Eona: The Last Dragoneye

definite form as it comes to earth, so it is easier to recognize and catch.”

“How do you do it?”

“It is always about balance. Lightning is hot energy, so you catch it with cold.” He flicked the captured lightning again, making the glass ring. “You will see when we are in the energy world. I’ll block the ten dragons while you practice.”

I flexed my hands. The desire to commune with my dragon and finally use my true power was overwhelming, but so was my mistrust of Ido. What if he did not hold back the other dragons?

“You don’t trust me,” he said. “It is written plain on your face.”

“Why should I?”

“True,” he said. “Never rely on trust. Rely on the fact that neither of us wants to lose our power. And we cannot save it without each other.”

“Mutual survival,” I whispered. It was my original pledge to Kygo. The echo brought an ache to my throat.

Ido’s keen eyes watched me. “Exactly.”

I placed the glass lightning on the sand between us. “Show me how to make one of these.”

“Take your sandals off and press your feet into the earth’s energy, as well as your hands,” Ido ordered. “Use the gateways.”

I settled opposite him and dug my soles and palms past the warmth of the top sand to the cooler depths.

Ido gave a nod of approval and did the same. “Wait until I have united with my dragon, then follow.” He gave a knowing half-smile. “I believe you can now feel that moment within me.”

I stared down at the sand, bristling at his snort of amusement.

His breathing smoothed into the rhythm of mind-sight as silver flooded his eyes again. Then, deep within my body, I felt his joy as he called the Rat Dragon.

My turn.

Trying to ignore the sensual link to him, I focused on my own pathways of Hua. The air I drew in was warm and salty, the acrid remnants from the lightning strike lingering at its edges.

I held each breath in my Axis as Ido had taught me, the swell of energy slowly easing the tension in my body and opening the way into the celestial plane. Around me the beach shivered and folded into the streaming colors of the energy world: the surging silver of the water, the rainbow swirls of the earth and air, and the tiny specks of bright Hua that were the brief burn of circling flies.

“Good,” Ido said.

I watched the flow of Hua through the long meridians of his transparent body, spinning the seven points of power into dense vitality. Yet the dark gap still cut into the purple glow of his crown. Beyond him the villagers watched, their energy bodies bright against the dull backdrop of their cottages.

Above, the Rat Dragon circled the glory of my Mirror Dragon. The blue brilliance of his scales was like flowing water around the fiery crimson of her sinuous body. I could not tell if their power was diminished in any way — they were both magnificent. As if suddenly aware of my attention, the Rat Dragon turned, his white beard half covering the iridescent blue pearl tucked beneath his chin.

But I was already lost in the depthless spirit eyes of my dragon. She lowered the immense wedge of her head to me, and I saw the golden glow of the pearl at her throat. I called our shared name, my joy leaping to meet the rush of her answer. Golden power, warmed with deep, woody notes of cinnamon, filled my senses.

My mind-sight split between earth and heaven. Ido’s Hua body sat before my own on the warm sand of the beach. At the same time, I was high above the cove and village, watching the swirl of energy colors and ancient pulsing ley lines through my dragon’s eyes. Together, she and I looked inland, noting the Hua of many bodies moving toward the endless flux of the silvered sea. Around us the blue one circled, weaving power that blocked the relentless need of the other ten.

“The bereft dragons. They can’t feel us!” I said.

“We are shielding your presence from them,” Ido said. “We can’t hold it for long. Show your dragon what you want in your mind, then use your dragon sight to find the lightning.”

With a thrill of excitement, I pictured Ido’s frozen flame of energy, then opened myself to the dizzying shift into full dragon sight, my earthly body dropping away from my senses.

Below us, the world separated into walking, crawling, flying, surging Hua. We felt the ebb and flow of energy through us and gloried in the delicate balance. We turned our ancient eyes to the dark clouds, tasting the molten energy that snapped across the cooler heights of the above-world. We watched the tiny rips in the cold Hua, each one birthing a streak of forked heat.

Find it. The voice was barely a whisper, deep within me. Find it. Below.

The soft insistence broke through my concentration, pulling me back into my body.

“Did you say something?” Yet it did not feel like Ido’s mindvoice. Nor did it have the strength and pull of Kinra’s need.

“No.” Ido said. His silvery Hua leaped into a quicker flow through his meridians. “Is it the ten? Are they coming?”

“No!” I did not want to lose this chance to use my power. “It’s not them. It’s nothing.”

I clenched my teeth and pictured the lightning again, straining to hold the image as I called the Mirror Dragon. She was there, waiting, the embrace of her power once again raising me above my earthbound body and narrow senses. We spiraled into the bright energy world. Power flowed in and out of us, the exchange strong and smooth, beating a rhythm of balance and harmony. Our ancient eyes searched the sky, waiting for the—

Find it, the voice whispered. Below. Find it.

Below? Our attention switched to the ground. Hundreds of points of Hua had gathered in a neat fan on the hill above the village. Ranks of them. Slowly moving down toward the sea. Toward us.

Ranks?

“Ido, those are soldiers!” The sudden understanding wrenched me out of the energy world. I squinted in the harsh sunlight and pitched forward, reeling from the abrupt loss of my dragon connection. “Soldiers, not villagers!”

Ido’s hands caught me. “I know. I should have realized sooner.” His eyes were clear amber: no silver threaded through them.

“We have to warn the others,” I said. “I have to find Kygo.” I hauled myself upright, lurching to one side on the soft sand. My senses were still half caught in the energy world.

Ido stood, blocking my way. “It’s too late, Eona. There is no way they’ll hold back that many soldiers. You and I will have to stop them.”

His words pulled me up. “With our power? Like you did at the palace?” I shook my head, as much to stop the sickening memory of burning, screaming soldiers as to refuse. “I can’t do that.”

“You saw what’s coming over the hill. We are totally outnumbered.”

He was right. I looked up at the quiet village, spread around the crescent cove. In a few minutes it would be a battleground.

“I can’t kill people with my power.” I could barely carry the weight of the thirty-six who had already died at my hands.

“Not even to save your friends? Your beloved emperor?” He cocked his head. “Not even to save yourself, Eona?”

I looked back up at the village, my heart pounding. The dragons were for harmony, for life. Not killing. Not war.

“We can do it together,” Ido said. “I’ll hold off the ten dragons and you can use the lightn—”

I saw him register the same soft zing in the air as I did, a moment before the dull, wet thump of impact. He spun to the left and staggered a step, then crashed to his knees, eyes wide. An arrowhead protruded through his chest, blood seeping bright red into the dun cloth of his tunic. With an agonized gasp, he collapsed.

Yells erupted from behind the seawall as the villagers scattered. I dropped to the sand, instinct overriding