“That look can’t be good,” Keir says as he watches the other two gold dragonesses attacking Raven as she flies. They’re clawing at her wings, her sides, her face—drawing blood that steams in the cold air.

Raven reaches out with her other hand and grabs the second female with casual ease, leaving only one circling her like an overgrown gnat desperately trying to free her companions.

“It’s not her anymore—her dragoness is in complete control,” I say low enough for only my nest mates to hear, my voice tight with fear.

“What do we do?” Hemlocke asks, his magenta eyes wide with the same terror I’m feeling.

“Finlay and I will follow her. You two guard the egg,” I order, falling into combat leadership automatically.

Just as Finlay and I move toward the flight field, we hear the distinctive hiss of Raven’s breath weapon activating. She bathes the third dragoness in acid—that viscous green liquid pouring from her throat like a waterfall. The other dragon dissolves, literally melting in mid-air, reduced to steaming goo in a matter of seconds. The corpse doesn’t even look like it was a dragon anymore before it hits the ground in a spreading puddle of organic matter.

We take off running without a second thought, shifting mid-stride. Our priority is singular: get Raven away from the populated areas to reduce the death toll when she finishes with her current victims.

Over my shoulder, I can see Thauglor and Klauth launching into the air to follow us—their massive forms blotting out sections of the sky. It’s got to be worse than I initially thought if those two ancient dragons are joining this pursuit. The fact that even they look concerned makes my stomach drop with dread.