Kingdom of Fire and Fae, page 15
“Well,” he said, trying to keep his balance, “at least I didn’t turn into a sandwich.”
Lanae wiped away tears of laughter. “Small victories, Draven. Small victories.”
The training grounds echoed with their laughter, the evening air carrying the sound into the trees. And even though he hadn’t fully shifted, Draven knew he was making progress. Slowly but surely, he’d get there. But he wasn’t sure he’d be able to master the change before the war came to their doorstep.
LANAE WAS GIDDY AT the partial transformation. The cool night air carried the scent of pine and earth, mingling with a hint of smoke from Draven’s breath. This was the first time in the last three grueling nights he had actually pulled his dragon to the surface. Albeit a partial shift like he had the last time in the throes of war. But a shift all the same.
She launched herself into his scaly arms, the rough texture of his scales cool and firm beneath her fingers. As she pressed kisses on the soft reptilian skin that covered his face, warmth radiated from him.
He jerked away, his eyes wary, the sharp lines of his newly transformed features catching the moonlight.
“Stop being self-conscious. You’re a gorgeous beast,” she whispered, her breath mingling with his. She kissed him again, this time on the lips. The sharp teeth that lined his mouth grazed her own.
He shuttered his eyes, a low rumble escaping his throat, and the subtle shift of his scales burrowing back under his skin sent tremors down her spine. When his lids opened again, Draven’s bright-green irises gazed down at her with an intensity that made her heart race. He returned the kiss, his lips warm and inviting, igniting the familiar warmth in her belly.
“Come on, guys.”
Caelum’s sharp voice washed his disdain over her, reminding them of their surroundings. Lanae reluctantly pulled away, her eyes still locked with Draven’s. The training grounds, once filled with the echoes of their laughter, now appeared charged with their sexual tension. The air seemed to hum with anticipation, the shadows deepening as the night wore on.
Draven’s breath came in short bursts, and his eyes searched hers, reflecting the turmoil hiding under the guise of lust.
She peeled herself out of his arms. “We need to keep going,” Lanae said. “You were so close, Draven. I know you can do this.”
Draven nodded, determination flaring in his eyes. He glanced at Caelum, who stood with arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “All right, let’s try again.”
This time, the scales came out in seconds, not minutes or hours like before. Her heart leaped inside her rib cage, and she stepped back, giving him room to explore the new form that seemed to stretch the space enclosing his body. She wondered what he would look like as a full-grown dragon. Would all his scales be the same color, or would they differ?
A sudden gust of wind swept through the training grounds, carrying the scent of something foreign and dangerous, like the crackling of the ozone itself.
Draven’s eyes flew open, and his scales retreated. His gaze scanned the surrounding area.
“Did you feel that?” Lanae asked.
Before Draven could respond, a low growl rumbled from the shadows. The night seemed to hold its breath. The once comforting sounds of the forest were now eerily silent.
“Something’s coming,” Caelum said.
The three of them stood tense and ready, the training grounds now a stage for an impending confrontation. Lanae’s heart pounded in her chest, her body humming with the power of the full moon overhead. Whatever lurked in the darkness, it was about to force their hands in ways they hadn’t anticipated.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sacrificial Love
A PLUME OF BLACK smoke coiled menacingly above the city, a familiar and ominous signal that sent an icy shiver down Draven’s spine. Alestain’s dark magic. The acrid scent of burning filled the air, stinging Draven’s nose as the significance hit him like a tidal wave. His head snapped toward Caelum, eyes wide with urgency. He had no time left to master his shift.
A piercing caw sliced through the tense atmosphere, drawing their gaze skyward. Nero, the griffin, plummeted toward them with eyes blazing like molten gold, mirroring the frantic turmoil within Draven. The surrounding air crackled with the griffin’s raw, untamed energy.
“At least he came at a full moon,” Lanae remarked, her voice carrying a forced nonchalance that scarcely masked her own anxiety.
Draven let out a bitter huff, his breath visible in the chilly night air. “All fae seem to be strongest at the full moon.” His eyes, sharp as a blade’s edge, locked onto hers. “Including Alestain.”
Lanae’s confident demeanor crumbled, her expression shifting to one of dawning dread. Her smug features fell into an unmistakable look of “oh shit.” She and Caelum might be stronger tonight, but so were all the fae forces under Alestain’s sinister command.
“We need our weapons.” Lanae spun to Draven, her voice tight with urgency.
The speedy clip of Draven’s heart thundered in his ears as he realized their weapons were across the city, back at their home. The thought of leaving the safety of their position to retrieve them filled him with a sense of dread. He grabbed Lanae’s hand, needing her heat to fight against the cold rippling through the air. “Hold on to Nero,” he instructed, waving Caelum closer.
He closed his eyes and whispered the draconian portal spell, the ancient words rolling off his tongue like molten lava. The air shimmered and rippled, a gust of wind whipping through their hair. The portal opened with a crackle of energy, revealing the familiar sight of their home, the weapons gleaming on the walls like silent sentinels.
They stepped through the portal, the sensation of being pulled through space disorienting but fleeting. The familiar scent of their home greeted them, a mixture of wood smoke and herbs that calmed Draven’s racing heart for a moment. They quickly grabbed their weapons, the cool weight of the steel providing a sense of reassurance and readiness.
With their swords in hand, they stepped outside into the chaos of the city streets. The acrid stench of smoke was even stronger now, mingling with the iron tang of blood and the earthy undertone of freshly turned soil. Shadows danced along the walls as flames flickered in the distance, casting a hellish glow over the chaos that had taken hold of their home.
The sounds of battle assaulted their ears—clashing swords, the shouts of the mind-controlled fae, and the terrified cries of the citizens. Draven’s chest pounded in sync with the frenzied rhythm of the conflict. He saw the glint of moonlight on armored figures advancing toward them, eyes vacant and glowing with Alestain’s malevolent influence.
“Stay close!” Draven shouted over the racket, his voice a guttural growl that barely reached Lanae and Caelum. The intensity of their determination and fear layered over him as they prepared to face the oncoming wave.
Draven’s sword clashed with the first of Alestain’s warriors, the impact sending a jolt up his arm. He danced through the chaos with a lethal grace, his movements fueled by a fierce determination. The air around him buzzed with the magic of his enemies, each strike a clash of wills and weapons.
Lanae and Caelum fought at his side, their synchronized efforts a testament to their bond and training. Despite the odds, a sliver of hope remained. If they could hold their ground, if Draven could push past his mental barriers and fully embrace his dragon form, they just might stand a chance.
CAELUM FOUGHT WITH THE same sense of dread layering over his mind that plagued his sister. With each strike of swords, accompanied by the empty stare of the attackers, they edged closer to their worst nightmare. Magic crackled in the air from all elemental factions on both sides, an overwhelming symphony of power and chaos.
Lanae and Caelum’s magic surged through the ground beneath their feet, causing the very earth to tremble with their might. With a swift motion, Lanae summoned thick, twisting vines that erupted from the cobblestones, ensnaring the legs of their enemies and dragging them down with a muted, bone-crunching thud. The rich, loamy scent of freshly turned soil and crushed leaves filled the air, a pronounced opposition to the acrid stench of burning and blood.
Caelum’s hands glowed as he called forth jagged spikes of rock from the ground. They shot up with a deep, rumbling growl, impaling the attackers and forming a makeshift barricade. The surrounding ground pulsed in rhythm with their heartbeats and responded to their every command.
Around them, the city was a maelstrom of elemental magic. Fire roared and crackled, its searing heat radiating in waves that singed the vines caging their enemies. The air shimmered with the haze of heat, and the scent of charred wood and sulfur was nearly suffocating. Water magic swirled and danced, droplets hanging in the air like glistening pearls before lashing out in powerful torrents that doused the flames and swept enemies off their feet. The cool, refreshing scent of rain mingled with the harsher stench of battle, offering a momentary reprieve.
Air magic whipped through the streets, carrying whispers of wind that sliced through the combatants with razor-sharp precision. The gusts howled and whistled, lifting debris and scattering it like confetti in a storm. The sharp, metallic tang of ozone filled the air, and static electricity prickled along his skin.
Nero’s lightning crackled and danced overhead, casting eerie, flickering shadows across the battlefield. Bolts of raw energy struck with deadly accuracy, their blinding light followed by the deafening boom of thunder that shook the very ground. The scent of singed air and ionized particles was sharp and tangy, adding to the discord of sensory overload.
Despite the overwhelming odds and the mayhem of magic around them, Caelum and Lanae fought with a synchronized elegance, their earth magic providing a solid foundation amidst the chaos. The ground pulsed with life beneath their feet. With each magical cast and swings of their swords, they chipped away at the enemy forces, driven by a fierce resolve to protect their home and each other.
Caelum swung his sword, the clash of steel ringing in his ears as he deflected the next mindless soldier’s strike. His muscles tensed, readying for the next attack, but he hesitated as he locked eyes with his opponent. Shock flooded his veins, freezing his movements. His father’s face, contorted with malice and void of recognition, stared back at him from beneath the enemy’s helm. The man, once a pillar of strength and kindness, now looked at him with nothing but bitter hatred.
Above them, Nero lit up the sky, sending bolts of lightning that crackled and sizzled through the air. The griffin’s fierce cries echoed like thunder, each bolt striking with unerring precision. Caelum’s father took the brunt of the assault, his body convulsing as black smoke billowed from his nose and mouth, choking him. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground with a hollow clang. When he looked up, his eyes mirrored Caelum’s, filled with a flicker of recognition and despair.
Caelum gasped, the sudden realization piercing his heart like a dagger. It was a moment he had longed for, to see a glimmer of his true father behind the facade of the mindless soldier. But doubt gnawed at him—he couldn’t trust it. Not here, not now.
“Caelum?” His father’s voice, though weak and lilting, tore at his soul. The simple question held a world of pain and longing.
Caelum nodded, his throat tight with emotion.
But the moment of connection was brutally shattered. Movement to his right caught his father’s attention, and with a sudden burst of strength, his father shoved him back. Caelum stumbled, colliding with another warrior. They both turned in time to witness a mindless minion drive a sword into his father’s side. The sickening sound of metal piercing flesh was drowned out by Caelum’s shocked cry.
His father’s sacrifice ignited a storm of fury within him. The blade had been meant for Caelum, and his father had taken the fatal blow without hesitation. Anger surged through Caelum, raw and unyielding. The ground beneath the soldier’s feet rumbled and cracked as Caelum’s earth magic erupted. Rocks and debris shot up in an explosive force, shredding the attacker to pieces in a grisly display of power.
The battlefield seemed to pause for a heartbeat, the air thick with the stench of blood, smoke, and earth. Caelum’s chest throbbed. His father’s sacrifice pressed down on him. But amidst the chaos and pain, a resolve crystallized within him. He would honor his father’s memory by fighting with everything he had, to protect those he loved and to defeat the darkness that threatened to consume them all.
He let a battle cry loose from his lungs—a raw, primal sound that echoed through the chaos of the battlefield. The cry tore through the air, reverberating off the buildings and filling the night with its fierce resonance.
The roar surged from deep within him, carrying a fire from years spent in the background, the frustration and determination igniting a fire in his chest. His voice was a powerful force, mingling with the din of clashing steel and the crackling of elemental magic.
Gone was the younger brother relegated to the shadows—in that moment, he was a warrior in his own right, ready to show the world the true extent of his abilities.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Shattered Unity
THE BATTLE RAGED AROUND Draven, a chaotic symphony of clashing steel, elemental magic, and agonized cries. Frustration surged as he lost sight of Lanae and Caelum in the fray, the press of bodies and the swirl of smoke obscuring them from his view. He couldn’t afford to lose focus now—his enemies were relentless, and Alestain’s dark magic loomed like a shadow over the battlefield.
He had to get to Alestain. Their only hope was to cut down the man who controlled the masses.
Draven’s sword cut through the air, his dragon fire thrumming just beneath the surface. Each strike was precise and powerful, driven by his determination to protect those he loved. He spun around to deflect an incoming blow, only to find himself face-to-face with Alestain.
The dark sorcerer’s eyes gleamed with malevolent satisfaction. “So, you are the last Emberwing,” Alestain sneered, his voice a silken threat. “Ready to see your family again?”
Draven’s grip tightened on his sword. “My family is here in Solstice City.”
Alestain’s laugh was cold and hollow. “Ah, yes. That feisty wife of yours. I would have preferred her head on a pike at the front of my army, but I’ll have to settle for yours.” He raised his hands, and dark tendrils of magic coiled around them, crackling with malevolent energy.
Draven braced himself, his muscles tensing as he prepared to face the full force of Alestain’s power. The very air vibrated with raw energy, and the ground beneath their feet trembled in anticipation. Heat eviscerated his insides as his fire begged to be let loose. But without the knowledge of where Lanae or Caelum were, he wouldn’t resort to flame. He’d just have to use his sword and his wits until he located his family.
A PANG OF ANXIETY rushed through Lanae as she lost sight of Draven and Caelum, the press of bodies and the chaos of battle tearing them apart. The acrid stench of smoke and the metallic tang of blood filled her nostrils, while the clamor of clashing steel and agonized cries echoed in her ears. She pushed forward, her earth magic surging through the ground beneath her feet, causing the earth to tremble in response.
She spun and swung her blade, the clang of metal on metal shuddering up her arm.
Spric’s sharp eyes took her in as he pushed her away, a sneer curling his lips. “Oh look, I finally found the one who got away.” His eyes gleamed with malicious intent. “I’m tempted to give you the same type of beating I received for letting you get away.” He swung his pristine sword in a deadly arc, the blade glinting ominously in the flickering light.
She met his steel and spun out of his reach, her movements fluid and precise. A guttural cry cracked the night, and Caelum’s devastation bloomed in her mind, flipping her panic buttons. She had to find Caelum and Draven—but first, she had to deal with the immediate threat before her.
Lanae’s grip on her sword tightened, her knuckles turning white. “You’re not a killer, Spric. Get out of my way.”
Spric laughed, a harsh, rough sound that grated on her nerves. “Oh, but I am.” He raised his sword, and the space surrounding him crackled with dark energy, a tangible manifestation of his malevolence.
“Your sword doesn’t have a speck of blood on it,” she taunted, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides. She parried his strike, her blade deflecting his with a ringing clash. She stepped in, aiming to take advantage of his momentary imbalance, but his fist shot out with lightning speed.
Before she could dodge, his fist collided with her nose. A fountain of blood flowed out, the sting of it blurring her vision. She coughed, spurting blood from her mouth as she tried to maneuver away from him, but he spun her around and kicked the back of her knee. Pain exploded through her leg; before she hit the ground, his arm clasped around her neck, and he smashed her wrist with the pommel of his sword.
Her weapon clattered to the ground, the sound lost amidst the chaos. Lanae scratched at his arm, her nails digging into his flesh as panic surged through her. The world narrowed to the suffocating pressure on her throat and the desperate need to breathe.
A woman she would have recognized anywhere stepped in front of them, her mother’s eyes sharper than they were the last time Lanae saw her. She held her blade out as if to run her through, her expression a mix of determination and sorrow. Lanae’s brain fogged from the lack of oxygen, her vision tunneling. She sent a silent prayer to the gods that Draven wouldn’t raze the universe when he found her.
CAELUM’S EMOTIONS NUMBED. IF he thought about his father’s sacrifice too long, he would falter. Lanae’s panic seared through him, and he spun, scanning the crowd for her. In the chaos, he glimpsed Jenna instead and that protective need flared.
She fought like a seasoned warrior, and his heart clenched at the sight of her. They all were fighting for their lives and he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He swung his sword, deflecting an attack, but pain exploded in his side as he was struck from behind.
Lanae wiped away tears of laughter. “Small victories, Draven. Small victories.”
The training grounds echoed with their laughter, the evening air carrying the sound into the trees. And even though he hadn’t fully shifted, Draven knew he was making progress. Slowly but surely, he’d get there. But he wasn’t sure he’d be able to master the change before the war came to their doorstep.
LANAE WAS GIDDY AT the partial transformation. The cool night air carried the scent of pine and earth, mingling with a hint of smoke from Draven’s breath. This was the first time in the last three grueling nights he had actually pulled his dragon to the surface. Albeit a partial shift like he had the last time in the throes of war. But a shift all the same.
She launched herself into his scaly arms, the rough texture of his scales cool and firm beneath her fingers. As she pressed kisses on the soft reptilian skin that covered his face, warmth radiated from him.
He jerked away, his eyes wary, the sharp lines of his newly transformed features catching the moonlight.
“Stop being self-conscious. You’re a gorgeous beast,” she whispered, her breath mingling with his. She kissed him again, this time on the lips. The sharp teeth that lined his mouth grazed her own.
He shuttered his eyes, a low rumble escaping his throat, and the subtle shift of his scales burrowing back under his skin sent tremors down her spine. When his lids opened again, Draven’s bright-green irises gazed down at her with an intensity that made her heart race. He returned the kiss, his lips warm and inviting, igniting the familiar warmth in her belly.
“Come on, guys.”
Caelum’s sharp voice washed his disdain over her, reminding them of their surroundings. Lanae reluctantly pulled away, her eyes still locked with Draven’s. The training grounds, once filled with the echoes of their laughter, now appeared charged with their sexual tension. The air seemed to hum with anticipation, the shadows deepening as the night wore on.
Draven’s breath came in short bursts, and his eyes searched hers, reflecting the turmoil hiding under the guise of lust.
She peeled herself out of his arms. “We need to keep going,” Lanae said. “You were so close, Draven. I know you can do this.”
Draven nodded, determination flaring in his eyes. He glanced at Caelum, who stood with arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “All right, let’s try again.”
This time, the scales came out in seconds, not minutes or hours like before. Her heart leaped inside her rib cage, and she stepped back, giving him room to explore the new form that seemed to stretch the space enclosing his body. She wondered what he would look like as a full-grown dragon. Would all his scales be the same color, or would they differ?
A sudden gust of wind swept through the training grounds, carrying the scent of something foreign and dangerous, like the crackling of the ozone itself.
Draven’s eyes flew open, and his scales retreated. His gaze scanned the surrounding area.
“Did you feel that?” Lanae asked.
Before Draven could respond, a low growl rumbled from the shadows. The night seemed to hold its breath. The once comforting sounds of the forest were now eerily silent.
“Something’s coming,” Caelum said.
The three of them stood tense and ready, the training grounds now a stage for an impending confrontation. Lanae’s heart pounded in her chest, her body humming with the power of the full moon overhead. Whatever lurked in the darkness, it was about to force their hands in ways they hadn’t anticipated.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sacrificial Love
A PLUME OF BLACK smoke coiled menacingly above the city, a familiar and ominous signal that sent an icy shiver down Draven’s spine. Alestain’s dark magic. The acrid scent of burning filled the air, stinging Draven’s nose as the significance hit him like a tidal wave. His head snapped toward Caelum, eyes wide with urgency. He had no time left to master his shift.
A piercing caw sliced through the tense atmosphere, drawing their gaze skyward. Nero, the griffin, plummeted toward them with eyes blazing like molten gold, mirroring the frantic turmoil within Draven. The surrounding air crackled with the griffin’s raw, untamed energy.
“At least he came at a full moon,” Lanae remarked, her voice carrying a forced nonchalance that scarcely masked her own anxiety.
Draven let out a bitter huff, his breath visible in the chilly night air. “All fae seem to be strongest at the full moon.” His eyes, sharp as a blade’s edge, locked onto hers. “Including Alestain.”
Lanae’s confident demeanor crumbled, her expression shifting to one of dawning dread. Her smug features fell into an unmistakable look of “oh shit.” She and Caelum might be stronger tonight, but so were all the fae forces under Alestain’s sinister command.
“We need our weapons.” Lanae spun to Draven, her voice tight with urgency.
The speedy clip of Draven’s heart thundered in his ears as he realized their weapons were across the city, back at their home. The thought of leaving the safety of their position to retrieve them filled him with a sense of dread. He grabbed Lanae’s hand, needing her heat to fight against the cold rippling through the air. “Hold on to Nero,” he instructed, waving Caelum closer.
He closed his eyes and whispered the draconian portal spell, the ancient words rolling off his tongue like molten lava. The air shimmered and rippled, a gust of wind whipping through their hair. The portal opened with a crackle of energy, revealing the familiar sight of their home, the weapons gleaming on the walls like silent sentinels.
They stepped through the portal, the sensation of being pulled through space disorienting but fleeting. The familiar scent of their home greeted them, a mixture of wood smoke and herbs that calmed Draven’s racing heart for a moment. They quickly grabbed their weapons, the cool weight of the steel providing a sense of reassurance and readiness.
With their swords in hand, they stepped outside into the chaos of the city streets. The acrid stench of smoke was even stronger now, mingling with the iron tang of blood and the earthy undertone of freshly turned soil. Shadows danced along the walls as flames flickered in the distance, casting a hellish glow over the chaos that had taken hold of their home.
The sounds of battle assaulted their ears—clashing swords, the shouts of the mind-controlled fae, and the terrified cries of the citizens. Draven’s chest pounded in sync with the frenzied rhythm of the conflict. He saw the glint of moonlight on armored figures advancing toward them, eyes vacant and glowing with Alestain’s malevolent influence.
“Stay close!” Draven shouted over the racket, his voice a guttural growl that barely reached Lanae and Caelum. The intensity of their determination and fear layered over him as they prepared to face the oncoming wave.
Draven’s sword clashed with the first of Alestain’s warriors, the impact sending a jolt up his arm. He danced through the chaos with a lethal grace, his movements fueled by a fierce determination. The air around him buzzed with the magic of his enemies, each strike a clash of wills and weapons.
Lanae and Caelum fought at his side, their synchronized efforts a testament to their bond and training. Despite the odds, a sliver of hope remained. If they could hold their ground, if Draven could push past his mental barriers and fully embrace his dragon form, they just might stand a chance.
CAELUM FOUGHT WITH THE same sense of dread layering over his mind that plagued his sister. With each strike of swords, accompanied by the empty stare of the attackers, they edged closer to their worst nightmare. Magic crackled in the air from all elemental factions on both sides, an overwhelming symphony of power and chaos.
Lanae and Caelum’s magic surged through the ground beneath their feet, causing the very earth to tremble with their might. With a swift motion, Lanae summoned thick, twisting vines that erupted from the cobblestones, ensnaring the legs of their enemies and dragging them down with a muted, bone-crunching thud. The rich, loamy scent of freshly turned soil and crushed leaves filled the air, a pronounced opposition to the acrid stench of burning and blood.
Caelum’s hands glowed as he called forth jagged spikes of rock from the ground. They shot up with a deep, rumbling growl, impaling the attackers and forming a makeshift barricade. The surrounding ground pulsed in rhythm with their heartbeats and responded to their every command.
Around them, the city was a maelstrom of elemental magic. Fire roared and crackled, its searing heat radiating in waves that singed the vines caging their enemies. The air shimmered with the haze of heat, and the scent of charred wood and sulfur was nearly suffocating. Water magic swirled and danced, droplets hanging in the air like glistening pearls before lashing out in powerful torrents that doused the flames and swept enemies off their feet. The cool, refreshing scent of rain mingled with the harsher stench of battle, offering a momentary reprieve.
Air magic whipped through the streets, carrying whispers of wind that sliced through the combatants with razor-sharp precision. The gusts howled and whistled, lifting debris and scattering it like confetti in a storm. The sharp, metallic tang of ozone filled the air, and static electricity prickled along his skin.
Nero’s lightning crackled and danced overhead, casting eerie, flickering shadows across the battlefield. Bolts of raw energy struck with deadly accuracy, their blinding light followed by the deafening boom of thunder that shook the very ground. The scent of singed air and ionized particles was sharp and tangy, adding to the discord of sensory overload.
Despite the overwhelming odds and the mayhem of magic around them, Caelum and Lanae fought with a synchronized elegance, their earth magic providing a solid foundation amidst the chaos. The ground pulsed with life beneath their feet. With each magical cast and swings of their swords, they chipped away at the enemy forces, driven by a fierce resolve to protect their home and each other.
Caelum swung his sword, the clash of steel ringing in his ears as he deflected the next mindless soldier’s strike. His muscles tensed, readying for the next attack, but he hesitated as he locked eyes with his opponent. Shock flooded his veins, freezing his movements. His father’s face, contorted with malice and void of recognition, stared back at him from beneath the enemy’s helm. The man, once a pillar of strength and kindness, now looked at him with nothing but bitter hatred.
Above them, Nero lit up the sky, sending bolts of lightning that crackled and sizzled through the air. The griffin’s fierce cries echoed like thunder, each bolt striking with unerring precision. Caelum’s father took the brunt of the assault, his body convulsing as black smoke billowed from his nose and mouth, choking him. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground with a hollow clang. When he looked up, his eyes mirrored Caelum’s, filled with a flicker of recognition and despair.
Caelum gasped, the sudden realization piercing his heart like a dagger. It was a moment he had longed for, to see a glimmer of his true father behind the facade of the mindless soldier. But doubt gnawed at him—he couldn’t trust it. Not here, not now.
“Caelum?” His father’s voice, though weak and lilting, tore at his soul. The simple question held a world of pain and longing.
Caelum nodded, his throat tight with emotion.
But the moment of connection was brutally shattered. Movement to his right caught his father’s attention, and with a sudden burst of strength, his father shoved him back. Caelum stumbled, colliding with another warrior. They both turned in time to witness a mindless minion drive a sword into his father’s side. The sickening sound of metal piercing flesh was drowned out by Caelum’s shocked cry.
His father’s sacrifice ignited a storm of fury within him. The blade had been meant for Caelum, and his father had taken the fatal blow without hesitation. Anger surged through Caelum, raw and unyielding. The ground beneath the soldier’s feet rumbled and cracked as Caelum’s earth magic erupted. Rocks and debris shot up in an explosive force, shredding the attacker to pieces in a grisly display of power.
The battlefield seemed to pause for a heartbeat, the air thick with the stench of blood, smoke, and earth. Caelum’s chest throbbed. His father’s sacrifice pressed down on him. But amidst the chaos and pain, a resolve crystallized within him. He would honor his father’s memory by fighting with everything he had, to protect those he loved and to defeat the darkness that threatened to consume them all.
He let a battle cry loose from his lungs—a raw, primal sound that echoed through the chaos of the battlefield. The cry tore through the air, reverberating off the buildings and filling the night with its fierce resonance.
The roar surged from deep within him, carrying a fire from years spent in the background, the frustration and determination igniting a fire in his chest. His voice was a powerful force, mingling with the din of clashing steel and the crackling of elemental magic.
Gone was the younger brother relegated to the shadows—in that moment, he was a warrior in his own right, ready to show the world the true extent of his abilities.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Shattered Unity
THE BATTLE RAGED AROUND Draven, a chaotic symphony of clashing steel, elemental magic, and agonized cries. Frustration surged as he lost sight of Lanae and Caelum in the fray, the press of bodies and the swirl of smoke obscuring them from his view. He couldn’t afford to lose focus now—his enemies were relentless, and Alestain’s dark magic loomed like a shadow over the battlefield.
He had to get to Alestain. Their only hope was to cut down the man who controlled the masses.
Draven’s sword cut through the air, his dragon fire thrumming just beneath the surface. Each strike was precise and powerful, driven by his determination to protect those he loved. He spun around to deflect an incoming blow, only to find himself face-to-face with Alestain.
The dark sorcerer’s eyes gleamed with malevolent satisfaction. “So, you are the last Emberwing,” Alestain sneered, his voice a silken threat. “Ready to see your family again?”
Draven’s grip tightened on his sword. “My family is here in Solstice City.”
Alestain’s laugh was cold and hollow. “Ah, yes. That feisty wife of yours. I would have preferred her head on a pike at the front of my army, but I’ll have to settle for yours.” He raised his hands, and dark tendrils of magic coiled around them, crackling with malevolent energy.
Draven braced himself, his muscles tensing as he prepared to face the full force of Alestain’s power. The very air vibrated with raw energy, and the ground beneath their feet trembled in anticipation. Heat eviscerated his insides as his fire begged to be let loose. But without the knowledge of where Lanae or Caelum were, he wouldn’t resort to flame. He’d just have to use his sword and his wits until he located his family.
A PANG OF ANXIETY rushed through Lanae as she lost sight of Draven and Caelum, the press of bodies and the chaos of battle tearing them apart. The acrid stench of smoke and the metallic tang of blood filled her nostrils, while the clamor of clashing steel and agonized cries echoed in her ears. She pushed forward, her earth magic surging through the ground beneath her feet, causing the earth to tremble in response.
She spun and swung her blade, the clang of metal on metal shuddering up her arm.
Spric’s sharp eyes took her in as he pushed her away, a sneer curling his lips. “Oh look, I finally found the one who got away.” His eyes gleamed with malicious intent. “I’m tempted to give you the same type of beating I received for letting you get away.” He swung his pristine sword in a deadly arc, the blade glinting ominously in the flickering light.
She met his steel and spun out of his reach, her movements fluid and precise. A guttural cry cracked the night, and Caelum’s devastation bloomed in her mind, flipping her panic buttons. She had to find Caelum and Draven—but first, she had to deal with the immediate threat before her.
Lanae’s grip on her sword tightened, her knuckles turning white. “You’re not a killer, Spric. Get out of my way.”
Spric laughed, a harsh, rough sound that grated on her nerves. “Oh, but I am.” He raised his sword, and the space surrounding him crackled with dark energy, a tangible manifestation of his malevolence.
“Your sword doesn’t have a speck of blood on it,” she taunted, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides. She parried his strike, her blade deflecting his with a ringing clash. She stepped in, aiming to take advantage of his momentary imbalance, but his fist shot out with lightning speed.
Before she could dodge, his fist collided with her nose. A fountain of blood flowed out, the sting of it blurring her vision. She coughed, spurting blood from her mouth as she tried to maneuver away from him, but he spun her around and kicked the back of her knee. Pain exploded through her leg; before she hit the ground, his arm clasped around her neck, and he smashed her wrist with the pommel of his sword.
Her weapon clattered to the ground, the sound lost amidst the chaos. Lanae scratched at his arm, her nails digging into his flesh as panic surged through her. The world narrowed to the suffocating pressure on her throat and the desperate need to breathe.
A woman she would have recognized anywhere stepped in front of them, her mother’s eyes sharper than they were the last time Lanae saw her. She held her blade out as if to run her through, her expression a mix of determination and sorrow. Lanae’s brain fogged from the lack of oxygen, her vision tunneling. She sent a silent prayer to the gods that Draven wouldn’t raze the universe when he found her.
CAELUM’S EMOTIONS NUMBED. IF he thought about his father’s sacrifice too long, he would falter. Lanae’s panic seared through him, and he spun, scanning the crowd for her. In the chaos, he glimpsed Jenna instead and that protective need flared.
She fought like a seasoned warrior, and his heart clenched at the sight of her. They all were fighting for their lives and he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He swung his sword, deflecting an attack, but pain exploded in his side as he was struck from behind.
