The Relic’spower hits me like a wall.
I’m ten feet from Selene when it happens—a pulse of ancient magic that slams into my mind with the force of a physical blow. Commands flood through my skull. Kneel. Submit. Serve.
My dragon screams. I stagger, one knee hitting stone hard enough to crack the ancient floor. The compulsion isoverwhelming, pressing against my will with the weight of centuries.
“Feel it?” Veylor’s voice comes from somewhere above me, floating on waves of dark satisfaction. “The Dominion Relic. Beautiful, isn’t it? It was created to control dragons—all dragons. Your Brotherhood sealed it away because they feared its power. Weak. Pathetic. But your mate’s blood has weakened those seals. Soon, every dragon in this territory will kneel to me.”
No.My dragon rages against the chains wrapping around my mind.Will not kneel. Will not serve. MATE NEEDS US.
I force myself back to my feet. Muscles trembling. Bones aching. Every cell in my body fighting the compulsion to submit. One step toward Selene. Another. Each movement costs me—the Relic’s power pressing harder with every inch I gain.
“Impressive.” Veylor sounds almost admiring. “Most dragons collapse within seconds. Your control is remarkable.” A pause, heavy with malice. “It won’t save you.”
Another pulse of power. My vision whites out. Commands hammer against my skull—kneel, submit, obey, surrender—and for one terrible moment, my body tries to comply. My knees buckle. My head bows. My dragon howls in fury and despair.
Then the claiming mark flares.
Warmth floods through me—Selene’s fire, joining mine, fighting alongside my dragon against the Relic’s compulsion. She’s barely conscious, bleeding out against cold stone, but she’s still fighting. Still burning. Still mine.
My fire rises to meet hers. Gold against red. Heat against cold. Our combined flames pushing back against the artifact’s ancient power.
The Relic’s commands shatter against our combined heat. I surge forward, claws extended, and Veylor’s face shifts from satisfaction to shock as I close the distance.
“Impossible,” he snarls. “The claiming mark can’t?—”
“Clearly it can.” I reach Selene. My claws tear through her chains, and she collapses into my arms.
She’s cold.Too cold. Her heartbeat flutters against my chest—weak, uneven, fading. The blood loss has taken too much. The Relic’s drain has stolen what remained.
“Drayke.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “Knew you’d come.”
“Don’t ever doubt it.” I press my palm against her claiming mark, feeding my fire into her. The flames respond eagerly, pouring through my hand and into her chest, fighting the cold that’s stealing her away. But it’s not enough. The Relic’s drain is too strong.
The altar pulses again, and this time, the compulsion targets both of us.
Selene cries out. I feel her fire flicker, feel the Relic trying to rip her power away, drain the last of her life to complete its awakening. The altar’s red glow intensifies, channels filling with her blood, her magic, her everything.
“Can’t...” She grips my shirt with trembling hands, knuckles white. “Can’t hold it...”
Veylor laughs—a harsh, grating sound that echoes through the cavern. “The claiming mark delays the inevitable. But you can’t stop the Relic’s awakening. Her blood has already begun the process. She’ll die feeding its power, and you’ll watch—then serve.”
Rogues circle closer. A dozen of them, maybe more. Too many to fight while holding Selene. Too many to defeat before the Relic finishes draining her.
Except.
The claiming mark pulses against my palm. Our fires, still intertwined from the ritual hours ago. Still merged. Still one. The claiming didn’t just bind our souls—it fused our flames.
Together.The realization crashes through me with the force of revelation.Our fire is one. Use it. Channel it. BURN THE RELIC DOWN.
“Selene.” I grip her tighter, press our foreheads together. “The claiming fire. It’s still in both of us. We can use it—channel it through the mark. Our combined power against the Relic’s.”
Her eyes flutter open. Gray and beautiful and full of pain, but also full of trust. Full of fire. “I don’t... have much left...”
“You have me.” I pour more of my fire into her, letting it merge with what remains of hers. “Take what you need. Everything I have is yours. It’s always been yours.”
“Romantic,” Veylor snarls. “Pathetic. Kill them both.”
Rogues lunge forward.
