Stone Sacrifice ✔️Chronicles of Grey BOOK ONE [COMPLETED]

Chapter Thirty-One

As the dragons landed, I put my hand in my pocket and touched the Stone. The Bloodstone.

I suspected that there would be an attack the moment that I landed as surly the king had been warned of my arrival, even if the Grey Stone never told him, so I wanted to be sure that I was ready. I had feared touching the Stone before the Knights came in case it activated my own magic, and I feared touching it in the air as I had no idea what it actually did, so I had my hand in the hidden pocket of my cloak when I slipped off the dragon onto the hard stone castle roof.

I tugged the leather away, braced myself...

And felt... nothing.

No. Not nothing. There was something but it was so low of a murmer in the back of my mind that I couldn't seem to focus on it. It wasn't at all like the link to the dragons which was easily ignored itself. This was something that I was sure could become completely forgotten.

I felt a flash of worry — did it do nothing? Was the magic in it dead or nearly? Had I went through so much for nothing?

"You will remain here." Said the blue-cloaked knight as if he were capable of forcing me if I did not comply. As it was, I wanted to stay here so I simply raised an eyebrow to show amusement and nodded.

My hand slipped out of my pocket, my fingers leaving the stone though for some reason they did not want to at all. The murmur I heard was still there, faint and distant and forgettable and hopefully not useless.

The roof was wide and flat, only interrupted by the occasional slanted arch for doors, posts for lanterns, and the three twig high lip around the edge.

The castle was shaped a like a C with two grand towers coming off each end and a narrow strip that was the bridge separating the castle into the north wing and the south wing. I currently stood upon the south wing and so I got a glorious view of the city.

Or what should have been glorious.

I frowned at the view — it had somehow become worse during my months of absence, and I suspected that Marqis was somehow even worse of a ruler then is father had been — something not many would believe possible, I was sure. Looking closer, I could see that the richest part of the city was no more. Even the most highest of blood was in poverty now.

Or perhaps they were dead. I had no way of knowing right yet. I would have to beat Marqis before I was privy to the state of Qa'elah.

But I felt nervous now, my confidance leaving me alone with my fear of failure. I had expected a lot from the Bloodstone. My only hope was that it would become what I needed, when I needed it, or that the White Stone could defeat the powers of the Grey Stone with only the help of my own. I was powerful, I knew. I could feel that, like energy running through me constantly but comfortably. Whereas before I had felt lesser than many around me, I now felt taller, stronger, more agile, as if I had grown.

It allowed me to hear Marqis climb the steps to the roof, even from several dozen twigs away.

"Meira."

His voice sent a shiver up my spine. A shiver of anger, hate... and of fear.

I turned and faced the man. "Marqis." I said. It sounded like we were greeting at a ball, a meeting between two important people who were not enemies at all. It was casual, even in its impropriety.

He was dressed as such, too. His clothing was of rich silk dyed in the brightest of blues and the darkest of greys. His shoes were polished to a shine. He wore his robe upon his back with crystals gleaming black of dragon crystals, and his crown sat upon his head of hair which gleamed with health in the bright sunshine. His eyes, I saw, were a deep blue. His face was calm and relaxed, though I saw the sweat on his brow and was sure he, too, was afraid.