“You will break,” Anjani repeated, her eyes widening with a sickening delight.
Rhett’s expression didn’t waver. I watched as his cold eyes darkened, and the world around me faded to black.
Chapter Twelve
Daxton Aegaeon
Home, I was somehowhomein… Silver Meadows.
I awoke to the familiar sensation of the plush chaise fabric beneath my palm. The smell of books paired with the wild mountain air through a cracked window settled my center, mending what was broken and torn apart in the dungeons beneath Aelius’s keep. The sunlight, glorious, blazing sunlight, skittered along my lap as I sat up and gazed across my library.
It was quiet.
Warning bells sounded in my head, cautioning me of a looming doom hiding within the silence. I needed to investigate what was going on. I blinked, teleporting myself outside the palace, scanning over Silver Meadows below.
Tilting my chin upward, I detected the faint scent of smoke in the breeze. Spinning around, my breath stilled, witnessing the blazing scene unfolding before me.
The Summit wasburning.
Screams echoed across the grounds, with countless fae frantically running, trying to stop the ravenous flames from burning them alive.
I reached for my ice magic to contain the destruction, but when I called, nothing came. My magic, my well of power, went silent. I could not call upon my father’s gift to save my people.
How was I going to stop this?
“Dax!” Castor called from inside the flames.
“Daxton!” Gunnar’s scream erupted next.
“No!” I lunged forward into the flames, disregarding the threat of the smoldering walls collapsing around me. “Cas! Gunnar!” I shouted, coughing as I pushed through the thick clouds of smoke.
I sprinted through the burning entryway. My arms brushed against the sweltering flames, but not even the pain of the burns could stop me from reaching them. I frantically ripped away the fabric along my arm, realizing this fire was magically conjured and hot enough to cause our stone walls to crumble. My skin bubbled and blistered, but I forced that matter aside.
“Cas!” I roared again. “Gunnar!”
This fire could not be doused by water or smothered by dirt. It burned until the source was extinguished, or the caster was killed or drained. I knew of only a handful of fae or mages capable of this type of magic, but they were nowhere in sight.
“Dax!” My brother’s scream roared from the staircase.
Forgoing my own safety, I ran as fast as my feet could carry me toward the sound of his voice.
Smoke burned my lungs as my vision began to blur. The heat of the flames was hot enough to melt the surrounding stone. Skidding to a halt at the bottom of the broken stairs, my stomach dropped.
I tilted my head toward the glass skylight. The ceiling had shattered from the swell of gathering heat. The Summit was crumbling to pieces before my eyes.
“Daxton!”
At the top of the steps, I scarcely recognized the silhouette of Castor leaning on Gunnar’s shoulder through the rising smoke. I sucked in a sharp breath as the fumes began to clear, revealing how badly their bodies were blistered and burned.
I watched in horror as my brother’s eyes turned black.
Gunnar’s head tilted to the side, sensing Castor’s magic, and it only took a breath for him to understand.
“No! No, no, no!” I screamed as Gunnar’s stare met mine.
He bravely gave me a nod, not a single ounce of fear in his eyes, as the ground beneath them collapsed and erupted in flames.
“Castor! Gunnar!” I screamed. “No!” I roared, crumbling to my knees, uncertain what to do or think.
