And Selene’s hand covers mine on her claiming mark.
The explosionof fire isn’t mine.
It isn’t hers.
It’s ours.
Golden flames erupt from the claiming mark in a wave that fills the cavern. The rogues closest to us don’t even have time to scream—they dissolve into ash, consumed by fire that burns hotter than dragonflame, purer than anything I’ve ever created alone.
The Relic shrieks.
Not a sound—a sensation. Ancient power recoiling from our combined heat, the altar’s glow flickering as our fire crashesagainst it. The carved channels darken. The blood within them evaporates.
“No!” Veylor’s roar echoes through the chamber. “The Relic—you can’t?—”
More fire. I pour everything I have into Selene, and she channels it through the mark, amplified and transformed. Fire-Bringer fire merged with dragon flame. Centuries of sealed power meeting raw, claiming heat.
The Relic’s compulsion shatters completely. Its presence in my mind recoils, retreating, fading.
“Again,” Selene whispers. Her grip on my hand tightens. Her fire blazes brighter—not fading anymore, but growing. Drawing strength from mine. From us. “More.”
We give the Relic everything we have.
The altar cracks. Black stone splits down the center, red glow dying as our golden fire consumes it. The channels carved into the floor collapse inward. The pillars tremble.
And then, with a final pulse of combined power, the Dominion Relic goes silent.
Not destroyed. I can still feel it beneath the stone, ancient and patient. But dormant. Sealed again by fire that burned hotter than whatever blood magic first created it.
Veylor snarls something—a curse, a promise of revenge—as the fortress shakes. The remaining rogues scatter, those who can still move dragging themselves toward exits. I don’t chase them. Can’t. Selene is limp in my arms, our shared fire fading to embers as exhaustion takes us both.
“Selene.” I touch her face, her neck, searching for a pulse. “Stay with me.”
Her heartbeat flutters against my fingertips. Weak, but steadier than before. The claiming mark glows softly on her chest—not fighting anymore. Healing.
“Did we win?” Her voice is barely a breath.
I pull her closer, press my lips to her hair. “We won.”
“Good.” A pause. “Tell Veylor he’s an asshole.”
I look up. The space where Veylor stood is empty—he fled with his rogues, the coward. But it doesn’t matter. Not right now. What matters is the woman in my arms, alive and breathing and still cracking jokes with blood drying on her skin.
“I’ll tell him myself,” I promise. “When I find him.”
“Good.” Her eyes drift closed. “I want to watch.”
I carryher out of the fortress as it crumbles around us.
The Relic’s dormancy destabilized the ancient structure—stones falling, walls collapsing, centuries of dark magic unraveling. Zyphon runs beside me, covering our retreat as pillars crash behind us. I shift to dragon form the moment we clear the entrance, Selene cradled against my chest, wings catching the night air as the stronghold caves in behind us. A final rumble, a cloud of dust, and it’s gone. Buried.
Like a wound finally closed.
She sleeps against my scales, her breathing even, her heartbeat growing stronger with each passing moment. The claiming mark pulses in time with my own—two flames, permanently intertwined. Two souls that survived the Relic’s hunger because they refused to burn alone.
Auren and Rurik join us in the sky, rising from the fortress ruins. Rurik’s head wound has been hastily bandaged, but his grin is as sharp as ever.
Upper levels are clear.Rurik’s mental voice carries smug satisfaction.No survivors. Well, none that’ll walk again.
