Page 111 of Dragon’s Rebel

The dragons were going crazy, spells misfiring in all directions.

Tempest ran out onto the tomb, right over Vyrkos’ head. All her fear and fury for Tyr and her friends, for Rebel and Thorne, coalesced in her mind.

She held the idol in both hands and reached for the connection to Vyrkos.

“Stop that right now!” she commanded. Power surged through her, and she saw her hands start to glow.

The shaking stopped. Everything stopped, frozen.

Tempest, what are you doing?

She had to block out Tyr’s voice. “Vyrkos, stop it! Go back to sleep!”

For a second she thought she’d done it. Then she felt the Draken Lord’s anger gathering, pushing back at her, huge and dark and terrifying.

But Tyr and Zane were free. Vyrkos was paying attention to her, not them, and the cracks in the tomb had stopped.

The shaking had stopped.

Zane slammed a crushing spell into another sorcerer, knocking him backwards. Tyr took out a swath of hellhounds that were bearing down on her.

Then all that fell away. Vyrkos anger pressed down on her like an enormous boulder. She braced herself, fighting back, feeling like Atlas in the Greek myth, holding up the world.

It was crushing her. She felt her nose start bleeding, and then her ears. But she wouldn’t give up.

She wouldn’t give up.