Chapter 69
Draevyn
The blast sent Draevyn flying back into a pillar, the force of the impact cracking the stone. His lungs were burning, ribs aching, but as he was finally able to open his eyes and focus through the haze, it was the sight before him that stole the air from his chest.
Esmyra stood at the center of the ruin she’d created, power still rippling off her that made the castle groan and splinter. Midnight and silver hair whipped around her like a living flame, her glowing eyes fixed on her sister with a fury that could tear the world in two.
Draevyn forced himself to his feet, his body trembling, not from the pain, but from what he’d just witnessed and the unknown of what would follow.
He’d seen her wield unbelievable levels of magic before, but this was something else entirely.
This was her power unleashed, raw and unchecked, in something both divine and all consuming.
And it terrified him.
Not because he feared her. He could never fear his Wildfire. What terrified him was what it was costing her.
The look in her eyes, the way her chest heaved, the faint tremor in her hands… she was burning herself hollow. Esmyra was giving everything she had to protect them, and he didn’t know if she could withstand it. Didn’t know if anyone could even survive it.
Draevyn’s fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. He needed to reach her, desperate to drag her out of this madness, but the truth clawed at him, gripping and shredding his heart with invisible talons.
And that truth was that this wasn’t a battle he could fight for her.
All he could do was stand with her, bleed alongside her, and pray to every force beyond their world she didn’t destroy herself in the process.
The clash between Esmyra and Naerysa continued to shake the throne room as the wrath of gods consumed them.
The very air split with the violence of it, pressure tearing outward until the domed ceiling above them shattered like glass.
Stone and crystal rained down on them all, scattering across the floor as the skies opened to their fury, the Blood Moon nearly at its peak.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Movement drew his attention to the far side of the room and that was when he found his brother.
Atlas had broken from the fight, sprinting across the wreckage toward the far wall.
Elowynne still hung there, chained and trembling, her wrists raw where iron dug into her skin.
Atlas’s roar echoed off the shattered walls as his shadows dove into the locks.
But then something else shifted at the edge of his vision.
Out of the corner of the chamber, Azarian crawled along the fractured marble.
Draevyn couldn’t believe the bastard was still alive.
His face appeared half-burned, armor dented and smeared with blood as his black eyes gleamed with the kind of devotion only madness could breed.
He pushed himself to his feet, drawing his spear as his focus locked on Atlas’s exposed back.
The sight made Draevyn’s throat tighten. His brother was seconds away from freeing Elowynne, but he couldn’t see the reaper aiming for him with his attention locked on those chains.
Draevyn’s hand snapped up, flame roaring from his palm in a searing stream meant to engulf Azarian where he stood. The blaze howled across the wreckage, scorching the air before striking his chest, but the fire immediately fizzled out to nothing but embers.
Draevyn’s eyes widened as Azarian’s armor shimmered faintly, swallowing the blaze into itself—just as the cave’s rocks guarding Maerinys had when they locked him out. The light of his flames rippled across the scale-like armor, its heat vanishing.
The ugly fuck only smiled, his face twisting into something grotesque as he leveled the blade of his spear once more and stepped forward.
Draevyn cursed under his breath, fire dancing along his knuckles.
Fine. If the bastard thought his armor would save him, then he would tear through it with his bare hands if he had to. Azarian crept closer, blade lifting for the strike, and Draevyn’s fury kindled into something sharp and merciless.
Draevyn was moving before his mind caught up and he ripped his blade free, the steel hissing as fire licked up its length. Each heartbeat stretched, every step feeling like an eternity.
He shoved past members of his crew as they clashed with Maerinys soldiers while he sprinted through the chaos. Bursts of heat from the battling goddesses flared in the corner of his vision, but still, he ran.
Atlas turned, his eyes flaring at the sight of Azarian lifting his spear high, ready to cleave straight through him.
“No!” Draevyn lunged, his blade screaming as it met Azarian’s weapon. The impact cracked like thunder, fire sparking against the guard’s enchanted armor. His teeth clenched, every muscle straining as he forced the strike back, blocking the blow inches from his brother’s chest.
At that same moment, a sharp, miraculous click sounded as Elowynne’s locks snapped free, the chains clattering uselessly against the wall as they hung from their hinges.
Draevyn peered over his shoulder, the veins in his neck straining as he held Azarian back. Atlas pulled Elowynne to her feet, dragging her into his chest.
A small relief washed over Draevyn, and with a guttural snarl, he shoved the witch back.
And then writhing, black shadows snapped up from the stone floor at Atlas’s command.
They coiled around Azarian’s ankles, tightening until the male was yanked upside down, his weapon clattering from his grip.
With a violent twist of his wrist, the shadows hurled the armored brute across the room.
He crashed against a column, its stone splitting as rubble rained down around him.
Draevyn sucked in a breath, sword still blazing. His gaze flicked to his brother before darting back to where Azarian had landed, finding he’d already disappeared.
“Fucking Irah,” he huffed.
Atlas searched Elowynne’s face with frantic eyes. His hands skimmed over her wrists, her shoulders, every inch of her as if he could will away any bruise or mark left by her captor.
“Are you hurt?” His voice broke with the question.
Elowynne shook her head, but the fire in her eyes said otherwise.
She all but tore herself from his hold, fury radiating from every trembling muscle as she clawed at the band of silvery stone on her finger. And with a sharp twist, she ripped it free.
Draevyn’s eyes flared as he noticed it was a velsinyte ring.
Elowynne staggered, nearly falling, but Atlas caught her by the elbows. Still, she shoved forward, dragging in a shuddering breath as the weight that had been suffocating her lifted. Draevyn knew that feeling all too well—that returning surge of suppressed power.
The air around her thickened, golden light shining from her eyes and growing brighter with every heartbeat. She raised her hands toward the chaos raging between the two goddesses.
“Not Esmyra!” Draevyn and Atlas both shouted in tandem, their voices overlapping.
Her jaw clenched, golden light blazing around her like a halo. “I know exactly who I’m aiming for,” she spat, venom lacing every word.
Elowynne’s eyes narrowed, the gold in them burning hotter as if she could pierce through Naerysa’s very soul. Her jaw was tight, brows drawn, and lips barely parted as she summoned her magic, clawing for an opening in her mind.
Draevyn’s stomach dropped as he realized it wasn’t working. He saw it in the way her expression began to falter. That crease deepened between her brows, the strain sharpening her cheekbones.
Her eyes widened with dawning horror. “I can’t… I can’t get through.”
Elowynne staggered back, her eyes flickering with frustration as her fists trembled.
“She’s not letting me in,” she hissed through her teeth, her voice sharp with disbelief. “Her mind is closed. It’s as if it’s barred shut.”
“It’s because she’s blocking Esmyra,” Draevyn growled, his gaze flicking between the two locked in their clash.
“What?” she gaped, as magic continued to flare around them like clashing suns and storms.
“There’s more things at work here,” Atlas explained as he nodded up to the shattered ceiling. “They’re blocking each other out because of the Blood Moon.”
Elowynne shook her head. “I’m not following.”
Draevyn reached for her wrist before she could force herself into another attempt. “You don’t have to,” he said. “Not now, anyway. And we can’t waste time. We need to let Esmyra handle her sister.”
He turned his head, eyes scanning the chaos around them as their crew remained locked in a brutal fight with the guards pouring through the broken doors.
“We need to hold them,” he admitted, releasing her. “We need to help the crew.”
Elowynne looked between the two brothers, and Atlas gave her a nod of approval. She met Draevyn’s gaze before giving him a dip of her chin, agreeing to fight.
He turned without hesitation, hurling himself back into the fray. He slammed into the nearest guard, flame roaring from his blade, while others began to scream wherever Elowynne focused, followed by shadows tearing them apart.
And through it all, Draevyn’s thoughts were tethered to his Wildfire as she held her ground against her sister, the weight of the Blood Moon’s peak pressing down on them all.