The storm howled overhead, and she began shaping its core, preparing for the moment the eye would open—brief, perfect, and theirs to take. Her fingers trembled, the current in her veins burning hot.
It was going to be a verylooongnight.
Race moved through the darkness, his boots silent on the worn stone. The air pressed down. Shadows crawled over the walls, and for a moment, the old nightmares—red-hot shackles, chains, screams, endless darkness—rose like a tide. His breath stuttered, and his dragon growled, clawing to break free.
No, dammit.
He reached inward for Ash’s warmth, that steady glow inside him, and breathed again. The darkness eased its grip.
His every sense honed to a blade’s edge once more.
The tunnel reeked of damp stone and old dragon magic, but something fouler slid beneath—fear, and the metallic tang of blood soaked too deeply into rock to ever fade.
His claws extended involuntarily, piercing his palms. Blood welled warm against his skin as the rut simmered beneath, stretching his control thinner with each breath. He forced his talons to retract, jaw locked so tight his teeth ached—not surprised the tiny portion of elixir hadn’t sustained him for long.
Koal halted at a junction, his head cocked, scouting mentally. “Patrol coming.”
Fuck! He should’ve caught that. The fever was screwing with his head, shredding his focus.
“It’s a full squad,” Koal growled. “They’ve got hounds.”
Of course. Why the hell would it ever be simple? Sneak in, save the young, tear down this godsdamn hellhole, and walk away.
The faint metallic clicks of weapons echoed down the passage, followed by low, inhuman growls. Race caught the acrid odor of the beasts, mutts forged with dragon blood to track shifter signatures. One whiff of their group and?—
“Back,” he growled.
Too late.
The hounds’ barks shattered the dark as guards rounded the corner, their weapons raised. “Intruders!”
Arrows hissed through the air. Race blurred forward?—
A shaft hissed for Skaldr as he set the first charge. Race snapped the arrow midair, the rut-fever surging hot and violent, honing his focus to feral aggression. He lunged for the guard, and armor tore beneath his massive talons. Bone crunched as his claws closed in on the guard’s heart. Screams tore the air.
Steel clanged around them, the ruckus echoing sharply in the contained space.
Varkyn’s massive form filled the tunnel behind him. “Find the rest of those pressure vents, plant the charges,” he barked at Skaldr. “We’ll hold here!”
His vision pulsed red at the edges, the rut-fever sharpening every sense to a predator’s edge. He summoned his Gaian sword. It appeared in a smoky flash, its edge humming with living power, and he swung, beheading the bastard charging him.
Pain flared white-hot as steel bit into his back. He spun with a snarl and drove his fist through the attacker’s chest. The guard shrieked as his ribs snapped like twigs.
“Side tunnel, guards!” Rhaedra’s warning sliced through the chaos. She spun, her hair flying and her sword swinging as reinforcements poured from the right.
No time for this shit.
“Duck!” Race barked. The instant his team dropped, he flung out his free hand—fire arrows exploded from his palm, a storm of molten light punching through armor and flesh. Screams echoed off the stone as they burned where they stood. Gaia’s gift, his fire, honed into a weapon this world had never seen.
Normal dragons could only spew flames.
He was all flame and weapon.
He stalked past the smoking bodies without slowing.
“Hold!” Koal’s voice carried from ahead. “Magic traps here…” His voice faded.
“What the fuck now?” Skaldr growled. “Rhaedra, can you undo them?”
