Below them, the blackened hills of the outer reach gave way to cliffs of white stone. An ancient fortress etched into the mountainside came into view. It was hidden from maps and cloaked in enchantments, but not from the dragons.
Vornokh growled, “I see it.”
“We will burn itto the ground.”
Wards flickered below. They were faint and appeared to be weakening. The dragons did not wait for the other dragons carrying the humans. Vornokh and Nyxariel were already diving down toward the abandoned fortress.
The night air reeked of damp stone and old magic. Thorne was part of the ground rescue crew. He crouched beneath the crumbling archway of a forgotten aqueduct, shadows curling at his shoulders like sentient smoke. Beside him, Sorren and Darian slipped into the shadows without a sound. Not far behind, Garric and Brynnek waited. Their dragons circling high above, behind the cover of clouds, waiting for the signal to be given to strike with dragonfire. The ancient fortress loomed before them, a jagged crown of pale stone fused into the cliff face. It looked dead and abandoned. But every warrior in the squad knew otherwise.
“Two sentries above. Ward glyphs along the perimeter. Old sigil work, but still active,” Sorren whispered, barely audible. “They won’t last long.”
Thorne’s voice was steel wrapped in ice. “We get in. We find her. No mercy. Our only priority is extracting her safely.”
Darian shifted beside him, lips pulled tight. “Are you sure you're steady enough for this? You have to have a clear head and not be wrapped in emotion.”
Thorne didn’t look at him. “I won’t be steady until she’s back. Until I know she’s breathing and safe.”
The others arrived on foot. Garric adjusted the vambrace on his wrist, eyes glowing faintly with suppressed magic. “I’ve got the Aether trail. Whatever they used to mask her, it’s thinner now. Like rot in silk. We can follow it inside.”
Brynnek gave a silent nod and unslung his war axe. “We’re burning time. Let’s move.”
They slipped through the lower gate. Sorren neutralized the wards with eerie precision. The group moved like smoke through stone halls. Thorne’s shadow magic helped with bypassing the guards in silence. They would use violence where necessary, but their main focus and where they planned to use their resources and energy was saved for Thaelyn’s rescue. Vornokh and Nyxarielroared above. Their presence was to create a distraction and draw attention to the outside, forcing most of the enemy outward.
“The distraction the dragons are making is working,” Darian muttered. “I hope they don’t tear the place down before we get her out.”
The rescue crew turned into a corridor and stopped. A heavy iron door barred their path. It appeared to be etched with runes older than any recent dialect. Garric stepped forward, fingers outstretched. “It appears to be warded to her, to Thaelyn. That’s how they sealed her in. Give me a moment and see if I can unbind the warding or find an incantation that will work to release the door.” While Garric worked with the Aether magic given to him through his dragon, Thorne stood stone-still. Every part of him was vibrating with energy. He had not heard or felt her through their bond. Not a word. Thorne lunged forward in agony. He felt the moment that her heartbeat had stopped.
Chapter
Forty-Four
Thaelyn lay on the ground in shackles and was lifeless. No heartbeat. There was a muffled thrum outside her door. Boots sounded and echoed against stone. From somewhere far above came the sound of dragons.The air pressure deepened. The wards around her snapped taut as if bracing. A low, resonant screech echoed down from the heights of the tower. Then another noise followed. It was deeper, ancient, and unmistakable. The tower shook and rattled with a vengeance.
Dust trembled down from the high arches. The ancient stones groaned as if remembering war. Thaelyn lay there limp. The silence that had reigned for days fractured with a single, brutal impact. It was an explosion of power coming from above, followed by the unmistakable screech of a dying being not from this world.
Boots pounded throughout the interior hallways. The door of her holding cell started to splinter. Steel clashed against steel. The runes etched along its arch flared a sickly green color that was pulsing in warning. The wards were reacting, sensing the disruption. Then came a sound that ripped through her lifeless soul. It was a voice screaming with agony. It was guttural, furious, and raw, mixed with something deeper than rage.Thorne.
The magic in the chamber surged. It reacted in confusion from the different forces of magic that were straining its shields. The wards flared red now and became unstable. Another body thumped as it hit the floor outside. Then a hiss of pain was heard. Anotherdragon roared, closer this time. Nyxariel’s fury broke through the sky like a blade of lightning. And beneath it, coming from the ground, a deeper, more guttural growl of Vornokh, no longer merely shadow and fire, but fury incarnate. They were reacting to the stopped heartbeat of one of their riders.
Another explosion rocked the corridor. The runes flashed blinding white. And then, the vicinity boomed and shattered. A burst of shadow slammed into the doorway, rupturing the protective enchantments with a sound like splitting bone. Fire followed. It was brief, controlled, and searing. The stone cracked down the center, and with a final roar, the walls and the metal door exploded inward.
Light and smoke flooded the room. Through the haze stepped Thorne. His cloak torn, blood dripping on his cheek. His sword drawn and wreathed in flickers of flame. His eyes locked on Thaelyn. Darian and Sorren entered behind him. In two long strides, Thorne crossed to her. She was chained to the wall by her hands and feet. She was lifeless; no pulse could be felt. She appeared to be badly beaten, with a broken nose, broken arm, and dislocated shoulders, and was naked. Thorne's arms wrapped around her. Darian ripped off his cloak and handed it to Thorne to cover her nakedness. Sorren worked on getting her free from the shackles. No one dared to speak a word. When Thaelyn’s arms and legs were free from the chains that bound her, Thorne lifted her limp body in his arms and carried her out.
From the corridor, standing watch, Garric’s voice called, “We’ve got movement! Thorne, we need to extract, now!”
Thorne pulled back his head, his gaze already scanning her face, the room, and the residual runes glowing in the cracks of the stone. “She’s really bad. I don’t feel a pulse.” He turned and shouted, “Clear the path!”
Outside, the corridor was chaotic. Darian’s blade caught a guard mid-lunge, blood spraying as Garric threw a wave of ice down the far end, sealing a stairwell shut. Vornokh roared again. He was closer. His rage rattled the tower stones. The dark pulse of his magic made the corridor flicker with violet flame.
“Hold formation!” Commander Dareth barked from above. Hewas leading the aerial mission. “Vaelion, secure the south flank! Drop off the ground reinforcement and then get those dragons in the air again. We need air cover in two minutes!”
Thorne carried Thaelyn in front of him. Her body was still limp and lifeless. “Please don’t die on me. Stay with me,” he ordered, voice hard but low, meant to be heard by her ears alone. As the extraction team reached the end of the corridor, another bolt of shadow and magic ripped through the wall beside them. Sorren, cloaked in darkness, emerged from nowhere to cut down a guard. He nodded once at Thorne. His dragon Mirra was wheeling above the tower.
The team moved fast, passing floor by floor. They passed dead bodies all along the way. Every stair was a battlefield. Every hall was a trap half-sprung. They fought through it all. The moment they emerged into the open courtyard, the dragon storm above split wide. Nyxariel descended like wrath from the heavens, wings spread in full Aether fire. The sky turned violet and silver as she landed on the far wall, screaming in challenge. Vornokh followed, black and blazing, his wings casting a shadow that swallowed the moonlight. Aether boiled through the air.
Thaelyn still had no heartbeat, no breath came from her lungs as the dragonbond flared back to life. Nyxariel’s voice crashed. “Little Storm, hold on.”
Thorne said, voice thick, “We’re getting out, now.”
