Grail's Dawn Book Four

By Odette C. Bell

There’s nothing left to do but fight until the end.
Dawn can’t back down. Not when so much is at stake. And those stakes only keep getting higher. Arthur Senior throws everything he has at the school. He doesn’t care who he harms – or kills – to get to her. She can’t save everyone, no matter how hard she tries.
But she’s not alone. Dawn might have started her magical journey on her own and overwhelmed, but she won’t end it that way. The school bands behind her. There’s only one person missing from her side. But she will fight for him with everything she’s got. Arthur Senior won’t know what’s hit him until Dawn rises one final time.
....
Grail’s Dawn follows a new witch and her destined king fighting a twisted magical academy and a worse fate. If you love your magical academies with action, punch, and a splash of romance, grab Grail’s Dawn Book Four today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Odette C. Bell
• Release date: Sep 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005928827

Book preview

Chapter 1

The dream doesn’t last. What dream can?

As I stare down into Arthur’s gaze, and his defiant eyes stare back, things start to shift. The dream just drifts away. Fortunately, the first thing to go is the graveyard. It crumbles behind me, and I hope it’s never seen again. It might have been nothing more than an aspect of a vision, but I know it was a symbol for something much larger. Both of us are now far closer to death.

The last thing to go from my mind is Arthur’s gaze. His steely eyes remain locked on me until they disappear and shift back into oblivion. No. Not oblivion. He is not dead yet. And neither am I.

With a gasp, I’m back in my body, and I rocket awake. I may not have the strength to actually push up yet, but the sense of my consciousness hitting my mind is like a bullet striking a wall. Ripples even push out – little snippets of memories, old beliefs, and most importantly, broken concepts.

I slowly bring up a hand. It’s crusted over from where the dragon’s assault burnt me. I don’t stare at the blistered skin, but instead, I stare past at the power within.

I just learned something fundamental.

On the cusp of giving up, I came back.

I glance over to where the door was in my astral traveling vision – the one with the light underneath it. Except that door doesn’t exist here. It’s not part of the real world.

I shove up. It’s murder. My limbs shake as if someone is trying to turn them to dust. With a grating groan that shakes through my throat, I shift over to the real door. It looks like it’s solid metal. Wait – who am I kidding? It’s solid magic. When I bring my fingers too close, I can feel that violent crackling. I clench my teeth. Returning to my body and remaining awake for as long as I have now is a real achievement. But it won’t get me out of here. And unless I can, the ministry will soon come.

No doubt the dragon has some form of direct communication with Arthur Senior, and the bastard is on his way for me.

He will assault the school to get to me, even if he hasn’t already started.

Come on, I whisper under my breath.

I push my fingers close to the door again. This time, I use a different kind of concentration. I drive my attention into the tips of my fingers until they’re like little scanning poles.

I’m trying to detect any imperfections in the magical field. It’s similar to what I did back in the ministry when I saved Timothy. But unfortunately, I’m not that lucky.

There’s nothing. I continue to waft my fingers over the wall a few more times, but I come up empty-handed every time.

I grit my teeth.

I stare around the rest of the room. There’s got to be something. There….

I glance down.

While I’ve stared at my hands before, I haven’t truly paid attention to them.

When I accepted that ring in my astral traveling vision, I didn’t honestly expect it would come through to the real world with me. It’s not like my soul sword, after all. But there’s something glimmering on my wedding finger.

It’s not a solid gold band. But it’s the hint of one.

Frowning, I clutch it. I can almost feel it.

It looks like it needs to be drawn out by something.

I suddenly get a strike of inspiration. Maybe it needs Pendragon blood to seal the spell? But that spell book is not with me. Presumably, it’s back in the tunnels where I left it.

Damn it all to hell.

I do not give up. I’m only getting started. I go back to the door. I really scan it with all my might. And that’s when I finally detect just the smallest imperfection. It’s tiny. It’s microscopic. It’s so small, it might just be in my mind, but I hope like hell it isn’t. My heart thunders with the possibility that I might actually get out of here.

I close my eyes and concentrate. I really fix my attention forward. I try to make that crack as large as I possibly can.

While it sounds crazy, I’m a little nervous to transport in the real world. I’ve only done it while astral traveling, and while everyone has told me that it’s much harder, it isn’t to me. Astral traveling feels more natural to me. It’s the real world where I have most of my troubles.

I force a breath through my teeth. Then I gather the gumption to allow magic to spill over me. Is it strong? Yes and no. It’s been stronger. I’m certainly weaker after my fight with that dragon. One can’t just click their fingers and get rid of deep burns like mine. But they can click their fingers and choose to ignore what they cannot face right now. They can click their fingers and focus their mind forward like a laser, like a path that leads to the people they must save.

That is exactly what I do now. It focuses my meager magic until it’s like that aforementioned path.

All of a sudden, I do it. It’s like ripping a Band-Aid off. I shove my mind forward, and with magic collecting all around me, I transport. For half a second there, I don’t think it’s going to be enough, and I think all I’m going to end up doing is smashing my body into the door. But it works, and soon I arrive on the other side of the door. There’s a big problem, though. Space here hasn’t actually figured out that it’s real space. It’s undifferentiated magic for a few seconds. It boggles the mind. But I just focus. I take a step forward, and that seems to be encouragement for a floor to form. The corridor spreads out in front of me.

I don’t know who is designing this space, and I don’t know if it’s intimately linked to the dragon insofar as it now understands that I’ve broken out. But that set of stairs doesn’t mess around. It leads down. I must be quite high up because from this vantage, I can see the door to the crypt. And most importantly? The dragon.

I hold a breath in my chest. There’s no question in my mind – I am going to defeat the dragon this time. Because there was no question in my past-self’s mind. She didn’t tell me I might win. She told me that if it did not accept that I was now a Pendragon, I would beat it. I grasp hold of that encouragement. I walk down the steps. I make no attempt to ensure that my footfall doesn’t ring out. Let it advertise me like a clanging bell.

Sure enough, when I’m halfway down, the dragon rears up. It stares at me. Its eyes could penetrate through any matter. Hell, that’s not actually a hyperbole. They probably can. As its eyes are nothing more than condensed magic. I probably should’ve taken some time while I was still safe inside the prison cell to actually figure out what the dragon is. A smart practitioner – someone like Arthur – would’ve done that. Instead, all I did was encourage myself, winding myself up like I was some kind of toy.

But now I’m set on my path, there isn’t time to turn around.

You have broken out of your cell. Impressive. Stupid, however. Nothing has changed. You will be defeated, Grail.

No, I won’t be. I bring up my hand. I can see the glimmer on my finger. It’s prominent. It might not be a real ring, but it’s certainly visible enough that anyone else would be able to realize it’s magical and seriously important.

But the dragon pays no attention. It rears all the way back, clearly getting ready for another fight.

Great. My past self said that there was a chance that it would recognize me as a Pendragon and it would choose not to fight. But I’m not going to be that lucky, am I?

I don’t come to a stop right in front of the dragon. I’m not that stupid.

I glance around the room. There’s no indication of my soul sword. And crazily, I haven’t bothered to try to draw it out yet.

Now I do. I settle a hand on my chest. At first, for a microsecond, I can’t feel anything, but then I freak out at the possibility that sword was stolen and all this is for naught. Then as my fingers slip past some kind of magical buildup right in my chest, I finally detect it. I waste no more time, and I pull it out. Once more, it feels as if it’s dragging over something, as if my insides aren’t flesh after all, and they’re more like stone and steel.

The dragon does not attack until I have my weapon in my hand. Maybe it’s a noble beast after all. But now I’m armed, it comes right at me.

Nothing has changed since our last fight, except that I now have a ring from Arthur and I have a bucket load more determination. But the point is, I’m not stronger. I’m weaker. But you tell that to my skills. I fight… I fight with a majesty I’ve never had before. It’s the attitude of someone who knows that they can lose – it’s definitely on the cards – but the difference between them winning and them crashing down in defeat is not their enemy. It’s how successfully they channel their own forces and how they bring together every single one of their strengths to cover their weaknesses.

As I fight that dragon, I fight my own history, too. I fight every time I wanted to give up. I fight all the indecision and confusion. I even fight my father and the fears he left in me when he died.

I fight everything that holds me back, and as the dragon sends a bolt of magic my way, I successfully block it.

The fire blasts out in every single direction, but not a single flame licks toward my already very burnt body.

The dragon stops and rears back again. It flaps its wings. I do not move a centimeter. I don’t need to push my sword into the floor to hold me on the spot. I just concentrate. It’s harder to connect to this area of the school, because as I already said, it’s just magic. But I can still anchor myself to the flowing pathways of force.

You are stronger. Despite the fact you should be weaker, you have come back with more force. Interesting. The dragon doesn’t add anything. It goes in for another attack. And this one is nasty. It starts whipping its tail around. But halfway through the air, the tail suddenly bursts into flames.

This is probably where I need to duck and roll around, but once more, I don’t. I just plant my feet harder into the floor. I twist the sword to the side at the last moment. I actually manage to cut the tail along the tip.

The dragon screams, proving that while its body is magic, it still hurts to be cut by a sword.

I continue to stand my ground, even as the dragon breathes fire onto me once more.

I don’t know how I’m doing it, but I stop every single spurt of fire from catching hold of my fragile skin.

The dragon rears back. You have become more impressive. However, you will not win. You are not destined to.

I’ve ignored most of what it’s said so far. I can’t ignore this. My lips crack around that word like I’m trying to dig a grave for it, Destiny? And what exactly is destiny?

Fate. It is the path that has been carved out for one before they are born, and it is the path that they will walk until they die.

No such thing exists. It is not real. Destiny isn’t created by the world you live in – it’s created by the people who try to control you. You’re confusing the machinations of people for fate. The only destiny I have has been created for me by Arthur Senior. And it is one I will cut away.

You do not understand reality, even if you have become a more powerful Grail since our last fight. That is a dangerous equation. For magic must be fundamentally rooted in reality – and a practitioner who does not understand what is truly there is a practitioner who will be swallowed by the fantasies of their confused soul.

Arthur Senior’s ambitions aren’t fundamentally rooted in reality; they aren’t a necessary part of existence. They are parasites of his twisted psyche – a virus let out to ravish the magical community. And it’s one that I’m going to destroy, I promise.

Until now, I’ve stood my ground. With a blast of force, I shove forward. The dragon is obviously waiting for my attack, and it tries to slash me with its tail once more, but I roll. I push up underneath it. Then I shove the sword up. It’s not even glittering with that much magic. There’s force, but it isn’t a fantastic display of sheer strength.

That doesn’t matter. As soon as the blade slices across the dragon’s tail, it screams. I see blood. But only for a few short seconds. It quickly turns into sparks that wither up and die in the air.

The dragon jerks back. This time, it does not twist its enormous head to the side and blast magical fire breath all over the room. It shrinks back toward the door. I see something in its eyes. I almost tell myself it’s the same fear I saw in Arthur Senior’s eyes, but the dragon is a thousand times more innocent than that bastard.

I take another step toward it. I’m getting through that door, one way or another. But I don’t want to have to get through you to do that. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve just been indentured to watch this door for eternity. If you let me through, I will let you go.

I am bound to the Pendragons, it says regally, even as its voice shakes with pain.

If you’re bound to the Pendragons, then that means that you’re bound to Arthur too. My voice can’t stay even on his name. Nothing about me can whenever I speak of him. I know that he’s still up there, struggling in that throne. He might not be able to die now that I’ve got his ring, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t want Arthur to have to put up with any more of this. If I could close his eyes and put him to sleep until I’m done with his father, I would.

Yes, I am loyal to Arthur Junior, the dragon answers.

Then why are you letting his father do whatever he wants with him? You’re doing nothing more than helping Arthur Senior’s machinations. You do not serve Arthur; you serve his father alone.

That is incorrect. I serve every Pendragon.

When one person is more powerful than everyone else and when they have their hearts set on manipulating all, they stand above the rest. Do not fool yourself into thinking you serve all the Pendragons. You help Arthur Senior further his plans at global domination, and that’s it. I can’t believe I’m saying that. It sounds crazy. Global domination? Has my life descended into some kind of B-grade action film?

It might sound overly melodramatic, but it’s true. Maybe Arthur Senior won’t technically control the entire world, but he certainly will have complete control of the magical community, and both realms are interconnected.

We serve Arthur Pendragon, the dragon says, no longer talking of itself in the singular, as if it can spread its guilt out with a mere change of pronouns.

I close my eyes. That’s right – I actually close my eyes right in front of a murderous dragon who serves my number one nemesis. And so do I. Just not in the way you do. I’ve found another path.

With that, I shove forward. I’ve given this dragon a chance. That’s enough to soothe my conscience. Now it’s time to get through.

I know that Arthur Senior has been called. Who knows what’s happening to the rest of the school? I have an obligation to get out there and save everyone.

But just as I head toward the dragon, my sword powering with magic, it makes a choking noise.

It’s a pretty weird sound to hear coming from a dragon’s throat – it sounds more like a polite butler who’s made a terrible mistake with an honored guest. I open my eyes. It’s not trying to distract me. It doesn’t suddenly breathe fire right into my face. But I see its massive glittering eyes locking on my ring.

I honestly thought that it had spied it earlier, but clearly it hadn’t. How? it bellows.

You mean this? I don’t lift my hand off the sword. I grip it harder, and I send its light spilling out until my ring is illuminated, the faint trace of it suddenly becoming stronger. I found this on my past-self’s finger.

You communed with your past? How?

I wouldn’t think that a dragon could act awe-struck, but this one does. It’s not the same as being stared at by the students at school. But I cannot mistake the emotion.

There is a castle in my mind. Within, my past-self is buried. I found this on her. I took it. I’m now bonded to Arthur, aren’t I?

It is a bond that runs deep. One that cannot be broken for lifetimes. You have renewed it.

My lips twitch. What… what exactly does that mean? That in accepting this ring, I agreed to be bound to the Pendragons for more lifetimes?

That’s the opposite of what I want.

When I almost gave up in prison, I wanted to be free of all of this. My greatest wish was to be born as someone normal, far away from the Pendragon curse. But I remember my past-self’s warning. To pick up this ring and to wear it was to accept Arthur’s burden.

I’ve done that now, and there’s no going back.

I close my eyes. When I open them again, I nod. The dragon has still not attacked.

I know what I’ve done. I did it willingly. Now, you have one last chance to—

I am endlessly surprised when the dragon actually picks up its massive body and shifts to the side of the door.

… Seriously?

I could have avoided that fight had I just walked up to it and pointed to the ring?

The look in its eyes… I can’t quite place it. Fair enough, because I’ve never had that much experience trying to differentiate dragon gazes before. But….

You are now a Pendragon. It kneels down low and nods at me.

So… you’re going to let me through the door?

I will do as I would do for all Pendragons. I will assist you.

I frown. I think of that serpent that now defends the Grail room. It’s become one of my best friends, not that we’ve ever actually shared any words. Not my point. It’s something I can rely on completely. Don’t tell me… don’t tell me that I can now rely on this dragon completely, too? Because that would be a game-changer.

I have never fought anything like it. It is way more powerful than Arthur Senior. It is exactly the kind of formidable force that I need right now.

Who do you serve more? Me, or your master, Arthur Senior?

I am instructed to serve the most powerful of the Pendragons.

I pale a little. And who’s that? I honestly expect it to say me, but it doesn’t.

It is currently Arthur Senior.

I push a sigh through my teeth. In front of me, the door to the Pendragon crypt opens. I should really be paying more attention to it. This holy light is now pushing through into the hallway.

I stare at the dragon morosely. I don’t want to give up the opportunity for a formidable fighting partner.

The dragon isn’t done yet. The most powerful Pendragon is currently Arthur Senior, but when you go within the crypt and you pluck the sword of stone up, it will be you.

Chapter 2

The dragon’s words wash over me. At first, I don’t really comprehend them. Then I can no longer ignore the light coming in through the open crypt door.

I have to bring up a hand and hide behind it. The light rivals my soul sword’s holy glow.

I don’t talk to the dragon anymore. I can’t. I’m drawing within.

That light… it kind of reminds me of Arthur. My heart pounds harder as I walk into it.

It blasts all around me. It’s energy; it’s life; it’s everything. My hair flutters. It takes a few seconds until everything settles down. I slowly drop my arm. I face the room.

You would think that it would be a lot more impressive based on how hard it was to get here and the power of its ethereal glow. But what it is is about 10 sarcophaguses all arranged in a circle.

In the middle, there’s a sword buried down to its hilt in the floor.

That would be the sword of the stone. Wait, that’s not the saying. It’s the sword in the stone, right? But that’s not what my past self said. I never bothered to correct her. Can past selves misspeak?

Or is there something different about this legend?

The dragon doesn’t follow me in. It honestly wouldn’t have room. For a mega-important crypt, this is pretty tiny. Maybe they had to do it on a budget?

I don’t laugh at that joke. I walk toward the sword. I don’t immediately get down on one knee. In fact, I stare down at it for a long time. It violates my rule of doing this quickly so I can get back to Arthur. But… this is a fundamental experience. This right here proves what my past self already told me and what I have already found out myself. This lifetime… it’s different. I have a chance now I will never have again.

I finally settle my own sword over my shoulder and let it disappear back into me. I push a breath between my teeth. I close my eyes. I reach forward. Just as soon as my hand collapses around the hilt of that sword, I see things. Dreams open in front of me like the unfolding pages of a book. I don’t know if these are my dreams – if I somehow have had a hidden dreamworld all this time without realizing it – or if they are the dreams of the sword.

I see myself with Arthur. Maybe we’re in the past. Maybe we’re somehow in the future. The actual context of the memories doesn’t count. It is the feeling of them alone that matters.

There’s this endless sense of history behind and in front of us. And it is a sense that is held in my hands as my fingers tighten around the hilt of that sword. I feel it grinding up out of the stone, but it’s only moved a few mere centimeters.

Those images and memories continue to break around me. They get faster.

At first, they’re pleasant, deeply personal recollections. But they change. They twist, becoming more violent and terrifying.

I see myself cut down, time and time again as my powers are used to draw the final sword from Arthur. And I see his mind broken down, time and time again.

There are so many things about how this terrible fate works that I’ve never understood. Now I see them. In the past, whenever I helped Arthur draw the final sword and his mind shattered, he would come to rest on