Elyria’s vision went hazy.
And everything else faded into the background as her heart plummeted into the molten fire with him.
Elyria’s mindblanked as she stared at the spot where Cedric had sunk beneath the flames. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Not after everything they’d been through, not after what he’d just done to help them—helpher—survive.
Not after she just got him back.
Darkness bloomed from that spot inside her chest, shadows misting over her skin, swirling in her hands. They threatened to spill over, to cover the obsidian ground, to cause another burst of power that would obliterate everything—the writhing wyrm, the bridge. Herself.
Time slowed, froze.
“Ellie!” Kit’s cry snapped Elyria back to the present. Her shadows dissipated. On the shore, Nox had their arms wrapped around Kit as she thrashed and kicked against their hold. “Let me go! I won’t leave her!”
Grief washed over Elyria as she nodded at the nocterrian, a silent command. Kit was always the priority. Nox would see her through the gate. Hopefully, along with Thraigg and Zephyr, they would see her through to the end.
Just as Elyria thought it, the nocterrian stepped into a shadow, reemerging by the gate and walking through with Kit, even as she continued flailing against their hold.
Elyria was alone.
No, not alone.
A flash of red drew Elyria’s eyes to where Gael still knelt on the edge of the shore. Nox hadn’t gotten her out yet.
Elyria swallowed hard, her limbs heavy with exhaustion, her heart pounding a desperate drumbeat in her ears. Or was that the sound of it breaking?
Gael’s body was unnaturally still as she stared into the fiery lake, eyes tracking between the wyrm—still jerking in pain—and the spot where it had taken Cyren. Her single wing fluttered weakly behind her, and the expression on her face...
Elyria’s heart clenched.
She knew that look.
“Gael, you need to move!” Elyria called, careening down the rest ofthe obsidian walkway to get to the fae. Panic gripped her as the wyrm finally regained its faculties, pulling back, preparing once more to strike. Elyria’s eyes widened as she took in the steaming blood dripping from a deep, grotesque gash that had opened up on its neck, a souvenir from the explosion of her power.
Gael showed no sign of acknowledgment. She didn’t respond to Elyria’s shouts. She was lost in her grief.
Her madness.
A defiant roar rent the air, swallowing Elyria’s warnings.
Three heads hissed, three heads bowed, and three sets of wide-open jaws lunged for Gael.
But she was faster.
It was so sudden, so unexpected, that it took several moments for Elyria to understand what was happening. One second, Gael was standing still, lost in her own mind. The next, she was charging into the fiery lake, barreling toward the wyrm, her face twisted in a mask of rage.
“Gael, no!” Elyria screamed, but it did nothing.
Gael’s power ignited with terrifying force, flames licking up her arms as she threw herself at the beast with feral rage. Her movements were frantic, erratic, as if she were nothing more than a conduit for the raw, uncontrolled power burning inside her.
The wyrm snarled, its heads snapping at Gael, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t flinch, only dodged the heads with blinding speed, flames erupting from her hands. She hurled balls of fire at the creature. They bounced harmlessly off its scales, and Elyria’s heart fell. Of course they did. It was a fyre wyrm, and Gael was a flamecaller.
She wasn’t letting that stop her, though. Gael was nothing but a frenzied hail of fire and fury as she continued hurling wave after wave of power at the wyrm. A one-winged angel come straight from the fourth quarter of hell.
Miraculously, it started to work.
The wyrm recoiled from the flames, hissing in pain as Gael’s fire worked its way past its scales to strike the exposed, bleeding flesh Elyria had unearthed. It wasn’t enough. The creature’s torso rose from the lake, towering above Gael as if ready to crush her with its massive body.
And still, she didn’t stop.
