I sighed, then folded up the note and put it carefully back into my pack. We’d get to Camp HaveHeart tomorrow and would soon see all those we left behind. Kevin was right in that whatever reaction we got wasn’t going to be good. I hoped they would still be happy to see me, even if they hated my guts. And I didn’t even want to think of Justin and Ryan being all buddy-buddy, going on adventures together, fighting side by side, taking back their country. It’d lead to one night when they’d look across the fire at each other, and then all of a sudden they’re butt-fucking and Ryan is telling Justin he made a mistake with me and that he loves him forever, and they’ll probably have adopted a baby by now and named it something idiotically trendy like Mango or Lima Bean, and then I’ll show up and Ryan will be like, “Sorry, Sam. You left, and now Justin owns my heart and Lima Bean owns my soul, and we are happy working on our organic farm and—”
God, I hated Lima Bean, and I didn’t even know if she existed.
There were four other things in my pack.
A set of spare trousers, because I was always taught you should never go on a trip without a clean pair of trousers.
The other things?
Grimoires.
Mine.
Morgan’s.
Myrin’s.
In the past year, I had never opened either of theirs.
Myrin’s, because I couldn’t get over the anger I felt toward him.
Morgan’s, because my heart still broke every time I looked at it.
GW had said nothing about their Grimoires, only instructing me on my own.
In fact, Morgan and Myrin hadn’t been mentioned much at all.
That was something I didn’t push, only because I was still mired in my own guilt.
“You look troubled, pretty,” a voice rumbled from above me. I tilted my head back to see a glittering eye watching me. I was sitting against his side, my back warmed by the fire that burned within him. “You worried about tomorrow?”
I shrugged, looking away.
“It’s okay to be scared.”
“I’m not scared.” It was easier to lie.
“Okay. I am.”
I didn’t expect that. “You are?”
He rumbled lowly, the tip of his tail twitching where it was curled near my feet.
“Why?”
“We’ve been gone a long time. Things can change. Things have changed. We’re not the same as we used to be. We can’t expect them to be either.”
“What if—” I sighed. “We always knew this day would come.”
“We did, yes.”
“And we’ve been looking forward to it since the moment we left.”
“This is true.”
“Then why do we feel this way?”
He didn’t speak for a while, just kept breathing in deep and letting it out slowly. It was soothing, and it helped a little. He said, “Because we don’t yet know if we made the right decision in going with the Great White. In doing what your destiny expected of you.”
“I still hate that word,” I grumbled.
“I can see why. I think most people that have one grow to despise it. But it’s what you do with it in the end that counts the most.”
“That was pretty lame.”
“And yet, there it is.”
“Ugh.”
“Right?”
I looked back up at him again. His eye was still on me. “What if I’m not me anymore?”
“Who would you be?”
“I was Sam of Wilds before. Now I’m… not that.”
“Do you feel different?”
I did. Magic had always been a part of me, even if I hadn’t known it. And when I finally became aware of who I was, what I could do, it was always flitting along the edges of my vision, those bright colors that only I could see. When I used them, when I pulled them into me and shoved them outward, there was always a sense of force behind it, like I was exerting copious amounts of energy to use it.
Now, though? Now it was the easiest thing in the world. I was mired in the green and gold, moving in concert with it, manipulating it at whim. I’d seen the extent of Randall’s magic, the power of his lightning, and the strength of Morgan’s in his containment and compression, and they had always been drained after, and rightly so. Magic had a cost to it, a price to pay for using it.
A ceiling, even.
And when I was an apprentice, I knew that. I experienced that. Anytime I was forced to use large quantities of magic, having it burst from my head and heart, I was weak and practically useless afterward.
It wasn’t like that anymore.
And even though he didn’t say anything out loud, I knew it concerned GW. Whether because of the implications of my strength or the potential to use me as a weapon, I didn’t know. If I turned Dark, there would be no Resistance. They would be wiped out before they could even fight back. I knew it worried him, especially when he tried to drill into my head that I had to depend on myself and no one else. “A cornerstone is a human,” he’d told me. “Humans are fallible. Fragile. They bend and then they break. Or worse, they turn on a wizard and force them into a spiral, taking everything they hold dear away. Why should you have so much faith in a single person? Why can you not stand on your own?”
That had resonated with me for the longest time.
It was bullshit. It had to be bullshit.
Because I firmly believed that Morgan and Randall wouldn’t have encouraged my relationship with Ryan after all they’d been through if they hadn’t thought it was worth it. That it was the right thing to do.
But there were thoughts, late at night while I lay in the hut I’d built deep in the Dark Woods under the Great White’s instruction, where I wondered if they’d lied about that too.
“I’m Sam of Dragons now,” I told Kevin. “It’s not the same.”
“Pretty badass, if I say so myself.”
“Because you’re one of those dragons.”
“Well, yes. But still. It’s a good name for you. But it’s just a name. It doesn’t define you.”
I snorted. “We both know that’s not true. The whole point of this was to be defined. To become this person I am now.”
He shifted a little behind me, lowering his head until he pressed his snout against my forehead, a semblance of a kiss. “A name is a name is a name,” he said.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Or does it make all the sense. I’m quite philosophical, as you know.”
“I do?”
“Above all else, pretty, you are Sam. Whatever title you have doesn’t change that. Maybe you’ve grown since last they’ve seen you, but in the end, you’re still the Sam they know. That will never change.”
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
“I know.”
I then gave voice to words that were thick and sticky, clinging to my throat and tongue. “What if there’s no place for us anymore? What if they’ve moved on without us?”
“Then we remind them why we belong with them. To them. For they’re ours, just as much as we’re theirs. They’ll see. In time.”
“Do you truly believe that?”
“I do,” he said quietly. “With all of my hearts.”
I looked back down at my pack and the Grimoires I knew were inside.
“You ever going to open them?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know. One day, maybe. But not today.”
“He’d want you to.”
I tensed at that. “Don’t.”
“Sam—”
“Please.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
I laughed hollowly. “Then whose fault was it?”
“Myrin’s. Always him. Never you. You are not responsible for his actions.”
“If I hadn’t been tricked by that bastard Caleb, then we—”
“And that was Caleb. Not you. It was him and Ruv and Myrin. Morgan did what he did because he knew you would do the same for him. He loved you, Sam. More than anything else in the world. Of course he would step between you and the Dark. You would have done the same for him, as you would for any of us. And you showed just how strong you were when you let Caleb go. I know that must have been difficult.”
“I’m not like them. I can’t just… kill. No matter how much I want to. But it was close.”
“I know. I felt it.”
“Stupid dragons.”
He chuckled softly. Then, “You’ll have to. Kill. It’ll come down to it, I think. Either you or Myrin. If I could do it for you, I would. Your heart is expansive, Sam, but it’s also soft. I would carry that burden for you if I could. I have no qualms about eating men.”
“Even though you’re a vegetarian?”
“Even though. I can shit out some bones and flesh if it means keeping you safe.”
“That’s… disgusting. Sweet, but mostly disgusting.”
I felt his breath on the back of my neck. “We’re almost home. And then we’ll see what we see. It’ll be okay, Sam. I promise. They’ll understand in the end. We did what we did for them. We’ll set things right. I promise.”
And I wanted to believe him. With everything I had.
Long after he’d fallen asleep and the sounds of the forest at night echoed around us, I looked up and saw a break in the clouds, the inky black sky beyond. I let myself have something that I hadn’t in a very long time.