"Escaping," he chokes out. "The eastern tunnels...to the Ashlands."
I consider him for a long moment, this naga who betrayed everything our kind stands for. Then I release him, letting him crumple to the floor.
"Go," I say coldly. "Tell Thorne what awaits him when I find him."
He scrambles away, leaving a trail of shed scales in his wake. I turn back to survey the carnage I have wrought. Balek and Jevak lie motionless, their scales reduced to ash where my flame touched them. Hessith is a blackened husk, barely recognizable as the merchant who once bowed so respectfully in my presence. The other two are similarly dispatched, bodies twisted in final agony.
My Talons stare at me with mingled awe and fear, their postures unconsciously submissive. They have never witnessed the full extent of elemental power unleashed without restraint. None living have, not since the days before the Sundering drove us underground.
I let my flame recede slightly, not extinguished but banked to a more controlled burn. "We continue east," I command, voice steadier than I feel. "To the Ashlands."
The eastern tunnels narrow, branching into a maze of ancient pathways that should have remained collapsed. I pause at each fork, eyes closed, letting the crimson thread of our bond guide me. Left here. Right there. Straight ahead whenothers would turn back. My Talons follow silently, weapons ready, trusting my certainty though none can see what I feel. That golden pull toward Leira growing stronger with each correct choice. Not her safety I sense, not calm, but the fierce, unmistakable pulse of her life.
The tunnel abruptly narrows, ceiling dropping so low that even I must duck my head. Then the passage ahead terminates in a wall of fresh rubble, rocks and dirt piled floor to ceiling in a chaotic mass. Not an illusion this time. The dust still hangs in the air, and the scent of crushed stone fills my lungs.
"A collapse," Dreth says behind me, disappointment heavy in his voice.
I press my palm against the fallen stone, seeking any hint of falsehood, but my hand meets only solid resistance. This barrier is real. Through our bond, I feel Leira's presence, tantalizingly close yet separated by tons of impenetrable mountain.
Chapter Twenty-Six
VAROK
"Go back," I command, tail lashing with renewed frustration. "We find another way."
We retreat to the last junction, taking the left fork this time. The new passage curves sharply upward, forcing us to climb rather than glide. The bond tugs more insistently with each body length gained, Leira's presence growing clearer, more defined through our connection. Now I sense not just her existence but fragments of emotion—exhaustion, fear, determination.
"She is close," I murmur, more to myself than my warriors. "Very close."
The tunnel opens into a chamber with three branching corridors. I pause, testing the bond, letting it guide me. The pull draws me toward the rightmost passage.
We have traveled perhaps fifty lengths when I catch her exotic scent. Human sweat and fear, mingled with dust and blood. Not just her scent, but Zara's as well, that distinctive sweetness that marks all younglings.
"Here," I hiss, surging forward with renewed purpose.
The tunnel bends sharply right then opens into a small side chamber. And there they are.
For a single, perfect moment, time stops.
Nirik lies slumped against the wall, scales slick with fresh blood. Leira kneels at his right, tearing strips from her already tattered tunic to hand to Zara, coiled opposite, her tiny clawed hands pressing the material against his scales to stanch the flow of blood.
At our entrance, Leira springs to her feet, a perfect sphere of flame materializing in her palm, casting fierce shadows across her dust-streaked face. Her eyes, though ringed with exhaustion, blaze with the unmistakable promise of violence should we threaten those under her protection.
Recognition hits her. Relief crashes across her face, followed instantly by something deeper, more complex.
Three undulations close the distance between us, and she meets me halfway, throwing herself against my chest with such force that we nearly topple backward.
My arms encircle her, crushing her to me with a desperation I cannot temper. Her body trembles against mine, her face buried in the curve of my throat. Through our bond, emotions flood across the divide. Her relief, her lingering fear, her bone-deep exhaustion.
"I thought—" she begins, voice cracking.
"I know," I cut in, clawed fingers threading through her tangled hair. "I am sorry. I should have told you everything. About the OathCoil, about the danger. I thought I was protecting you, but instead?—"
"No, I shouldn't have run," she interrupts overtop of me, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears that catch the light of my flame. "I should have let you explain. If I'd stayed?—"
I press my forehead against hers. "It does not matter now," I murmur. "You are safe. That is all that matters."
For a breath, we exist in our own world, everything else falling away. Then reality reasserts itself as Zara's small voice breaks through.
