Chapter 27: Ready For A Road Trip

The gray light of dawn crept through the windows as Kane double-checked their supplies.

He’d packed everything into Cyrus’s rugged Mercedes G Wagon.

"Water, first aid kit, snacks..." Kane muttered, ticking items off his mental checklist.

He adjusted the backpack containing his Bureau-issued equipment, making sure his gun was accessible.

Cyrus emerged from the penthouse, carrying a leather case.

"Ready?" Cyrus asked, loading the case into the trunk.

Kane nodded, glancing at the array of provisions. "What’s in there?"

"Insurance," Cyrus replied cryptically as he slid behind the wheel.

"It will take three hours to reach the temple." Try not to talk the whole way."

Kane grinned, unwrapping a protein bar. "No promises."

The city of Feilun faded behind them as Cyrus navigated through thinning traffic.

Skyscrapers gave way to suburbs, then to rolling countryside dotted with small farms and patches of forest.

Kane cycled through radio stations, pausing at each for barely five seconds before moving on.

He settled on a pop station, cranking the volume until Cyrus reached over and dialed it back with a pointed glare.

"What? Road trips need soundtracks," Kane said, tearing open a bag of chips.

The sharp crinkle of plastic filled the car as he dug in, leaving a light dusting of cheese powder on his fingers.

Cyrus kept his eyes fixed on the road, his jaw tight.

"Want one?" Kane held out the bag.

"No."

Kane shrugged and continued eating, watching as the landscape grew wilder.

The highway narrowed to a two-lane road that curved through increasingly dense forest.

"How much longer?" Kane asked, brushing crumbs from his shirt. "My tail’s falling asleep."

"Two hours," Cyrus replied. "Perhaps less if you stop fidgeting with everything in my vehicle."

Kane drummed his fingers on the dashboard, stealing glances at Cyrus’s stoic profile.

The dragon hadn’t spoken in twenty minutes, and the silence was making Kane’s skin itch.

"So... ever play ’I Spy’?" Kane asked, stretching his arms overhead until his knuckles brushed the roof.

Cyrus’s expression didn’t change. "No."

"Twenty Questions?"

"No."

Kane sighed dramatically. "You must have been fun on long dragon migrations."

That earned him a sideways glance.

"We didn’t migrate. We dominated territories and stayed put," Cyrus said, his voice low.

"Unlike certain nomadic fox clans."

"Touché." Kane twisted in his seat to face Cyrus. "What was it like? Being a dragon prince?"

Cyrus’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. For a moment, Kane thought he wouldn’t answer.

"Isolating," Cyrus finally said. "Even surrounded by my own kind."

Kane was taken aback by Cyrus’ unexpected honesty. He hadn’t expected that answer. Not from someone built like a fortress.

"I get that," Kane replied quietly. "Fox clans aren’t exactly warm and fuzzy either."

Cyrus nodded once, then reached forward and turned up the radio.

The music filled the space between them, a buffer against further confessions.

Kane leaned his head against the window, watching the forest thicken around them.

The trees grew taller and older, their branches creating a canopy that dappled the road with patches of light and shadow.

Kane stared at the passing forest, the question that had been gnawing at him finally surfacing.

"Why are you so eager to get that screaming shard?" he asked, turning to face Cyrus.

"Must be important if you’re willing to hunt down a mythical chalice for it."

Cyrus’s expression remained impassive, but his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel.

"Interesting question from someone who conveniently failed to mention he already possessed a similar artifact," Cyrus countered, his voice cool.

Kane’s ears flattened slightly. "That’s different."

"Oh, really?" Cyrus glanced at him briefly. "Your Bureau secured one piece, and now you’re accompanying me to find the Midnight Chalice, which may lead to more fragments."

"You didn’t answer my question," Kane pressed.

"Neither did you," Cyrus replied. "Perhaps we both have reasons for keeping certain motivations private."

The silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of tires on pavement and the faint melody from the radio.

"We’re approaching the turnoff," Cyrus finally said, effectively closing the conversation.

"The temple lies five miles up this mountain road."

The dirt road narrowed to a rocky path, forcing Cyrus to park at the base of stone steps that disappeared into thick mist.

The Temple of Eternal Moonlight emerged from the fog. Weathered stone walls covered in climbing vines, intricate carvings worn by centuries of rain, and a sloped tile roof with corners that curved toward the sky.

"Wow," Kane breathed, grabbing his backpack. "This is like something out of a video game."

As Kane moved toward the temple, Cyrus caught his arm.

"Wait." Cyrus commanded, moving to the rear of the vehicle.

He unlocked the trunk and opened the leather case he’d brought.

Inside, nestled in velvet lining, lay an arsenal that made Kane’s standard-issue Bureau weapon look like a toy.

The arsenal included a sleek black pistol with runes etched along the barrel, throwing knives with handles wrapped in dark leather, and what appeared to be silver-tipped darts.

Kane whistled, running his fingers over the rune-etched pistol.

"Where’d you get all these? The Bureau’s armory doesn’t have anything half this lovely."

Cyrus lifted a knife, testing its weight.

"You should know better than others that the best weapons are not on the market." He handed Kane the pistol, their fingers briefly touching.

"These were forged by artisans who died centuries ago. The knowledge of their making died with them."

Kane holstered the weapon, feeling its comforting weight against his hip. "Guess dragons always did have the best toys."

"Not toys," Cyrus corrected, closing the case. "Insurance."

The temple steps stretched before them, ancient and worn smooth by centuries of pilgrims.

Kane walked up the first few steps, eager to explore, when Cyrus’s hand clamped firmly on his shoulder.

"Stay close," Cyrus ordered, his voice low and serious.

"These grounds are warded with protections. One wrong step could trigger defenses designed to repel even the most powerful spirits."

"Worried about me?"

"Worried about carrying your unconscious ass back down this mountain," Cyrus said dryly. "Again."

Kane rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at his lips. "One time. I get mortally wounded one time, and you never let me forget it."

"Once was enough." Cyrus’s eyes flashed red momentarily as he scanned the entrance.

"The temple recognizes certain energies. Mine it will tolerate. Yours..." He gave Kane a skeptical glance.

"Let’s not find out."