“Brother.”
The word ripped from Viktor’s chest.
His own face stared back at him through the flame.
The fire of life.
The ice of death.
The breath of Azrikel:“Now.”
Viktor’s eyes burned white. His Endowment surged into the dragon’s spine. Rending scales. Tearing flesh. Opening the other side.
Flame became shadow. Shadow became chains.
Darkness. Silence. Void.
Awake.
Stripped of armor.
Mantle rent.
Caged behind the dragon’s eyes.
Viktor stood in a hall of iron light, air thick with ash. A thousand souls breathed in chains, rattling like wind through bone. But one called out above the rest. The voice, an echo of his own.
“Viktor…”
Adamar’s gasp ripped through torn lungs.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
Viktor crossed stone and ash, both hands clutching his brother’s face.
“I’ve come to set you free.”
“You can’t.”
Adamar’s voice shook the dark.
“She wants us both. She’s paid the price.”
“I’ll burn before I leave you.”
Lightning crawled Viktor’s veins, storm thrumming in his bones.
“I couldn’t save you then—”
The cot. Westport dusk. His brother’s breath rattling, stolen. Powerless.
“—Never again. Not you. Not her. Not anyone. I can now.And I will.”
The prison shuddered.
Souls screamed.
Ashakar bellowed.
