I do something insane.
I see one of the drakes circling, preparing for another pass. Instead of dodging, I stand my ground. I meet its cruel blue eyes and somehow push with a command so fierce it’s unignorable. An image. *Up. The spire. Take me.*
The creature falters, its predatory instincts warring with my intrusion. It swoops low, claws extended to grasp. I leap, my hands catching its freezing legs, the rough surface tearing at my palms. Its wings beat with furious power, lifting me from the parapet, the wind whipping my hair across my face.
I soar upward, a sudden, breathtaking ascent. Below me, Zeriel and Blaise are locked in a battle for the scepter. I see Zeriel slam his palm against the rock face beside Blaise’s handhold. The stone loses its integrity, turning to sand under Blaise’s fingers. A subtle, brilliant use of his lithborn blood. Blaise snarls, his grip failing, and Zeriel surges past him, grabbing the iron scepter from its chain.
He looks up, his eyes widening in disbelief as he sees me cresting the top of the spire, carried by his would-be killer.
Drop me,I command the drake.
It complies, releasing its grip. I hit the altar platform hard, rolling to absorb the impact, my body screaming in protest. But I’m here. Before them.
Zeriel is climbing now with a desperate, terrifying speed, the Scepter of Judgment clenched in one hand. He’s almost here. His fingers are inches from the ledge.
But I lunge for the shard.
My fingers close around the black crystal.
It’s not cold but warm, alive. For a heartbeat, nothing happens.
Then a bolt of pure, searing energy rips through me, flaring from the point on my forehead where Selen touched me andsurging outward in a tide of agony and ecstasy so profound it tears a scream from my throat. The world dissolves into white light. My blood feels like it’s boiling and freezing all at once, every dormant, forgotten piece of my heritage igniting in a single, explosive instant.
The spire groans, and cracks of brilliant, lilac light shoot down its length. The energy pouring from the shard, fromme, is a physical force, blasting outward in a shockwave that shakes Zeriel’s grip on the wall. It punches upward, through the clouds, a beacon visible for miles, a defiant star in the face of the empire.
And in the heart of the blinding light, words burn themselves into the sky, into the very fabric of the world for all to see:
THE SILENT WAR HAS BEGUN.
The roar of the crowd falters, replaced by a collective gasp of shock and awe. Below, on the parapet, the champions stare upward, stunned. Zeriel’s face is a mask of shock, even Blaise’s. Overhead, the emperor’s dragons thrash and keen, wings beating the air in sudden unrest.
The crystal in my hand is a heart beating in time with mine, pouring raw, untamed power through my veins. And the light isn’t just around me; itisme, like a silent scream given form.
Then the energy shifts. The column of light wavers, and a force like a river in flood grabs hold of me, pulling sideways. My feet slip from the altar. Panic claws at my throat. This isn't my power to command; it's a wild thing, and it has taken me with it.
“VEYRA.” Zeriel’s voice is a raw tear in the fabric of the light.
He lunges for me. His hand clamps around my arm, a feral anchor against the storm. But the light has no weight, no substance to fight. It simply pulls him in too. The world dissolves into a shriek of white, a torrent of energy so immense it scours thought and feeling from my mind. I feel the bond between us flare, a supernova of his shock and raw will, and then it’s all consumed.
The universe snaps shut.
Darkness.
Silence.
Chapter 50
Waking is like surfacing from a deep, black ocean. My first sensation is cold, a damp, chill air filling my lungs. My head throbs in a low, miserable rhythm, and every muscle aches with a profound, bone-deep weariness. I try to move, and a groan escapes my lips, the sound swallowed by a vast, echoing quiet.
I push myself onto my elbows. The surface beneath me is rough fabric, some kind of rug. The air smells of wet earth, moss, and something ancient, like dust that hasn’t been disturbed in a thousand years. There is no light. Not the eerie glow of the forest, not the flickering of a torch, not even a sliver of starlight. The darkness is absolute, a physical presence that presses against my eyelids.
And I’m no longer holding the crystal shard… though my body still hums with a quiet energy that doesn’t feel like mine.
“Zeriel?” My voice is a dry rasp, small and fragile in the immense quiet.
No answer.
Panic, cold and sharp, begins to prickle at the edges of my numbness. I reach for the bond between us, the tether Selen forged. It’s there… close.
