He earned a slice to his collarbone.
Sonara cried out as she saw his black blood soar to the sky.
“Come on, Jax!” she growled.“Focus.”
Markam was too busy, preoccupied with taking out the other two, who hefted their broadswords against Markam’s single dagger. He was quick, but he wasn’t as large as them, wasn’t as strong.
“Come on!” Sonara shouted, wishing she could tear herself from her diamond chains, wishing she could run from the wagon and lift her sword and…
She screamed as a guard struck Jaxon in the back.
He stumbled, his face warped in pain even as he sent a bird’s beak flying home into the man’s jugular.
Jaxon fell to a knee, gasping, face twisted in agony. He was burning out. The other guard took the moment to close in on him, had nearly leveled his sword over Jaxon’s neck as the bones around him began to fall from the sky.Markam shouted and tried in vain to get to him, but…
Ablast.
A crackle that shook the very sky.
The hair at the end of Sonara’s braid stood on end as a massive burst of blue light, of sparkling electricity, soared across the sand and blasted a hole in the ground. The guards before the brothers soared backwards like falling stars, smoking and charred and utterly, utterly dead.
Sonara gasped as silence spread across the desert.
She turned, slowly, to look towards the left.
As the smoke cleared, two steeds emerged, like specters stepping into the sunlight.
The first was a pale steed, ridden by a woman who looked to be wearing a mask made of a wolf’s skull.
The second was Duran, Sonara’s loyal steed, who’d died with her and came back to life again, ten years ago. On his back sat a woman adorned in a deep red cloak, black hair hanging to her waist, her palms held open before her.
Sonara had to blink a few times to confirm what she was seeing was true.
For the woman’s skin was smoking and charred. Tendrils of still-glowing blue lightning snaked up her wrists—as if she held the power of a storm within her veins.
It didn’t take long for the desert to clear of prisoners.
One by one, Jaxon, wounded but well, went to the wagons and freed them,Razor’s fire melting the massive lock that bound each wagon’s set of chains.
Sonara waited, eyes closed as she leaned her head back and ignored the watching eyes of her fellow prisoners. Finally,finally,there was the clink of chains, a muted curse, and her wagon door fell to the ground.
Sonara coughed as the dust settled, and the prisoner across from her screamed.
Razor’s massive, dripping maw was just inches away. The wyvern released a heavy breath, the smell of death enough to make plants wilt.
But Sonara only smiled. “You do know how to make an entrance, Razor.” The knots in her chest fell free for the first time in three days as the wyvern growled. “It’s good to see you, too, vile beast.” The caravan driver’s dismembered head was held between Razor’s teeth. Sonara grimaced. “Enjoying a treat?”
Razor chomped down on the skull.
There was plenty of merit to choosing Razor. But Sonara preferred the swift gentle soul of her steed.
She felt for that little burning flame inside of her. It was always there, sometimes hotter than others. The most frightening of times, theloneliestof times, it was merely an ember close to cold. It had been so for these three days.
That little flame was Duran’s soul, and it was tangled up with hers. A bond that could not be broken.
Sonara’s blood was replaced with living shadows, the side effects being her curse and a soul connection with Duran. She wished only the latter had remained.
That soul-ember flared bright, signifying his closeness and safety.
