“Where is he?”
“Faster,” she whispered, her voice nearly lost in the howl of the storm. “Nyxariel, find him.” Thaelyn was overcome with desperation. “Is he alive? Can you feel him? I can’t. Please tell me you can feel him through your bond with Vornokh.”
“He still breathes, little flame,”came the dragon’s voice, deep and steady despite the chaos. “But not for long if we do not reach him.”
Lightning arced around them, but it was not her doing. The sky itself seemed angry, as if Aether mourned too. As if the storm felt what she felt, this sickening, stinging ache beneath her sternum. Her pulse was a wildfire, too fast, too bright, and every breath was a struggle.
Her hands trembled as they gripped Nyxariel’s saddle. She felt it, the bond weakening. Not the familiar hum of connection she hadalways sensed through Nyxariel, nor the steady warmth of her Aether link, but the hollow absence of Thorne.
He was flickering. Fading. “No, no, no! ”
Below, the battlefield churned. Sigils gleamed like dying stars, soldiers clashing, shadows peeling away from the ground to strike with talons of dark intent. Her eyes scanned it all, frantic, desperate. Her heart thundered loud enough to drown out her thoughts.
Then, she saw him. Vornokh had landed near the shattered Watchtower, wings splayed protectively, tail coiled around a crumbled stone dais. And at its base was Thorne.
He was on his knees, one hand braced on the ground, blood glistening in his hair, at his chest, and in the corner of his mouth. His sword lay shattered at his side. Kaen stood over him, cloaked in pulsing red and black fire, mouth curled into something cruel.
“No,” she breathed. Then they dove. Nyxariel plunged, wings tucked, a streak of silver lightning descending from the heavens. The wind screamed as the earth surged up to meet them. The sky raged against her descent.
A bolt of enemy fire clipped Nyxariel’s wing. Thaelyn jerked sideways, nearly losing her grip. A searing wall of flame erupted below, she shouted, urging Nyxariel to veer left. The battlefield was alive beneath them, chaos and magic swirling like a storm-swept sea.
A volley of arrows arced up toward them. Nyxariel spun, banking hard, tail whipping through smoke. Shouts and roars echoed from every corner. Lightning cracked past them, too close. Heat licked at Thaelyn’s cheeks. Her braid came loose in the wind. She could see soldiers falling, shadows writhing, and blades clashing in a symphony of destruction.
“THORNE!” she screamed, her voice raw.
A blast of dark magic hurled upward. Nyxariel roared and tucked her wings tight, spiraling beneath it. Stones burst apart midair, pelting them with shards. Thaelyn flung an Aether shield forward. Aether shimmered as it blocked the worst of the impact.
Below, Kaen raised his head. He saw her coming and smiled. She didn’t care. She would break through the Veil itself if it meant reaching him. She landed in fury. She hit the earth like a storm.Nyxariel roared, tearing into Kaen with teeth and talons, forcing him back. But Thaelyn didn’t see it, didn’t hear it. All she saw was him. Thorne, on the ground, his head bowed, his body bloodied.
She ran to him, Aether burning her fingertips raw as it surged uncontrollably. Her magic flared in a halo of silver-blue, screaming her grief into the air. “You will not take him from me!”
Nyxariel’s roar shook the skies. Thaelyn summoned Aether in a blazing arc. She hurled it toward Kaen, who deflected it with a flick of his wrist. The blast shattered against a crimson shield.
She reached deeper for her power and struck Kaen with all she had, but it was not enough to bring back what was fading. Then, the magic left her. The rage, the fear, it all slipped through her fingers like water. Her knees buckled, and she dropped beside Thorne. She touched his cheek.
“Thorne,” she whispered, but his eyes were shut. “Don’t leave me.”
She felt it, his heartbeat slowing, the last threads of their bond unraveling.
“No,” she sobbed, her voice cracking. “Please. We just found each other.”
Her scream tore from her chest. Aether flared, but it was hollow now, a dying star, and then, silence.
“You’re too late, little flame,” Kaen sneered. “He screamed for you, you know. Just before I tore him apart, he begged me not to hurt you. I told him not to worry that I was going to make you mine. You would be my wife and bear our children. We would rule the entire realm, including Aeromir.”
Thaelyn reached for her power deeper than she ever had before. It burned her from the inside out. She wielded a burst toward Kaen. Their powers collided: Aether and dark magic, light and void. Magic scorched the field around them as their bodies became blurs of movement, flame, and force. Thaelyn screamed her rage, slicing through darkness with blades made of starlight.
Kaen laughed through the chaos. “You always had spirit, but spirit alone cannot stop destiny.”
“You don’t know destiny,” she spat. “Only destruction.”
He caught her with a backhand of pure darkfire, sending her flying across the field. He was so powerful. She rolled hard, gasping as pain split her side. Blood coated her, spilling from her nose and lips. Still, she rose again, trembling, half-dead, but defiant. She flew towards him and raised her hands, called her magic again, and he drove his blade of corrupted black energy into her chest.
Her scream was soft. Like a breath. Like the last note of a lullaby. Her body crumpled. The bond shattered. She was gone.
Chapter
Seventy
