The silence pressed in on me. I wondered if there were rats down here.

What had Blake been doing down here, so far below the academy? How did he even know about this place?

Abruptly, the corridor opened up. I’d entered a vast chamber, the ceiling vaulting upwards overhead.

A torch flickered on the far wall. I took a few steps forward, then another...

And came face to face with a massive skull hulking out of the darkness.

Hollow eye sockets stared straight through me.

A dragon’s skull.

It was enormous.

I don’t think I had realized until that moment how large the dragons had been. The sculptures in the Dragon Court were huge, yes, but I’d assumed that was due to artistic license.

Now I was starting to understand the sheer scale of the beasts that had once flown over Sangratha.

No wonder the vampires had adored them. They were fucking terrifying to look at, even in death. I could only imagine how much more daunting one would be in flesh and blood.

The dragon’s bone structure was jagged and angular, with ridges along its white skull rising up to form a crown of horns. Sharp, serrated teeth pierced from its gaping mouth, some cracked and crumbling with age, but most still jagged and fierce. They looked as if they could still tear through my flesh.

I reached out a hand cautiously and touched one. Sharp. I drew my hand back as if I’d broken an unwritten rule by touching the bones of the dead.

Are you seeing all of this? I asked curiously. Can you see? Can you still hear me?

I can. It’s strange. I’m close enough to your flesh that I’m getting the visuals, but they’re slightly blurred and a little faded. An echo of what you’re seeing. She was quiet for a moment. These creatures... They were really something, weren’t they?

I’m glad there are none around now, I replied. Can you imagine me actually trying to ride one of these things? If this is its head, I can’t imagine how big its body must have been. And those horns... Did they have them all over or just on their heads?

Maybe riders used saddles? Orcades mused. It would certainly have been safer that way.

I don’t think there was anything safe about dragon riding, I replied.

As my eyes adjusted, I noticed more corridors branching off from the chamber in which I stood. Over each archway a name was etched in stone. Orphos, Mortis, Avari, and... Drakharrow.

Blake’s house.

It was obvious I’d have to choose one of the four. It might as well be the devil I knew.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the Drakharrow corridor.

My eyes darted from side to side. Along the walls were massive alcoves. Each one housed a dragon skull. They varied slightly in shape and size.

All of these dragons must have been Inferni. The red dragons that flew for House Drakharrow. I remembered what Blake had claimed. That the Inferni breed was volatile and unreliable.

If there were still dragons, I’d be stuck riding a red. Flying an Inferni for House Drakharrow.

I thought of the dragon statue I’d climbed. Nyxaris was his name. A Duskdrake. They were the dragons of House Avari.

I wondered if they’d been better-tempered than the Inferni. For the sake of their riders, I hoped so.

I walked slowly along the corridor.

Even in death, these creatures were indomitable. It felt as if they were watching me, their hollow eye sockets fixed on me as I moved through the catacomb, intruding on their graves.

Where were the rest of their bones buried? Or had they been burned? What would it take to burn a dragon? Was it even possible?

A rustling sound startled me. I looked down just in time to see a rat scurrying along the floor. I pressed my lips together to stifle a scream, my heart hammering in my ribs.

It’s only a rat, my mother said mildly.

Oh, and you had a lot of contact with rats in your life, did you? I shuddered. Rats. I hate rats.

The corridor was beginning to widen as I walked.

Soon, I could see moonlight spilling in from outside. I ran towards it.

The passageway had opened to a view of the sea.

As I walked along the open corridor, I began to notice caves and openings dotting the cliffside ahead.

These must have once been dragon lairs. Or nests.

The knowledge hit me like a wave. Dragons had lived once. Truly lived. Mated and had their children here in this place.

Bloodwing Academy had not just been dominated by highbloods back then. It had been a place for riders to come and to learn and study. And they had brought their dragons with them.

I felt a strange pang of sorrow. A sense of loneliness I hadn’t anticipated. A few hundred years ago and I could have been attending Bloodwing with fellow riders. People like me.

Now here I was, alone.

I had friends, I reminded myself. Florence and Naveen. Even Vaughn, if I could still call him that.

But there was a difference between them and I. Almost as much of one as there was between blightborn and highbloods.

I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. Blake had a head start and I had no idea if he had even come this way. But I kept walking, following the trail until I reached another staircase, this one leading back underground.

I hesitated for a moment, then descended the steps. This stairwell was even more narrow than the others had been. The air was colder here, the walls slick with moisture.

As I walked, the passage grew more cramped, the ceiling lowered, and the darkness felt more oppressive. My hands were coated with damp slime from trailing them along the walls. I wiped them on my cloak.

The stairs bottomed out and I walked along a crooked tunnel.

We were beneath the sea.

The restrictiveness of the small stifling space nagged at me, but I pressed on.

After what felt like hours, I finally reached another set of steps. Fortunately, these ones led upwards.

I mounted them gratefully, my legs burning from the effort as I ascended. The stale air of the tunnel gave way to something fresher.

At the top of the steps, I stood on a landing. A wooden ladder led to a hatch over my head, like one that might be found in a cellar.

I climbed the ladder and pressed my ear against the wood of the hatch, straining to hear. The faint murmur of voices drifted down and the sound of music, light and lively.

I pressed the hatch open and was greeted with a wave of rich scents. Ale and herbs. Garlic and rosemary.

It was a storeroom. Kegs of ale and crates of bottles of liquor were stacked in corners, while bundles of herbs hung from the rafters. Root vegetables were piled in sacks and stacked in wooden crates on high shelves.

The voices and laughter grew louder as I slipped into the room and closed the hatch softly behind me.

Slowly, I opened the door leading out of the storeroom just a crack and peeked out.

I blinked as a warm light spilled inwards.

A tavern. Much larger than I’d expected. Bustling and bright. Cozy in its disorderliness.

I caught the scent of spilled ale, roasting chicken, and freshly baked bread mixed with the faintest hint of pipe smoke. The sound of laughter and conversation floated toward me. Someone was playing a harp over in the corner. A lighthearted song that made my feet twitch.

My eyes roamed over the room. Besides a bar lined with stools, the room was filled with round tables and chairs, most of them full of patrons. The walls were lined with bookshelves, every inch crammed full of books. Some patrons stood by the shelves, holding volumes in their hands or searching the shelves.

I watched as a man wearing a pointed red hat went up to the bar and requested a room. The place doubled as an inn then, as well as a bookstore. Tripled?

I scanned the crowd of people but there was no sign of Blake, though I did see a few people who looked like they might be highbloods. He could have slipped into any of the adjoining rooms or disappeared up the flight of stairs leading to the guest rooms.