Page 37 of The Reckoning of Starlight

He stood beyond the edge of those gathered around her ring, chest still heaving, the claws at his wing tips clenching and unclenching. Fury burned cold in his eyes, the same fury she’d seen at Lykor’s fortress when the reavers had cornered her.

Taryn caught Serenna looking. “Seems he ran out of fire,” she said, flipping Fenn’s Starshard through her fingers before tucking it back into her armor.

Ran out of fire. Or Taryn smothered his power, so someone Ayla had already chosen could bring him down and claim the reward.

Serenna backed away as Taryn circled, every motion costing more than the last. Her legs trembled, each step dragging. This was Taryn’s victory, staged before the crowd. All that remained was to bring Serenna down.

Lightning sparked to life in Serenna’s palms, thin and erratic, the last of her storm fraying between her fingertips.

“Kneel,” Taryn murmured, pitched for Serenna alone. “Or I’ll put you there myself.”

Serenna planted her feet.

Taryn’s smirk sharpened.

Essence ruptured around her, and Serenna braced for the strike. Instead, the power folded inward.

Taryn’s arch elf shell split down its seams, luminous skin darkening back into night. Golden hair bled black, and her fingers lengthened until her nails sharpened into talons. Stolen talents lifted from her body, bright globes hovering like obedient stars.

A wraith again.

Taryn flashed her fangs.

Then warped.

Serenna spun, thrusting her hands forward. Lightning cracked from her palms.

Too slow.

Taryn reappeared ten paces to the left.

Then vanished again.

Heat brushed the edge of Serenna’s awareness.

Fenn’s fire curled from the claws in his wings. Taryn’s command must’ve loosened, just enough for the flames to drift toward Serenna like embers caught in the wind.

Understanding locked into place, cruel as a collar closing.

She’d been striking with lightning alone because that’s what Ayla had expected. Serenna had obeyed so completely she’d forgotten about her connection to the earth—the wind rushing through the ring, the water still falling from the portal in the sky.

Serenna seized Fenn’s flames.

As fire poured into her palms beside lightning, memory rose with the heat—the Coliseum, the screaming, the reek of burning hair, the girl who’d turned to ash.

Serenna shook it off.

Taryn was no child.

Serenna bared her teeth and whirled to find her.

Taryn warped.

A ripple flashed at Serenna’s left, claws skimming past her ribs—a taunt, not a strike—before she could turn. Another shimmer broke behind her, close enough that the wind stirred against the nape of her neck. Serenna twisted, lightning snapping from her hands, but Taryn was already gone—every strike finding only displaced air and disturbed sand.

So Serenna stopped trying to aim.

She struck the ring itself.