Vaelrik found himself watching her with an intensity that had nothing to do with tactical assessment. The way she moved spoke of hard-won competence and adaptability forged in crisis. She didn’t flinch from the shadows pressing against her light. Didn’t hesitate despite being thrown into a situation she’d never asked for.
His shadowfire responded to her sigils like a starving thing recognizing sustenance, the curse settling into something approaching calm as her magic created structure in the chaos around them. The connection threaded through the binding sigil, warm and steady and terrifyingly right.
He hated how natural it felt. Hated how his body relaxed in ways he couldn’t control when she was near.
But as shadow-figures began to press closer to her position—humanoid shapes that moved like liquid nightmares, reachingfor her light with hunger that transcended mere corruption—his instincts snapped like a breaking chain.
The shift took him without conscious thought. One moment he was standing in human form, watching her work. The next, obsidian wings were tearing through the air in a burst of sound like controlled thunder, his body expanding into the massive form that had earned him the title Shadow Scourge.
Violet-edged shadowfire erupted along his spine as the transformation completed, each scale burning with cold flame that made the ground beneath him tremble. In this form, corruption tasted like metal and grief on his tongue. Serenya’s sigils registered as warm pressure against his scales—not painful, but anchoring. Like finding solid ground in a storm.
His roar shook the marsh, echoing off broken buildings and twisted trees until even the fog seemed to recoil in terror. The shadowfire erupted from his mouth in controlled torrents, each blast precise as a surgeon’s blade. The first wave of shadow-creatures collapsed into smoldering ash before they could reach Serenya’s position, their corrupted forms dissolving like nightmares exposed to dawn. But what struck him wasn’t the familiar satisfaction of battle—it was the way her lumen sigils responded.
Through her command, her lumen magic carved geometric pathways through the air toward him. Clean light sliced channels that guided his fire with surgical precision, blocking flanking attacks he hadn’t even registered as threats yet. The connection flowed through their binding sigil like shared breath—her light anticipating his strikes, his shadowfire following her lead as if they’d fought together for decades.
Too natural.
The thought clawed through his mind as he banked left, his wings cutting through fog thick as syrup. Three survivors stumbled from the ruins of a collapsed farmhouse, terror brightin their faces as shadow-things reached for them with elongated limbs. Before conscious thought could intervene, Vaelrik arced a wall of violet-edged flame between the civilians and their pursuers. Protecting them. Protectingher.
Serenya’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp with authority. “Get behind the sigil line! Now!”
Her lumen magic flared brighter, carving protective barriers that herded the fleeing humans toward safety. Each rune she etched pulsed with fierce determination, and Vaelrik felt that determination thread through the binding sigil like molten gold in his veins.
The symmetry of their combined power was undeniable. His darkness carved space; her light structured it. His fire cleared paths; her sigils held them open. They moved like dancers who’d rehearsed this choreography in dreams—anticipating, responding, and complementing without conscious thought.
Destiny.The word tasted like poison and promise in equal measure.
He didn’t trust destiny. Didn’t trust anything that felt this perfect when his life had been forged from broken pieces and Council commands. But as another wave of shadow-creatures surged from the marsh’s depths—larger now, more coordinated—he couldn’t deny the brutal efficiency of fighting beside her.
“More coming from the east!” Kyr’s voice reached him through the din, strained with effort as he carved through corrupted forms with storm-edged steel.
Vaelrik wheeled toward the new threat, shadowfire building in his throat like caged lightning. The creatures moved differently this time—organized and purposeful. Testing their defenses with intelligence that made his curse writhe with awareness.
Something’s commanding them.
The realization struck him as Serenya’s next sigil blazed to life, its light threading through his consciousness with a warmth that felt dangerously like belonging.
FIVE
SERENYA
Serenya’s lumen sigils carved pathways through the chaos, each rune blazing white-gold as her magic responded to Vaelrik’s shadowfire with an intimacy that should have been impossible. Light and darkness moved in perfect synchronization—his violet-edged flames following the channels she etched through the air, her magic redirecting his power with lethal accuracy.
The synergy felt undeniablyright. Like breathing. Like coming home.
No.She crushed the thought before it could take root. Witches and dragons weren’t compatible. The Ashen Realms had been built on that fundamental truth. Dragons rule and witches comply.
But watching Vaelrik’s massive obsidian form bank through the fog, his shadowfire obeying the geometric patterns of her sigils as if they shared the same heartbeat, she couldn’t deny the brutal efficiency of their combined power. Her magic had never felt this controlled, this purposeful. Every rune she carved amplified his strikes while her barriers protected civilians fleeing toward Kyr’s position.
Suddenly, a small shadow broke away from the dark fog creeping through the marsh—shaped like a child, humming a hollow lullaby that made her blood freeze in recognition.
Rock-a-bye, shadow-bye, when the light breaks...
The melody drifted through the air with wrongness that crawled under her skin. She’d read the survivor accounts from other settlements. Children twisted into shadow-creatures, their voices turned into weapons designed to paralyze prey with grief and horror.
Vaelrik’s massive dragon form suddenly stilled mid-flight, his wings catching air as if the song had wrapped chains around his consciousness. The shadowfire along his spine flickered, losing focus.
“Vaelrik!” The word tore from her throat, sharp with alarm.
