I close the journal and stare at my hands. Fire flickers between my fingers, controlled now, responding to my will instead of my emotions. My power has grown faster than any of us expected. Faster than Drayke’s fear can account for.
Maybe I’m not like the others. Maybe the rules don’t apply the same way.
Or maybe I’m fooling myself, and the claiming would burn me to ash just like it burned all the Fire-Bringers who came before.
Either way, I deserve to know.
I tuck the hidden journal back into its cloth wrapper and slide it into my pocket. Through the window, the sun is sinking toward the mountains, painting the sky in shades of blood and gold.
The whispers have stopped. The shadows have stilled. Whatever game the rogues were playing, they’ve retreated for now.
But they’ll be back. The deer made that clear enough. They know where I am, what I am, who I belong to. And they’re not going to stop until they have me.
Unless I give them a reason to stop.
I stare at my hands. Fire flickers between my fingers, brighter than it’s ever been. My power is growing—fast. Maybe fast enough.
We’re going to have a conversation when he gets back. A real one. About the claiming. About the risks. About what I’m willing to sacrifice to be with him.
Because I’m not running. I’m not hiding. And I’m sure as hell not letting fear decide my fate.
Not anymore.
TWELVE
DRAYKE
They find me at the eastern ridge, half a mile from the cabin. Close enough to hear Selene scream if she needed me. Far enough that she won’t overhear what my brothers have to say.
Zyphon materializes from the shadows between the pines, violet eyes grave. Rurik drops from the sky in dragon form, shifts mid-landing, his usual grin nowhere to be seen. Auren arrives last, golden hair catching the late afternoon light, expression carved from ice.
“You saw the deer.” Not a question.
“We saw it.” Auren’s voice could freeze fire. “Along with the runes on the trees. The whispers. The shadow scouts circling your territory all day.”
“I’ve been tracking them.” Zyphon’s shadows ripple with barely contained violence. “Six rogues, rotating in pairs. They’re not hiding anymore, Drayke. They want you to know they’re watching.”
“Let them watch.” My dragon snarls beneath my skin. “Let them come. I’ll burn every last one of them.”
“That’s exactly what they want.” Auren steps closer, lowering his voice even though we’re alone. “I intercepted a message lastnight. Rogue communications, encrypted with old magic. It took me hours to break it.”
My blood runs cold. “What did it say?”
“General Veylor is coming. Personally.” Auren’s golden eyes bore into mine. “Soon. The message didn’t specify when—could be tomorrow, could be tonight. He’s bringing a full war party—twenty dragons, maybe more. And he’s not coming to negotiate.”
“Veylor.” The name tastes like ash. I remember him from the old wars—brutal, patient, missing a wing from a battle he should have lost. The kind of enemy who plays the long game. “He’s been planning this.”
“For months,” Zyphon confirms. “The attacks on your territory, the rogue who tested her power, the coordinated ambush—all of it was reconnaissance. He’s been studying you. Studying her. Finding your weaknesses.”
“And now he’s found one.” Rurik’s voice is uncharacteristically serious. “An unclaimed mate. A Fire-Bringer whose power isn’t anchored. Brother, you know what that means.”
I know. We discussed it at the last meeting—the vulnerability, the risk of magical compulsion. But hearing it again, with Veylor’s name attached, makes it real in a way it wasn’t before.
“There’s more.” Auren’s jaw tightens. “The message mentioned a ritual. Blood magic. They don’t just want to capture her, Drayke. They want to drain her. Use her blood to unseal the Dominion Relic and bind her fire to Veylor’s will.”
“She’d die.” The words come out hollow.
“Slowly. Painfully.” Zyphon doesn’t soften the truth. “The ritual requires her to be alive for the extraction. It could take hours. Days.”
