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Then immediately: "PUSH!" No.

"DON'T CHASE THEM!" My voice tears through the courtyard. Some hear. Some don't. A wolf student breaks formation anyway. Runs after a retreating Hollowborn. Three more appear from the smoke.

Of course.

"BACK!" Too late. One catches him across the chest. He goes down. The others surround. I can't get there.

He disappears beneath bodies.

No time.

"SECONDARY LINE!" I shout. "GIVE THEM THE COURTYARD!" A second-year looks at me like I'm insane.

"We can hold!"

"No, you fucking can't!" There. Honest. A blast hits the wall beside us. Stone fragments cut my cheek. I taste blood. "MOVE!" They move. Finally.

We surrender half the courtyard. It feels wrong.

Every instinct screams failure. Vayne's voice: That's how you lose more. Fine. Let them have stone. Keep people.

The Hollowborn advance. Then stop. Interesting.

Why? A dragon drops through the smoke. Not Theryn. One of ours. Bronze. Injured. Her Rider still mounted. Barely. She lands inside the abandoned courtyard and immediately folds one wing wrong.

Fuck. "CLEAR HER!" Students scatter. Good.

Training. Body language. Tail. Wing. Head. She is panicking. Not attacking. Her Rider tries to dismount and falls.

I run. Cassian with me. Nyra behind. We reach the Rider. Blood along his side.

"Can you move?"

"Dragon—"

"We know."

"She can't fly."

"I know."

"Don't leave her."

"We won't." Probably.

The dragon's attention snaps west. Head high. Neck rigid. Again. West. Again. Again. Warning.

"DOWN!" I don't know why. Do it anyway.

Magic tears across the courtyard. White-black. Exactly where we were standing. The bronze dragon roars. There. She knew. Before us. Again.

"WESTERN ROOF!" Cassian shouts. I look.

Three white-eyed figures. One with magic gathered around both hands.

Nyra attacks first. Fae magic lashes upward. Not as strong as usual. Enough. One falls. Cassian hits another with a blade. I throw at the third. Miss. Left hand. Damn. Second dagger. Hits. Shoulder. Not enough. The figure jumps. From the roof. Lands wrong. Bone cracks. Keeps moving. Fuck.

I meet him halfway. He swings. I block. Right arm still numb at the edges. Switch. Left. Again. He grabs my throat. Blood Echo opens. Not choice. Instinct. His blood becomes a map. Too easy. Not needed.