He may think he knows what to expect, but he's not counting on the variables he can't control. Two dragons instead of one. The Brotherhood at our backs. A scientist-turned-warrior who understands how to turn environmental factors into tactical advantage.
The sun touches the horizon, painting everything in shades of blood and gold.
I look at Lila and she meets my eyes. Certainty flows between us, and then we're airborne—two dragons rising into the dying light.
Time to end this.
CHAPTER 14
LILA
Storm clouds swallow us whole the moment we cross into northern airspace.
Rain lashes against crimson scales and I bank left to compensate for wind shear that threatens to knock me sideways. Finn flies beside me, his larger dragon form cutting through turbulence with the kind of precision that comes from millennia of experience. Below us, through breaks in the cloud cover, I catch glimpses of the Brotherhood moving across the cliff paths.
The bond hums between us, carrying tactical information without words. Approach vectors. Wind patterns. The knowledge that Moira's rescue team should be hitting the lighthouse right now, creating the distraction we need.
Lightning splits the sky and I see it ahead—the convergence point.
Standing stones circle a tidal pool where three ley lines intersect. The stones rise from black rock, taller than I expected, arranged in patterns that make my scientist brain itch with questions about astronomical alignments and geological formation. Massive waves crash against the cliffs, sending spray high enough to coat the ritual circle in ocean mist.
And in the center, bound to one of the standing stones, Moira Flynn fights against chains that glow with unnatural green light.
Finn's grim realization hits me like a physical blow: Mikhail moved her. The lighthouse was a decoy.
Below, I spot Kian's tiger form racing across the cliffs with Rafe and Grayson. They must have hit the lighthouse and found it empty. Mikhail consolidated everything here, at the convergence point where he wanted us all along.
Phoenix fire erupts from the largest stone.
Mikhail rises from the flame, his phoenix form terrible and beautiful. Wings spread wider than Finn's dragon span, each feather edged in gold and crimson, burning with heat I can feel even from this distance. His eyes fix on us and I recognize the ancient malice there.
"Right on schedule. Let's see if your fledgling can keep up, Finn."
He doesn't wait for a response. The phoenix dives.
Finn meets him head-on and the sky erupts in flames. Dragon fire clashes with phoenix fire, the collision sends shockwaves that buffet my wings and make the air itself scream. I bank hard, feeling the heat wash over my scales even from this distance. The temperature spikes so fast that rain turns to steam before touching either combatant.
They're matched—centuries of grievance made physical, two ancient enemies finally in open battle. The phoenix moves with deadly grace, each wingbeat trailing fire that hangs in the air like burning ribbons. His talons rake across Finn's shoulder and I feel the pain echo through our connection, deep enough to draw blood that hisses when it hits rain-soaked scales but not enough to disable.
Finn counters with raw power. His jaws snap closed where Mikhail's neck was a heartbeat before, close enough that phoenix feathers ignite from proximity to dragon fire alone. Theheat radiating from both of them creates thermal updrafts that make flying near them like navigating a hurricane.
But this isn't a duel. This is a coordinated assault.
I fold my wings and dive, angling toward Mikhail's exposed left flank. Wind screams past my scales as I accelerate, using gravity and momentum the way I'd calculate a research vessel's approach to minimize fuel consumption. Except instead of saving fuel, I'm building kinetic energy for maximum impact.
The phoenix banks hard at the last second, forced to divide attention between two dragons instead of one. My talons rake across his wing and the contact sends shockwaves up my body. Phoenix fire doesn't just burn. It fights back, trying to consume anything that touches it. My scales hold but the heat penetrates, testing dragon resilience against magical flame.
Good. That's the advantage we planned for.
Through our connection, Finn's thoughts arrive clear and immediate:Drive him toward the ocean. I'll cut off the retreat.
I answer without words, just certainty flowing back, the same way I'd confirm a research hypothesis with supporting data.
Mikhail shifts mid-flight—silver mist and thunder, and suddenly it's a man plummeting through storm clouds. Before he can fall far, phoenix fire erupts again and he's back in bird form, rising on thermal currents with enough speed to clear Finn's snapping jaws.
Finn lands on Mikhail's back with one claw fisted in burning feathers. He sinks his claws in deeply between the phoenix’s wing joints and the phoenix screams, rolling to dislodge him. I watch as they fall—dragon and phoenix--locked together, spiraling toward the tidal pool below.
Folding my wings, I dive after them.
