“The altar!” Auren’s voice cuts through the battle. I hadn’t seen him arrive, but there he is—gold-white scales gleaming as he crashes through the tunnel entrance. “The Relic powers her! Destroy the altar!”
Valdris’s head snaps toward him. “NO!”
She lunges for Auren, but Drayke intercepts—body-checking her hard enough to send both of them tumbling across the stone floor. I don’t wait. Don’t think. Just pivot toward the black altar and pour every ounce of fire I possess into its heart.
The stone cracks. Fractures spread across its surface. But it’s not enough—the Relic’s magic is too deep, too ancient?—
White-gold fire joins mine. Aisling, standing at my side, her flames intertwining with my own. And then Selene—her controlled burn adding to the assault. And finally Drayke, breaking away from Valdris long enough to add his blaze to ours.
Four fires. Merged. United.
The altar explodes.
AISLING
The shockwave throws me backward.
Rurik catches me before I hit the ground—his shifted form curling around mine, scales absorbing the impact that would have shattered my bones. The cavern fills with blinding light, ancient magic releasing in a cascade of power that makes my Fire-Bringer blood sing.
And Valdris screams.
Not a sound of rage this time. Pain. Pure, undiluted agony as the Relic that sustained her, that amplified her power, that kept her immortal for two thousand years—shatters.
“What have you done?” She staggers, crimson scales dulling, flames guttering at her wings. “What have you?—“
“Killed you.” Drayke’s voice is gravel and fury. He advances on her, bronze scales splattered with blood—hers, his, impossible to tell. “The way we should have done two thousand years ago.”
“You cannot.” But there’s fear in her now. Real fear, maybe for the first time in millennia. “I am eternal. I am?—“
“You’re dying.” I push myself up, Rurik’s claws steadying me. My fire flickers at my palms—weaker now, drained from the assault on the altar, but still there. Still mine. “The Relic is destroyed. Your power is fading. And you’re surrounded by enemies who have every reason to want you dead.”
Valdris’s form wavers. For a moment, she’s not a dragon at all—just a woman. Beautiful. Terrible. Ancient beyond comprehension. Her raven hair falls around a face that might have been carved from marble, if marble could hold such hatred.
“I will not die here.” She draws herself up, flames gathering at her hands—diminished but still deadly.
“You don’t get a choice.” Rurik shifts to human form, placing himself between me and the queen. “Not anymore.”
Valdris laughs. Broken. Bitter. “You think you’ve won, little flame? You think destroying one Relic ends this?” Her attention fixes on me, and even diminished, her presence makes my skin crawl. “There are others. Older. Stronger. And when they wake?—“
“Then we’ll destroy those too.” I step forward, fire building in my palms. “But you won’t be there to see it.”
Four dragons close in. Two Fire-Bringers. One ancient queen with nowhere left to run.
Valdris attacks.
It’s a last desperate strike—fire and fury concentrated into a single blast aimed at me. The Fire-Bringer whose blood she coveted. The one she considers her property.
Rurik moves faster.
He doesn’t shift. Doesn’t need to. He just steps into the blast, arms spread wide, his own fire rising to meet hers?—
And I’m there beside him.
Our flames merge. Wild red-gold and controlled white intertwining, creating something neither of us could manage alone. The impact of Valdris’s attack crashes against our combined defense, and for one terrible moment, I think it’s not enough?—
Then Drayke’s fire joins ours. Bronze and ancient, the power of a Guardian King. And Selene’s. And Auren’s. Five fires becoming one. A wall of flame that doesn’t just block Valdris’s attack?—
It consumes it. Reverses it. Sends it roaring back toward the Crimson Queen with the combined fury of everyone she’s ever hurt.
