Skies of Ice and Fury
Read the storyThe clouds stirred underneath me. My eyes were heavy when I tried to open them, the world still a blur, shapes melting together in pale light. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming—floating somewhere soft and endless, weightless in the sky. Then reality crept back in piece by piece. My ankle didn’t throb. That realization cut through the fog first. The pain that had haunted every step, every breath, every heartbeat since the forest was… gone. I frowned slightly, my thoughts sluggish. That wasn’t possible. The air smelled unfamiliar too—clean and cool, tinged with faint smoke and something herbal. Not the damp scent of pine needles or wet earth. Not the shared dormitory smell of Skyward Academy. Somewhere nearby, a fire crackled softly. I forced my eyelids open again, squinting against the brightness. “Sybilla?” I moaned, the name slipping from my lips before my mind caught up. She smiled, her face inches from mine. “Tassa.” I blinked lazily, the world still swimming, her features soft and blurred around the edges. Dark hair. Warm brown eyes. That familiar scar near her eyebrow from when we’d both been thrown off our training pegasus two years ago. Comfort flooded my chest. Relief so strong it hurt. Then my eyes snapped fully open. Every nerve in my body jolted awake. “Sybilla?!” I breathed, voice cracking. She scooted back quickly to give me space as I jerked upright in the massive bed, white furs sliding into my lap. The sudden movement made my head spin, but I ignored it, staring at her like she might vanish if I blinked. She was really here. Standing in the middle of Talric’s chambers. My heart hammered. “What—how—what are you doing here?” “The question is what are you doing here?” a voice sounded from the edge of the bed. Solen. My heart lurched at the sight of him. Firelight from the hearth caught the sharp lines of his face, carving shadows along his cheekbones and jaw. His arms were crossed over his chest, posture rigid, authority rolling off him in quiet waves. His riding leathers were still dusted with frost, dark hair damp from melted snow, like he’d come straight from the sky and never bothered to rest. His eyes—storm-dark and intense—were locked on me. Not relief. Not amusement. Fury. Behind me, Sybilla turned with a grin far too wide for the tension in the room. “Solen brought me here. It was the only way to wake me from the coma. Your turn.” My stomach twisted. My throat suddenly felt dry. I hadn’t planned on explaining this. Hadn’t planned