Page 53 of Ash and Burn

No. Not my family's legacy.

Ryx shifted into his massive bronze dragon form mid-stride, his armored scales gleaming as he launched himself at the two rogues with the brutal efficiency Calix had come to rely on.

I've got this handled, Ryx's voice projected through the dragon link. Don't let Arvid fight Cevryn alone. Go protect her and the Undying Flame.

Calix wanted to argue—wanted to finish these rogues himself—but Arvid was already sprinting toward the front entrance where Cevryn had just disappeared. The sight of his mate charging into danger made his dragon roar with protective fury.

The completed bond pulsed with her unwavering focus and heightened adrenaline, but also with something that made his chest tight with terror—her absolute willingness to sacrifice herself to protect what mattered to him and his kingdom.

Not happening. Not today. Not ever.

Calix shifted into his human form mid-lunge, his feet hitting the pyrestone steps of Ashspire as his massive wings folded into nothing. The shift cost him precious seconds, but navigating the estate's interior required human form—and the narrow staircase to his private chambers would never accommodate his dragon's size.

She's up there. Fighting for everything we've built.

He took the grand staircase three steps at a time, his protectiveness surging. Ashspire had never been breached. Not in a thousand years of Silvanus rule. The violation of it made him see red.

Almost there.

The second flight passed in a blur of pyrestone and ancestral portraits that had witnessed eleven generations of his bloodline. Calix finally crested the final staircase and burst into his private chambers. The massive open space that usually felt like a sanctuary now resembled a battlefield. The furniture had been overturned. Books scattered across the floor like fallen soldiers. But his attention locked immediately on the Vael Terrace beyond the French doors.

Arvid stood between Cevryn and the Undying Flame, a wicked short blade gleaming in her grip. The weapon looked military-issue—balanced for throwing and designed for killing. Where she'd acquired it, Calix couldn't guess but watching her wield it with deadly competence sent possessive satisfaction roaring through his chest.

That's my fierce mate. My queen.

Cevryn circled her like a predator testing defenses, his silver-threaded hair disheveled for the first time since Calix had known him. The High Elder's expensive robes were torn and blood stained the fine fabric. Arvid had clearly made him work for every inch.

"You cannot protect what doesn't belong here," Cevryn snarled, lunging forward with desperate fury.

Arvid sidestepped with fluid grace. "Calix belongs here, and I belong exactly where I choose to belong. And I've chosen here by his side protecting this kingdom."

Perfect answer.

But even as pride swelled in Calix's chest, he watched Cevryn's composure finally shatter completely. The measured politician disappeared, replaced by something feral and unhinged. The High Elder's form began to shimmer with the telltale heat distortion that preceded a shift.

No.

Calix sprinted across his destroyed chambers toward the terrace as Cevryn's human form dissolved into his silver dragon. The older dragon was elegant and precise, built for efficiency rather than raw power—but still massive enough to incinerate Arvid with a single breath. The silver dragon's pale blue eyes fixed on her with cruel intent and its neck arched back, preparing to unleash fire that would reduce his mate to ash.

Calix launched himself through the doorway onto the Vael Terrace and shifted mid-stride. His human form exploded into his massive red dragon, and soon his wingspan cast shadows across the entire terrace. The transformation happened so fast that momentum carried him directly into Cevryn's silver form, claws and teeth seeking purchase.

The impact sent both dragons tumbling across the ancient stonework and into the open sky. The Undying Flame's golden vessel rocked but held steady—a thousand years of engineering designed to withstand any force of nature.

Cevryn recovered first, his smaller size allowing greater maneuverability, and pale blue fire erupted from his jaws. The blast seared along Calix's left flank in a line of agony that made his vision blur.

Bastard's faster than I expected.

But speed meant nothing against raw power. Calix's black-core fire answered with devastating force, the white-hot flames making Cevryn's silver form recoil just enough so Calix could lunge forward to seek purchase in the older dragon's flesh.

They grappled in the air above Ashspire for long minutes, claws raking scales and teeth seeking throats. Cevryn fought with the desperation of someone who knew this was his final gambit. No retreat. No quarter. Just the brutal mathematics of survival.

Calix's superior size should have ended it quickly, but Cevryn's precision kept finding gaps in his defenses. Another blast of pale fire caught Calix across the chest and Cevryn's claws raked near his throat. But a perfectly timed counterstrike caught Cevryn along his right flank, making Cevryn miss the killing blow by mere inches.

Then Cevryn suddenly shrieked. Not from the blow to his flank but from something else. Calix's vision honed in on the older dragon's chest, and there, a wicked blade protruded from Cevryn's chest, buried to the hilt just below his heart. Crimson blood started pouring around the steel like molten mercury.

Arvid.

She stood on the damaged terrace, her throwing arm still extended from the perfect release. The distance couldn't have been more than ten feet, but hurling a blade with enough force to penetrate dragon scales required strength and precision that most warriors never achieved.