Race’s ice-cold fury shattered. He dove through the horde, his blade swinging with brutal precision. Heads toppled, bodies dropped—the chamber ran slick with blood.
“Your sire couldn’t stop me. Why should his broken whelp succeed?” Malcarion flicked his hand, and another surge of stolen power ripped through the chamber, shattering stone. “You fled, left your people to die while you hid in the dark like a coward.”
Race’s lips curled back, his fangs bared at the lie. “You know nothing of the dark.”
Malcarion sneered. “I know enough. Tartarus was your punishment, was it not? A pit for failures.”
“Failure?” His vision turned crimson. “Because you couldn’t get what you wanted from me?Youhad me incarcerated there. Shackled. Tortured for centuries.” His grip tightened on the sword. “And Iendured—for this moment!”
Silence slammed down.
Even the sickly greenish-red light of the forge stones seemed to falter.
Koal’s and Skaldr’s sharp breaths ricocheted around the space, their shocked stares nailing him.
Race ignored them. “Today, your reign ends. Your perverseness is over.”
“Today, who I am awakens,” Malcarion snarled, spewing a torrent of dragonfire, only it fell a foot short of Race. “I will wear the Ember Crown. I am Lemuria’s king. Your ghosts will never haunt me again!”
“Fucking lunatic,” Koal muttered. “He’s already wearing the damn thing.”
“It’s not—” Nails of fire hammered Race’s skull as flickers of memory tore loose?—
A room carved from black stone, wards crawling like fire over his skin, burning.
He screamed.
“Release your powers, whelp,” Malcarion snarled. “The Ember Crown will accept me.”
“I have nothing,” he rasped, agony lancing him as Malcarion tried to force him to bend.
“Maybe starvation will give me what I want,” he hissed. “Or Tartarus!”
Fuck!Race shook his head, trying to dislodge those fragmented memories. And the truth slammed him in the solar plexus like a sledgehammer.
Thiswas why he now hunted the children.
He couldn’t get what he wanted from Race—an adult—and who knew from how many others. But a child who couldn’t hold onto their power? Easy prey to siphon their untouched abilities. All this because the insane fucker thought he could release the true crown from its pedestal?—
Bastard!
No one could touch the real Ember Crown except the one born to rule.
“The Ember Crown will never accept you,” Race said coldly. “It was forged for Pyr’xian’s bloodline. I die, and Lemuria dies with me. No stolen scrap of power can change that.”
“Lies!”
“Pity whoever you conspired with for our downfall didn’t inform you of that little detail?—”
Malcarion let go of the grid, roared, and flung his hands wide. Power ripped from the forge stones, and screams echoed in hundreds of childish voices. The blast tore stone from the walls, hurling Koal and Skaldr back and shaking the chamber.
It hit Race full force, searing the air from his lungs and shredding the granite around him. He shuddered and braced against it, his dragonfire roaring in his blood.
“You think you can kill me?” Malcarion spat, convulsing as more power poured into him. “No one can!” His cracked lips twisted into a smile. “I am almighty now. You will bow to the perfected line.” His body swelled, the skin splitting in places where light burned through.
“Kneel, princeling, and I might let you live.” Energy swirled around him in a shield. “I am Lemuria’s crown!”
The pressure inside his skull detonated, pain ricocheting?—
