I could see the war taking place all over him.
Because he knew how badly it could go if not carried out properly.
But then I saw a spark in his eye.
He nodded, then gave the order for everyone to pull back and clear the way.
Flame had three dozen of the injured collected and teleported out for medical attention.
Everyone else took position again further back, though, almost touching the city, because the enemy had drawn so much closer. Despite everything we’d thrown at them.
“Here goes nothing,” I said to Zayn, taking his hand, and bursting him with me a few feet in front of Dad, Grandma, Torvek, and Fanor.
I let go of him, then we moved a few feet apart, very aware of the hostiles just fifty feet out now from decimating all of us. I could hear Zayn’s pulse going wild.
“Zayn—”
“You think I’m freaking out. And I partly am. Obviously. Look at this shitshow. But if you just used your sexy dragon senses to read me—” At reactions from the troops behind us, he called over his shoulder, “Yeah, I said ‘sexy’. She fucking is. Said it, owned it, done.”
There were a lot of stunned looks, but then chatter broke out, and some laughter.
I eyed Zayn. “You did that on purpose.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Figured a morale boost was warranted.” He shifted his weight. “The pulse thing, though, the ‘freaking out’, is me channeling the chaos of my flame, gathering, coiling. We’ve got to connect carefully at first, but then send out a massive rush. As an Ifrit, if I do that without the prep aspect, I could burn it out accidentally—and, ironically, myself as well.” He winced. “Feels like shit. And worse, it’ll make me useless for a while afterward.” He narrowed his eyes at the enemy. “And what we’re trying to do here isn’t gonna fail. Not gonna let it.”
I smiled. “I love you.”
His eyes shone. “Love you, too.”
Then as he ramped himself up further, I did the opposite needed for my end of things, and drew in a couple of steadying breaths, then thrust out my right hand, my glacial magic emanating in a vibrant glow.
Zayn shot out his left hand about four feet away from mine, and his fuchsia power flared in the form of wildly lashing flames.
I pulled harder, forging the glow into a glacial sphere.
Zayn did the same, his flames licking and lashing around the circumference.
We both poured more power into them, until they were two-feet in diameter hovering between us, just a mere inch from touching.
“Ready?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he said, giving a definitive nod, then shifting his weight.
We pushed the spheres closer, both of us grunting as they connected. His fire blazed against my ice, shooting painful sparks through my fingers, and quickly traveling up my arm.
I pushed back with more power, leveling it off and sending his fire back into the sphere along with some added stabilization of my ice and frost.
There was resistance then, and I couldn’t push my sphere further into his. It was connected just an inch in, when they needed to align as one perfectly before we could launch it at the enemy—an enemy that was rapidly closing in.
“Zayn, it’s okay.”
“It hurt you.”
“Just upon the initial connecting aspect. I saw it hurt you too, my ice stabbed at you, didn’t it?”
He averted his eyes.
“Now they’ve made the connection, it’s okay. But you holding back isn’t going to work. You actually need to let loose. I’ll balance against that on my end.”
