“Later. Keep moving.”
We run. More guards appear—she drops two before I can reach them, her shadow-flame responding to threats with deadly precision. It’s like her magic knows what we need before she does, clearing our path, covering our escape.
A ward flares ahead of us, blocking the eastern exit. I reach for it with my shadows, preparing to tear it apart?—
Nasyra’s hand touches my arm. “Wait.”
She closes her eyes. I feel something shift in her magic—not the destructive force she’s been wielding, but something subtler. Her shadow-flame reaches into the ward, finds its threads, and begins to unravel them with surgical precision.
The ward collapses. Silently. Completely.
“How did you?—“
“I don’t know.” Her voice is shaky. “I could see it. The structure. The weak points. I just... pulled.”
Her unique ability—sensing and unraveling magic. It survived death. Survived resurrection. Lakhu wanted to use it against us; instead, it’s helping us escape.
“That’s useful,” I manage.
“Apparently.” She almost sounds amused.
We’re almostto the perimeter when Lakhu finds us.
He emerges from the shadows like a nightmare given form, flanked by guards, his beautiful face twisted with rage. Shadow magic builds in his palm—not fire, but something darker. Something that makes my own darkness recoil in recognition.
“Did you think I wouldn’t feel you?” His smile is poison. “Your shadows stink of my father’s work.”
I push Nasyra behind me. “Run. Find the dragons fighting on the western side. They’re with me.”
“I’m not leaving you to?—“
“Touching.” Lakhu’s magic lashes toward us. “The weapon defending the monster. Do you even understand what he is, Fire-Bringer?”
I throw up a wall of shadows to block the attack—feel it shudder through my bones as his power meets mine. He’s strong. Knows every weakness, every vulnerability in the darkness I carry.
Then Nasyra’s shadow-flame joins my defense.
Not attacking—supporting. Her fire wraps around my shadows, stabilizing them, giving them an edge they’ve never had. The two magics move in unexpected synchronization, as if they remember something their wielders have forgotten.
Lakhu’s assault falters. “That shouldn’t be possible.”
“Apparently it is,” Nasyra says, and there’s something fierce in her voice now. Something that sounds almost like the woman I remember.
A roar splits the air above us.
Rurik descends like a comet of red-gold fire, his dragon form blazing against the darkness. His flames rake acrossLakhu’s guards, scattering them, forcing the prince to divide his attention.
Miss me?His voice crashes into my mind, bright with manic joy.Because I was getting bored on the other side. Not nearly enough things to set on fire.
Drayke follows, bronze scales gleaming, his fire cutting a path through the chaos. Between them, they’ve drawn the entire camp’s attention—leaving our escape route clear.
Go!Drayke commands.We’ll hold them!
I don’t argue. Grabbing Nasyra’s hand, I drag her toward the perimeter, tearing through the outer wards with brute force. Behind us, Rurik laughs—actually laughs—as he dives at a cluster of Shadow Clan dragons who scatter like startled birds.
Is he always like this?Nasyra’s voice in my head startles me. I didn’t know she could access the link.
Always.I pull her into the forest’s edge.Can you hold on if I shift?
