Nostrils flaring, Serenna’s gaze latched onto the key swaying from the female’s wrist. Taunting, gleaming in the sunlight, its presence a silent mockery.
It had to be for their shackles. There could be no other reason for the leader to display it so brazenly. A trophy, a symbol of dominion—or perhaps proof of her certainty that none of them could ever take it.
Serenna’s nails bit into her palms as she hung helplessly in her chains, anger seething like a rising tide. The prince was dying beside her and freedom was right there, just out of reach.
There wasn’t anything she could do. Her magic was trapped—shewas trapped. There was no fire, no lightning, nothing destructive for her shaman powers to harness. And even if—
Air whispered against her blistered skin. Her breath quickened, heartbeat pummeling her ribs.
Wind.
If she could twist it, forge it into something ruinous… Combined with the grating sand, it could become a distraction.
She’d have to act fast to keep Vesryn alive for it to matter. And Lykor—she needed to unleash his rage to give them a fighting chance. If he could open a portal before the Starshard struck…
A droning hum pressed against Serenna’s skull as her decision solidified. The druids would retaliate. But better that than the slow, gnawing death awaiting them. Better to shatter in the storm of her own making than to be peeled apart under the sun.
“Lykor,” she whispered. “Open your hands.”
Lykor’s head snapped toward her, eyes thinning. The fires of defiance—now searingher—hadn’t been doused. Not yet.
“Trust me, you stars-cursed, stubborn bastard!” Serenna hissed through her teeth. “We’re not dying without a fight. Isn’t that what you want?”
As his gaze darkened with suspicion, Lykor’s lip curled over his fangs. But to her surprise, he listened.
Muttering a curse, he splayed his palms, talons and fingers stretching skyward against the pillar, yielding himself to whatever madness was about to unfold.
Giving him a nod that he didn’t acknowledge, Serenna exhaled slowly, the weight of it carrying her last flicker of hope.She let herself attune to the dry air scalding her lungs and the restless breeze stirring her hair.
Fear expanded in her chest with every tight inhale as the prince’s struggles reached her ears—but she forced it down, focusing on the quiet hum in the earth.
She fell into it.
A thousand whorls ignited behind her eyes, streamers curling and twisting like a riptide carving through the sea. The earth pulsed in rhythm with her heart as her awareness unfurled, dissolving into the world.
She let go. Drifted.
And yanked oneverything.
A gale whipped to life, a turbulent, writhing column lashing in every direction. Too unstable. Too erratic.
Serenna gritted her teeth, steering the currents into a single spiraling path, willing the chaos to obey.
Hands twitching in her shackles, she coaxed the whirlwind into a howling vortex, harvesting sand into its grasp and tearing it upward. Tightening the arc, she honed its force until it was no bigger around than her wrist.
She had to be precise—she couldn’t touch the prince. Each grain became a dagger, a lethal point.
Narrowing her eyes, Serenna aimed the raging currents downward. With one violent thrust, she hurled the cyclone forward—no longer a wild tornado, but a whirling spear of sky and fury.
It drilled through the air, twisting as it struck, driving into the flayers.
The creatures never stood a chance.
The sandstorm ripped through them. Armored shells cracked, shattered, and eroded into nothing as the point of the whirlwind tore through their bodies. Blood splattered the ground as she flung their remains across the pit.
Vesryn went limp, a shudder wracking his frame as he sagged, the manacles on his wrists the only thing holding him upright.
Serenna’s gaze flicked to his legs—a mangled ruin of flesh and bone. Acid scorched the back of her throat before she wrenched her eyes away.
