Rurik’s hand grips mine so tight, the bones grind together. We run—sprint—through passages that twist and turn, the stone walls pressing closer with every step. Behind us, Valdris’s laughter echoes off ancient rock, reverberating through my skull like a promise of death.
“Left.” Drayke’s voice cuts through the chaos. He showed up out of nowhere ahead of us. It takes me a second to realize he came through an adjoining tunnel. He’s in half-shift, claws scraping stone as he leads us deeper into the mountain. “There’s a chamber ahead. Large enough to fight.”
“Fight?” Selene’s fire flickers at her palms, casting wild shadows. “Against that?”
None of us answer. We all felt what Valdris became when she fully manifested—power older than civilizations, rage refined over millennia of imprisonment. The Crimson Queen isn’t just a dragon. She’s a force of nature given flesh and fury.
The tunnel opens into a vast cavern. My breath catches.
The draining chamber. I recognize it instantly—the black stone altar at the center, the channels carved into the floorthat once ran red with my blood. The Relic pulses in the walls, ancient magic throbbing like a diseased heart.
“Here.” Drayke skids to a halt, turning to face the tunnel we emerged from. “We make our stand here.”
Rurik pulls me behind him, his body already rippling with scales. “Stay close. Whatever happens?—“
“I’m not hiding.” I call fire to my hands. It comes easier now, answering my fury instead of my fear. “She used my blood in this room. I want to watch her die in it.”
His jaw tightens. But he doesn’t argue—just shifts his stance to fight beside me rather than in front of me.
Valdris emerges from the tunnel like a nightmare given form.
She’s magnificent. Terrible. Crimson scales gleaming in the Relic’s sickly light, wings mantled wide enough to brush both walls, flames licking from between fangs the length of my forearm. Her presence fills the cavern, pressing against my lungs, demanding submission.
“Little flames.” Her voice echoes from everywhere at once. “You run so well. But the hunt ends here.”
Drayke shifts fully. Bronze scales erupt across his body, wings snapping wide, a roar tearing from his throat that shakes dust from the ceiling. Beside him, Rurik completes his own transformation—red-gold fury with flames already licking from his wings.
Two Guardian dragons against the Crimson Queen.
It’s not enough. We all know it’s not enough.
But we fight anyway.
RURIK
Valdris is faster than anything her size should be.
I lunge for her flank. She pivots, tail sweeping, and the impact sends me crashing into the cavern wall. Stone cracks. Ribs scream. I’m up again before the debris settles, but she’s already engaging Drayke, her claws raking across his shoulder, her fire meeting his in explosions of crimson and gold.
PROTECT MATE. KILL THREAT. BURN HER DOWN.
My dragon roars its fury. I answer with fire—pouring everything I have into a blast aimed at Valdris’s exposed wing. She screams as the membrane tears, but the wound closes almost instantly, ancient magic knitting flesh faster than I can damage it.
“Foolish children.” Valdris catches Drayke by the throat, slams him into the altar hard enough to crack the stone. “You cannot kill what is eternal.”
Fire erupts from across the chamber. Not mine. Not dragon fire at all.
Aisling stands with flames wreathing both arms, her face carved from determination. Selene flanks her, their combined fire creating a barrier that makes even Valdris pause.
“Maybe not.” Aisling’s voice carries across the chaos. “But we sure as hell can try.”
Valdris laughs. The sound scrapes against my skull, ancient and cruel. “Fire-Bringers. So brave. So fragile.” Her attention fixes on Aisling with hungry intensity. “Your blood sang so sweetly when I drained it, little flame. I wonder how your screams will sound when I finish what I started.”
I hit her from behind.
Full force. Claws extended. Fire blazing from every inch of my scales. The impact drives her forward, breaks her focus on Aisling, and Drayke is there to meet her—jaws closing on her already-injured wing, tearing, rending.
Valdris shrieks. Not in pain—in outrage. How dare we touch her? How dare we fight back?
