She leapt, flames surging around her, and threw herself onto the wyrm. Elyria watched in horrified awe as the flamecaller latched onto its neck and thrust her hands into the gaping wound at its throat.
Gael’s eyes locked with Elyria’s for a fleeting moment.
And then she was nothing but a living flame—every inch of her, from her long, cascading hair to the tip of her remaining wing, was on fire. And she channeled that fire directlyintothe wyrm, letting it coat the great beast’s organs, setting its blood alight. The scent of burning flesh singed Elyria’s nostrils as Gael charred its insides.
Elyria had never before heard a sound like the one the wyrm released in triplicate as its massive body convulsed, each head thrashing, then buckling, as it was consumed from within.
Gael was quiet. She made no sound as her face contorted with rage, with pain, with grief. She was utterly silent as her remaining wing withered, as her skin turned black, cracking and splitting. Still, she pushed deeper, her fire growing brighter, burning hotter.
With one final roar, the wyrm fell.
And Elyria’s heart shattered as Gael collapsed atop it, flames still sputtering from her body while both she and the great beast were reduced to ash.
Elyria stood frozen, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her mind struggling to process what she just witnessed. She thought maybe she should be screaming, crying, lashing out at the unfairness of it all—but she didn’t. Couldn’t. She was numb. Hollow. Alone.
It was over.
Gael was gone.
Cyren was gone.
Cedric was . . .
She dropped to her knees, her body collapsing under the weight of that loss.
She couldn’t say it.
Couldn’t even think it.
It was too much.
And that was when she saw it—movement, out of the corner of her eye. A figure crawling out from the flames.
Her heart stopped.
It couldn’t be.
Her breath caught in her throat as Cedric emerged from the fire, body smoking, armor blackened.
Illogical. Impossible. Inconceivable.
But it was him.
He was alive.
Cedric dragged himself onto the shore, the smoldering remnants of his clothing still glowing with heat as he rose—first to his knees, then to his feet. His face was pinned in a silent expression of shock.
Staggering forward, his eyes blazed with something other than fire as he lifted his head and locked eyes with Elyria.
She moved toward him, finally crossing onto the shore, her feet surprisingly steady.
He opened his mouth, drew in a shaky breath as if he was going to speak.
She reached for him.
And he collapsed in her arms.
38
