The elven king’s jaw clenched, but for a moment, doubt flickered in his expression. Still, the tension thickened, feeling like a single spark could ignite the entire room.
A ball of flame erupted in Draevyn’s hand as he decided to be that godsdamn spark.
The throne room doors exploded inward with a deafening crash, the iron hinges screaming as wood splintered and slammed against the walls.
Draevyn’s heart halted in his chest as he saw who was now flooding into Sumnae’s throne room. Maerinyswarriors rushed through the opening, their spears and scale-like armor glinting under the moonlight shining through the ceiling’s glass.
Every head in the room turned toward the invaders. Guards of both Sumnae and Lephyrin funneled in with them, swinging their swords wildly at the creatures of the deep. The elven king stiffened, and then Atlas’s shadows erupted around him like living smoke. Even Draevyn’s breath caught as his hand drifted toward his blade.
“I told you it wasn’t us!” Atlas boomed at Keryth.
“It’s Maerinys,” Draevyn breathed.
Confusion rippled through the gathered kings and their guards alike. Draevynneverwould’ve expected this. Not here, anyway. And he was likely the only person who knew why they were here.
Esmyra. His gaze flickered toward the door she’d been dragged out of.
And then, stepping through the chaos that continued to pour through, Azarian appeared, lifting his enormous spear in Draevyn’s direction. “I knew we should’ve killed you that day beneath the sea.” His face wore a look of fury. “You’ve got something of ours. And we’ve come to take her back.”
Hot rage surged through Draevyn. He took a step forward, and then another. Before he knew it, he was rushing toward Azarian head on, drawing his sword as flames licked up the blade. “Over my dead fucking body.”
Azarian grinned. “That can be arranged.”
When their weapons clashed, the impact sent a shockwave through the room.
Draevyn struck again, blade swinging in arcs of searing light. Each strike was met with a precise counter, the spear catching and redirecting the blows. The heat scorched the marble beneath them, leaving black streaks wherever he stepped.
“You think you can hide her from us?” Azarian growled as he forced Draevyn back with a sweeping strike.
“I’ll die before I let you take her,” he spat, driving his flaming blade forward that sent a wave of heat rippling across theroom.
“Once again, Phoenix, ask and you shall receive.” Azarian countered with a brutal attack of his own.
Chaos erupted in every corner of the throne room. Maerinys warriors screamed as shadows lashed out from Atlas, impaling and dragging soldiers into pools of darkness that swallowed them whole. His eyes burned like smoldering coals as each flick of his hand sent tendrils of black energy to snap necks or rip weapons away.
On the opposite side, Keryth stood with his hands raised, fingers curling like talons as he seized the minds of their attackers. One by one, sea warriors froze, clutching their heads, eyes wide with terror. Draevyn could only assume the elven king was ripping through their minds. Keryth’s smile was cold, the veins in his temples bulging with the strain of his magic as he cast it on numerous soldiers.
Amidst the madness, Azarian’s spear spun, clashing against Draevyn’s sword with a shower of sparks. Each strike was a test of their strength and will, making it clear neither of them were willing to let Esmyra go.
Draevyn would never let his Wildfire go again. He didn’t care how long it took for her to trust him again, if she ever would. The Phoenix would wait for his siren because she was worth it—she washis.
Azarian had come to take her away, to do only the gods knew what with her. One thing was certain, and that was thatsomethinghad scared her. Something had made her flee Maerinys and believe Draevyn. And he would never let thesetruemonsters of the world near her again.
Draevyn’s fury burned raw and aggressive. Every time his blade met the spear, his flames flared brighter, licking up toward the vaulted ceiling as the heat intensified, forcing nearby soldiers to shield their faces.
But no matter how ferociously he fought in her honor, Azarian wouldn’t fucking burn. He always assumed the male was something else, that the eeriness his presence brought meant some kind of creature lingered within his flesh. And this was Draevyn’s confirmation.
Anyone else would’ve melted or burned beneath the Phoenix’s power.
Around them, the battle surged. Warriors hurled their spears, skewering elven soldiers who fell screaming. In retaliation, elves released volleys of arrows, piercing through the Maerinysean armor. Blood pooled on the floor, staining it red as bodies fell where they stood.
With a roar that tore from his throat, flames surged up Draevyn’s arms and consumed his sword entirely, blazing white-hot. He launched himself forward, and the spear met his sword in a series of deafening clashes. There was no denying Azarian being a skilled warrior, the way he spun his weapon with deadly grace.
A final, brutal swing collided with the spear’s shaft, and the force sent Azarian hurtling backward, flying through the room. He crashed into the wall with a sickening thud, stone cracking under the impact. Smoke curled from his armor as he slumped down to the ground, stunned.
Draevyn didn’t waste a second as he turned and sprinted across the room toward Atlas, flames swirling up his arms as he cut down anyone in his path. His brother was locked in battle, tearing through enemy soldiers mercilessly, but he was surrounded.
Without words, the two brothers fell into rhythm, shadow and fire weaving together in a deadly dance, cutting down their attackers side by side.
