Hidden Dragon (The Treasure of Paragon Book 7) by Genevieve Jack (best ereader for manga txt) 📗

sure he’d fall on his ass. Everything was white and slick, from the ground to the trees whose leafless branches were encased in ice. Even the occasional evergreen wore a coat of snow and ice that turned its needles white.

“You have to admit it’s kinda beautiful,” Clarissa said from inside the fur-lined hood of her parka. “Like a winter wonderland.”

Avery flexed the fingers of her gloves. “Fuck that. If I want a personal experience with ice, I’ll order a margarita.”

Dianthe snorted. “I’m with Avery on this one. Fairies were definitely not built for winter.”

“Why is it so cold here?” Clarissa asked. “The rest of the island is warm all year, right? It’s volcanic.”

“Magic.” Nathaniel brought his pipe to his lips and lit up. “The witches intentionally make their kingdom uninhabitable to non-witches. If you ever actually visit one of their communities, you’ll find the environment there as warm and comfortable as the rest of Ouros, but to get there, you have to go through this.”

“It wasna always thus,” Xavier said. “Only after the war with Paragon did they take this step. Dragon’s canna freeze, ye ken, but our mountain horses donna fare well on the ice.”

“If the Obsidian Guard ever did attack, they’d be slowed significantly, giving the witches time to wage a full-on magical battle. Even dragons fear witch magic. I suppose it worked to our advantage today though, considering Eleanor didn’t reach us in time.” Sylas scanned the trees around them, feeling oddly nervous. “Aborella didn’t happen to tell you what Skelna looks like, did she?”

“No,” Dianthe said. “Only that she’d find us if we came here.”

Sylas cast a questioning glance in the direction of his brothers. “Any suggestions?”

Nathaniel blew purple smoke toward the trees. He watched his spell freeze a few feet from his mouth and fall like dust to the ice. He frowned. “Hmm. Well, I’m out of ideas.”

Xavier made a grunting sound. “Move yer dragon arses. I wager she’ll find us faster if we make ourselves a bit easier to notice.”

He waddled forward, slipping and sliding among the trees even with spiked boots. Sylas and the others followed. They hadn’t gone far before three hoofed beasts galloped toward them, their shaggy heads white with frozen breath. The creatures passed them without even looking in their direction.

“Now what do you suppose they’re running from?” Nathaniel puffed nervously on his pipe.

“Sylas, do you see that tree?” Dianthe tugged on his elbow.

“I see lots of trees.”

“It has a face,” she whispered. She pointed toward one tree in particular.

Sylas watched its branches sway in a wind that didn’t exist, its extremities long and crooked, the tips frozen to sharp points. As they watched in wide-eyed horror, the tree pulled its roots from the ice and took a monstrous step.

“You know how we said we would save each other?” Dianthe squeezed tight to his side. “Your turn.”

“Xavier!” Sylas called to his brother, but it was too late. Skelna’s hand, which was no more than a collection of five frozen branches, swung through the air and stabbed him straight through his shoulder.

Clarissa screamed. Power exploded from her voice, throwing Skelna back at least one hundred feet.

“What’s happening to him?” Sylas rushed forward as Xavier started seizing, white foam coming from his mouth. He didn’t like how much the wound was bleeding.

Avery rushed to Xavier’s side and pressed her hand against his wound. “He’s not healing!”

“Goddess, Sylas, what is that thing?” Dianthe asked from behind him. He didn’t blame her for standing back. None of them were equipped for this.

“An animated tree,” he said to her. “A demon possessed, organic organism. I need to shift.”

“Wait!” Nathaniel grabbed his arm. “This is witch magic. It’s going to be resistant to dragon fire. Xavier’s lost consciousness and is still bleeding. Whatever that thing is, it’s poisonous to dragons.”

Avery drew her sword and stood over her mate. Her hood had knocked back from her head, and the mounting wind whipped her dark hair around her face. Skelna had closed the gap between them, her razor-sharp branches whistling through the air, her multihinged limbs reaching for Avery, stabbing and slicing. Avery circled Fairy Killer, lopping off a wooden hand, which tumbled into the snow. The trunk of the tree roared, revealing a mouth of jagged, icy teeth.

“Bloody hell, I think she’s royally pissed it off now,” Nathaniel said.

Skelna’s roots crept forward. The creature’s branches were over twice as long as Avery’s sword. Without help, she’d never get a blow in before Skelna stabbed her. Sylas took charge. “Clarissa, you were able to shove it with your voice. Can you do it again? Perhaps use the other trees to hold it?”

Clarissa nodded. She opened her mouth and sang. The trees around Skelna reached for her, animated by Clarissa’s magic. Branch tangled with branch, freezing together as a wall of wind caged the demon in. Skelna fought. Branches flew past their heads. Avery dodged and thrust, trying to get a clear shot at the trunk of the tree. The demon wailed like a banshee.

“Nathaniel,” Sylas yelled. “Can you use your magic to transport dragon fire into its mouth?”

“I can try,” he said with a tip of his head. He puffed on his pipe and blew a perfect bubble of smoke.

Sylas took a deep breath and sent a spray of dragon fire toward the smoke. The flame was captured inside the hazy purple bubble.

“Let’s see if she burns from the inside,” Sylas said.

Nathaniel drew a symbol in the air with his hands and pushed. The bubble sailed into Skelna’s gaping maw. This time the demon shrieked in pain, flames flickering within its throat.

“Her branches are melting!” Dianthe yelled. “It’s working.”

Clarissa’s song couldn’t last forever. Sylas sprang forward and tore off the thickest of Skelna’s arms, casting it aside. Nathaniel followed suit, dodging the stabs and slices of her branches. Avery, not to be outdone, sank her sword into Skelna’s wooden belly. Piece by frozen piece, they dismantled the demon until she was nothing but a wailing trunk, smoking from