Page 14 of The Reckoning of Starlight

“This druid power,” Ayla said, ignoring him. “His fire. Your lightning. How did you claim the dragon’s magic?”

Serenna dragged air through her nose and her stomach heaved on the bitter proof of what she’d done.

Through the haze of his smoking armor, she met Fenn’s eyes. Crimson burned, steady despite the pain. He shook his head, sweat tracing clean tracks through the arena sand on his brow.

Serenna’s knees trembled. The Starshard held her upright by force, arranging bone and muscle into obedience while her voice gathered behind her teeth and died there, strangled between the sight of his split leathers, the scorched skin beneath, and the answers she could never give.

Ayla sighed, her control sliding through Serenna’s limbs like ice poured down to the marrow. “How touching. Let’s try again.”

“Please,” Serenna gasped. “Don’t—”

A sob broke loose as lightning flooded her fingertips, crawling hot against her nails. He wouldn’t survive this unscaled, with only shredded armor between his flesh and the next strike.

Serenna fought for an inch of defiance—a turn of her wrist, a broken angle, anything. The Starshard clamped down harder.

Lightning tore loose, lashing across the tunnel in a burst that slammed into Fenn.

He dropped to one knee before the last sparks dissipated, talons scraping furrows into the stone. Smoke spilled through the scorched seams of his armor, thick enough to veil his cell. Under his leathers, blistered channels wept black blood, pale scars branching where the lightning had carved.

Ayla’s fingers drummed against Serenna’s Starshard. “How did you claim your power?”

Serenna swallowed. Her mouth opened, but nothing came.

“Don’t,” Fenn growled.

She met his eyes, seeing the command that lived there—and with it forgiveness, already waiting if her magic struck again.

But she couldn’t keep hurting him. Words cracked loose before Serenna could stop them.

“The dragons—”

“Say another word,” Fenn rasped, voice flayed raw as his skin, “and they die.”

Smoke still curled from his armor. Each breath dragged a tremor through his wings, but his eyes stayed locked on hers, crimson and unyielding.

Ayla’s boots whispered over stone as she glided closer. “Tell me,” she said, fingers hovering above Serenna’s Starshard. “Or I’ll make your lightning scour him down to bone.”

Serenna’s knees buckled.

The Starshard seized her before she could fall, locking her spine straight, forcing trembling muscles to hold her upright.

Fenn watched her through the smoke, still silent though Ayla had already made him bleed for it.

Another strike might kill him.

Serenna’s mind sifted through their secrets, searching for the smallest truth Ayla might mistake for surrender. Her sister already knew they possessed the dragons’ magic, but assumed that their power had been taken by force.

“The dragons gifted us their elements,” Serenna said in a rush. “Cinderax, the Emberhart Warden, imbued Fenn with flame. Skylash, the Stormstrike Warden, granted me lightning.”

Ayla hummed. “And how did you make them yield? The dragons we possess are beasts.”

Dragons—more than one.

Serenna’s pulse stumbled.

Rimeclaw, she knew. The other had only been rumor, carried through Lykor from the Tidecrasher himself. If Veyrix still lay trapped in the Aetherveil, then Galaeryn’s second dragon could only be the Bramblemaw.

“Dragons aren’t beasts,” Serenna hissed. “Your king lacks the scalebound gift. He can chain their bodies, but he can’t hear their voices.” Her fingers curled at her sides. “Their power is given freely. Or not at all.”