Cutting off his air, watching his face move from red to blue.
He tries to rasp out last words, a plea. But Seren’s had enough.
CRUNCH.
The bones of his neck crack under the force of the Death magic bind.
My eyes meet Seren’s—no remorse, no regret, only relief.
I nod in approval, and she nods back.
But the chaos of battle rips me away before I can see what she does next.
Elyssara’s Starforged Blade sears wounds through necks, threads through ribs with the precision of a butcher.
For the first time since this war began, the sound of fear is drowned out by the sound ofunity.
Then the sky splits.
Ronyn screams—half-agony, half-rebirth—and Tarrakai answers the call.
Fire blooms along his veins, bones cracking and reforming, skin turning to scale. The roar that tears from his throat isn’t mortal—it’s scripture.
The kind of sound the gods once knelt to.
And Elyssara—she’s standing in the storm, eyes bright as twin suns, her hair whipped into a halo of gold and shadow. She looks at the dragon like she’s known him across lifetimes.
For a heartbeat, the battle stills.
Shocked gasps, strangled fear breaking from throats.
Whispers of dragons and witches tangle with blood and last breaths.
“They’ve awoken the Melders!”
“The dragons are here!”
“The Flame-heart has risen!”
“The witches live on!”
Tarrakai drops to his belly, but not in submission.In invitation.
His gleaming onyx scales glisten under the rip revealing the night sky, a hulking, terrible thing that commands the battle. His golden eyes don’t blink, they challenge the Caelorians to approach.
Elyssara smiles a wicked, cruel smile. The kind of smile a warrior wears when victory is imminent.
When she mounts him, the air itself bows.
The breeze halts. The battlefield stiffens.
Even death stops to watch.
Tarrakai rears, wings unfurling like cathedrals of fire. Elyssara’s mark blazes at her chest—my Lightborne. My Starbound. Dravara’s Queen. Daughter of the Unknown.My love.
Then they rise.
Lightborne astride dragonfire.
