I snarl and flop sideways.
“Ronit!” Leaf shouts, and the panic is something I don’t want to hear in my dragon.
Suddenly, I’m hoisted off the ground, a large hand holding me by my throat.
“Heal yourself, Strega. Right now.”
His voice rips the heat from my brain. The command of our alpha presses against my will.
“Ronit? Just give me to him. End this.”
“Never!” he growls, and his lips crash down on mine.
I’m breathing hard when he pulls back.
“Please, you can be free.”
“I don’t want to be free without you,” he says dismissively.
“No, please. Don’t do this.”
His fingers tighten on my throat, a sharp warning. “Enough. Heal yourself. Do it now,” he snarls.
I unwillingly find the rune and sketch it, gasping as a wave of exhaustion hits me. Ronit presses his lips to mine and then disappears. I crumple to the floor on my knees. He was glowing, I couldn’t see him clearly, but I could see his face, a little bit. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, long hair.
The wonder of it is stolen as Deux sends Lirin flying. He lands hard and rolls.
“Lirin!” I whisper and try to crawl to him. Leaf grabs me, holding me still.
Ronit is next, then Reed.
Canto struggles alone, but then his sword goes, and he’s on his knees.
I struggle, but Leaf holds me still.
“Help them,” I hiss at the dragon.
“I’m too far from the oceans, I have nothing.”
Brio sings then shrieks. I whimper when I realise Deux has hurt him.
“No!”
I shrug free of Leaf and rush into the fray, spinning and attacking Deux. Our battle is intense and vicious. I ignore my wounds, ignore my exhaustion. The heat dogs every part of my body, but I ignore that, too. We spin and fight, faster and faster, exchanging blows that humans couldn’t hope to survive.
“Die!” he roars and shoves me back.
I fall, tripping over a rock I can’t see, and he leaps.
I know I’m going to die.
“NO!” Leaf cries.
Leaf flies over me and intercepts the monster, slamming them both to the ground not far from me. I push up, but something is happening. I can feel it.
The Sirens' song gets loud and haunting. It rips through the fabric of the world, it pulls at me, demanding my surrender, demanding my life.
The world spins, the winds pick up. I can hear screaming, but I don’t know who it is.
