Lykor bared his fangs, molten rage erupting as he thrashed against the shadowy bindings. He was going to rip every bone from this elven bitch’s hand, grind them to dust, and shove the ashes down her throat until she choked. But he wouldn’t stop there. He’d tunnel up her arms, string her up by the tendons and—
Her hands slid lower, toward the waistband of his trousers. Lykor’s heart nearly punched free from his ribs.
It wasn’t the pathetic attempt at provocation that froze him—it was what she might uncover.
Her fingers brushed over the concealed object he’d so witlessly carried here. Moments stretched. Lykor’s chest compressed, lungs straining as if the air had turned to stone.
The female cocked her head, crimson hair spilling over her shoulder like a curtain of blood. She rooted around in his pocket, drawing out the Heart of Stars.
Lykor’s breath stalled, vision splintering as the halo around the relic ignited with color, the hues of her talents shining brightly. The light seared into his eyes, blinding him with the sting of his failures.
He should have left the artifact with Mara, given it to the prince, buried it in the jungle. Should’ve thrown it into the fucking sea.Anythingbut this.
The female’s eyes gleamed with curiosity as she tilted the prism in her palm. “Nowthisis unexpected.”
Lykor’s thoughts fractured, spiraling under the calamity he’d wrought. Galaeryn’s face flashed in his mind—those malicious silver eyes gleaming as the Heart fell back into his grasp.
A key to the chained dragons.
But the relic was only the beginning—the worst was yet to come.
Lykor would be dragged back to the dungeons. The king would rip into his mind, tearing out every secret he’d fought to protect.
He could already feel it—coercion slicing through his thoughts, pulverizing any resistance. The elves would find the wraith hiding in the jungle. The world would fall, his fleeting dream of freedom lost to shadows.
Lykor’s breaths came too fast, too shallow. The weight of his folly crushed down, suffocating him, each gasp sharper than the last.
His hearing muted to a distant hum as the female turned away, already losing interest in him. She slipped the Heart of Stars into her cloak. Claiming it as her own.
“And why in the stars areyouhere?” the elf demanded, turning her attention toward Jassyn.
She twisted her wrist and the rending coiled tighter, yanking him to his feet. Jassyn rapidly blinked as he came back to himself, finally rousing from the depths of his mind. A subtle flash fossilized his amber eyes into dark defiance.
An unnatural wind stirred through Jassyn’s curls. The female, blinded by her own arrogance, missed it entirely.
But Lykor didn’t. A wicked shiver of anticipation skipped his pulse as he watched the exchange, hobbling his breath to see what chaos Jassyn would summon.
The female dismissively waved away Jassyn’s stony silence—his detached and hollow look. “No matter,” she said with a pointed sniff, reaching out to grab at Jassyn in the same way. “My sire will be pleased to have you—”
Her shriek split the air. One moment, the red-haired female was standing there smirking. The next, she was stumbling back, arms and shadows flying up in a frantic attempt to ward offlashing vines. Roots ripped free from the walls as the plants came alive, whipping toward her in a ravenous frenzy and wrapping around her limbs.
Moss and lichen anchored to the stone pulsed with an ethereal glow before withering as Jassyn siphoned their life force. Like stardust swept by a phantom gale, luminescence bled from the plants, shimmering flecks streaming through the air.
Lykor’s breath hitched as the glowing spores shot toward the surrounding elves. In a heartbeat, they detonated, splattering across faces, blooming with sickening speed. Mushrooms erupted from eyes, burrowing deep into sockets before bursting into grotesque clusters of fungal growth.
The rending around Lykor and Jassyn disintegrated. The leader screamed, clawing at her face as she fled through the portal.
With a snarl, Lykor yanked Aesar’s glaives from their sheathes, steel hissing as he resorted to fighting with metal.
He didn’t need to bother.
Lykor’s eyes widened, his grip on the weapons slackening. An uneasy awe tangled between his ribs, his brain fumbling to process the scene.
Jassyn was already a storm unleashed, raining destruction, veins in his arms glowing green with otherworldly light. Teeth bared, he whipped golden blades from his leathers, his movements wild and savage. The daggers streaked too fast for Lykor to track, gold flashing as elves crumpled beneath their bite.
But that wasn’t what made him stare.
It was the fucking plants.
