supposed to be the Savior."

Anger flared hot in my chest, momentarily overriding the terror. I loosened my grip and pulled back slightly. "I never said I was Savior! And excuse me for being scared—some of us weren't born with magic powers and the ability to turn into fireballs!"

Draven chose that exact moment to bank sharply to the left.

I shrieked and immediately grabbed onto Edward again, holding on even tighter than before. His shoulders shook with what might have been laughter, but he didn't say anything else. Didn't tease me further.

Maybe he wasn't always this insufferable after all.

I kept my eyes squeezed shut for what felt like an eternity, focusing on breathing and not thinking about how high up we were or how fast we were going or how one wrong move would send me tumbling into the void.

But eventually, curiosity got the better of fear.

I cracked one eye open, then the other.

And forgot how to breathe.

We were flying through a sky that shouldn't exist. Below us, instead of ground, there were layers of clouds tinged pink and gold by some light source I couldn't identify. Above us, instead of stars, there were floating islands—actual islands, complete with buildings and trees and waterfalls that flowed upward instead of down.

And in the distance, rising from the largest of these impossible islands, was a structure that made my brain struggle to categorize it. It was part castle, all Gothic spires and flying buttresses, and part modern building, with glass and steel catching the strange light. The architecture shouldn't have worked together, but somehow it did, creating something both ancient and futuristic at the same time.

Smaller buildings clustered around the main structure like satellites, connected by bridges that seemed to be made of light itself. Dragons wheeled through the air between the islands, some carrying riders, others flying solo. In the distance, I could see what looked like a train—an actual train—running along tracks that floated in mid-air, connecting one island to another.

"Is that..." I had to raise my voice to be heard over the wind. "Is that the Academy?"

"Moordale Academy," Edward confirmed. "Built on the Inverted Peaks. Welcome to the magical world, Miss Granger."

I stared at the impossible vista spread out before us, at the inverted mountains and the floating islands and the castle-that-wasn't-quite-a-castle, and felt something shift inside my chest.

Terror was still there—a constant background hum of panic that I was pretty sure wasn't going away anytime soon. And grief, raw and aching, for the family that no longer remembered me.

But underneath all of that, something else was stirring. Something that felt almost like... wonder?

"It's beautiful," I whispered, not quite meaning to say it out loud.

Edward didn't respond, but I felt him shift slightly in the saddle, adjusting our trajectory as Draven began to descend toward the largest island.

As we got closer, I could make out more details. The main building—the castle-modern hybrid—had towers that seemed to disappear into the clouds above. The glass sections reflected the strange sky, making it look like the building was partially made of light. And at the very edge of the island, separated from the main campus by what looked like a significantly longer bridge, was a smaller structure. Darker. More isolated.

Something about it made my skin prickle with unease.

Draven touched down on a landing platform near the edge of the main island, his talons scraping against stone as he folded his wings. The magical ropes around my waist dissolved, and Edward swung down from the saddle with easy grace.

I tried to follow, but my legs had apparently forgotten how to work. I made it about halfway down before my knees buckled and I would have face-planted if Edward hadn't caught me.

"Steady," he said, his hands firm on my shoulders until I found my balance. There was no impatience in his voice, just that same careful steadiness.

I stepped back as soon as I was stable, putting distance between us. My whole body was shaking—from fear, from exhaustion, from the emotional whiplash of the last few hours.

Edward studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he reached up and ran a hand along Draven's neck in what was clearly a dismissal. The dragon made that rumbling-purr sound again, nuzzled Edward's shoulder with surprising gentleness, and then launched himself back into the air.

I watched him go, feeling absurdly abandoned.

"Come on," Edward said, already walking toward a nearby building. "The Headmaster is waiting."