Page 94 of Secrets of Avalon
I gasp and twist in Hawke’s arms. “It talked. He talked. In my head. The unicorn talked.”
Kellan’s somber face cracks a smile. “They can do that.”
Cyrus snorts, almost like he’s laughing with Kellan. Then his gaze locks with mine again. Be wary of Atlas, lady queen. He is not what he seems. Though neither are you, I suppose.
I jerk back against Hawke. My heart pounds in my chest. What does he mean? How can Atlas not be what he seems? And what about me?
Melinda? Sweet girl, what is wrong? Hawke asks immediately inside my head.
He startled me with what he said. He said Atlas isn’t what he seems. And that I’m not either, I tell Hawke through our bond.
Atlas is a chimera, of course he’s not what he seems. And we already know your magick is unlike any we’ve ever seen as well.
I swallow and take a deeper breath. Right. Right.
Hawke kisses my temple and urges his horse forward, toward the front of the group and Kellan follows just on our left.
We crest a hill and spread out before us is one of the most beautiful cities I've ever seen. Vandimoor sprawls across the valley, a breathtaking fusion of crystal, stone, and magic that defies everything I thought I knew about architecture.
My heart races, pounding so hard its in my throat. I suck in a sharp breath. "It's... It's so beautiful," I whisper.
Towering spires of gleaming white stone pierce the sky, their surfaces alive with intricate designs that seem to dance in the morning light. My gaze traces the delicate lacework of rose-gold arches connecting the buildings, marveling at how something so massive can appear so fragile.
Rivers of glistening and glowing water weave through the city like luminous veins. They cascade down in glittering waterfalls, feeding pools that pulse with ethereal light. The sight stirs something deep within me, a primal recognition of magic that makes my skin tingle.
My fingers twitch, longing to touch, to confirm that this dreamlike vision is real. I lean forward in the saddle, drinking in every detail. The graceful bridges spanning the glowing streams. The ethereal pools that seem to breathe with an inner light.
On the far side of the city, atop a hill to the north, a palace rises like a crystal dream given form. Sunlight fractures against its facets, scattering beams of pure radiance across the city. The sight steals my breath away, leaving me lightheaded and giddy.
"Welcome home, my sweet girl," Hawke murmurs, his breath tickling my ear.
"It's unbelievable," I breathe, unable to tear my eyes away. A lump forms in my throat, emotion threatening to overwhelm me. “I’ve never really had a home. We moved so often. If it wasn’t the Inquisitors after us it was the Enclave. My mother wanted nothing to do with either.” I let my emotions and thoughts flow through our bond. “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for giving me a place to belong.”
“You already have.”
Episode 11
CHAPTER 35
Save Her
Hawke Stormblood
I savor Melinda's warmth in my arms, her wonder at Vandimoor flooding our bond, when shouts of alarm cut through the calm. My body tenses and I tighten my arms around Melinda, scanning for threats.
"What's going on?" Melinda asks, her voice tight with concern.
Before I can respond, movement catches my eye. Atlas slides off Cyrus’ back, sprinting back the way we came. Behind him I see it—a roiling mass of darkness on the horizon, devouring the morning light.
"Fuck," I spit out. "More golems."
I dig my heels into our mount's flanks, spurring us into a gallop. "We need to reach the city!" I shout to the others. "Ride!" The city looms ahead yet seems impossibly distant.
Melinda leans back into my arms as we lurch forward. "What about Atlas?" Melinda yells over the thundering hoofbeats. “Why is he going toward it?”
"He’s buying us time," Kellan growls nearby, his dragon guardians rippling in the air around him. "We can't waste it."
As we race toward Vandimoor, I divide my attention between our path and the encroaching darkness. The shadow gains ground, tendrils reaching out like grasping fingers. Within its depths, I glimpse the now-familiar half-formed shapes of golems, eager for battle, the council’s way of making up for not having an army of their own.