Page 53 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

Several other black dragons were caught in the trailing edge of my storm, their screams cutting through the clash of battle. Some bucked midair, others faltered in their wingbeats, scales beginning to smoke just like the first one. Then, a sound split the air—a high, piercing shrill that turned my stomach.

I’d heard it before. The last time Severeth had recalled her forces.

Every black dragon in the sky reacted instantly, banking hard in unison and wheeling toward the north. They didn’t scatter. They moved as one, into a churning wall of dark cloud that hadn’t been there moments ago. It swelled like a living thing, boiling outward to swallow the horizon, and I knew without a doubt Severeth had crafted it.

“Is she retreating?” Riven called, her voice carrying disbelief.

“I would if I was her,” Cordelle answered grimly. “Whatever that Light Storm spell does, it’s lethal to the black dragons.”

Their words cut deep because a part of me, one that still clung to the memory of hatchlings and the bond I shared with Kaelith, felt like I should be trying to save those creatures. They hadn’t chosen this. They’d been stolen before their first flight, warped by dark magic and forced into servitude.

But war didn’t care about what should be.

As the last of my light reached the cloud bank, it flared against the swirling darkness like a comet hitting stone, trying to pierce its way in. The shadows shuddered, the magic within them fighting mine, and for an instant the whole sky was caught between light and dark. Then the blackness folded in on itself, swallowing my magic whole.

They were gone.

And I knew—saving them wasn’t an option. Not here. Not now. Not in war.

The cloud bank churned as it receded, pulling back toward the horizon like a living shadow slinking away to regroup.

“Severeth is retreating,” Riven said, her voice tinged with unease. “But that won’t stop the army. We have to find a way to stall those forces. There aren’t enough members in First Guild to fight an army that size.”

Her words barely registered because my gaze had already shifted to Kaelith and Hein. They stood side by side, unnervingly still, their wings tucked tight. Hein’s massive head hung low, angled toward the ground as if his entire focus was fixed on something at his feet.

I followed his line of sight for half a heartbeat before my attention snapped back to the retreating cloud. First things first, I told myself, gripping the edge of my thoughts like a lifeline. With Severeth gone, our bonds should return. Hopefully, she’ll think twice before attempting that spell again.

Riven scanned the battered field. “Where is Zander?”

The question hit me like a punch to the gut. My eyes darted to Hein again—this time not at his bowed head, but at the spot where my mate should have been. My stomach turned to stone.

The blast. I hadn’t seen him get up after the magic unfurled.

I’d been so fixated on the cloud, on what my Light Storm could do, on what it had done, that I hadn’t thought about the cost Zander paid to give me the power for it. The price I’d pulled from him without hesitation.

A cold, hollow fear surged through me.

I sprinted toward Hein, my boots tearing up dirt, heart hammering so hard it drowned out the shouts around me.

Kaelith and Hein stood so still they might have been carved from stone, their great eyes tracking me as I ran. The ground seemed to tilt beneath my feet, every step heavier, my lungs pulling in air that refused to fill them.

They didn’t move, not a shift of wing or twitch of tail, as if they were holding their breath with me.

I skidded to a stop, dirt spraying under my boots, and the world narrowed to the figure lying at Hein’s feet.

Zander.

He was sprawled on his back, his armor darkened by dust and ash, his face pale, ashen in a way that felt wrong for him, the man who always seemed to burn brighter than the rest of us. His chest rose barely, but there was no spark in him. No strength.

I dropped to my knees so fast my palms stung against the packed earth.

“Zander.” My voice cracked as I leaned over him. “Zander, look at me.”

Nothing. No flicker in those storm-colored eyes. No movement beyond that shallow, fragile breath.

I reached for him through our private bond, desperate for the brush of his presence, the solid, grounding weight of him in my mind.

What came back was nothing.