TWENTY-TWO
THE COMMANDER
“Dragon channeling gives the dragon and the rider a new connection. It was said it originally helped them communicate. Over time, the two became more powerful together. As their bond grew, the dragon was able to enhance his/her rider with greater magics and abilities.”
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
Between us, the bond pulls insistently, as though calling me closer to Thane.
The dark form locks eyes with me. And I feel it.
Suffocating. Ancient. Malicious.
Calryx’s voice slams into my mind again, more frantic than before.
“The Shadow Commander is coming for you. Don’t let him near you!”
My heart clenches.
The weight of his gaze is like a hand closing around my throat—not touching me, but pressing down all the same, saturated with power.
The air around us begins to spiral violently, ripping strands of hair loose from their pins and whipping at the ruined fabric of my dress.
My eyes snap toward Thane. He’s already looking at me. And for the first time tonight, I see something close to terror in his expression.
His dark hair lashes wildly around his face. His cloak is gone. Burns scar the fabric of his tunic while thin cuts streak across his arms and face.
Beyond the castle walls, a roar of frustration shakes the night, deep and primal, echoing through stone and sky alike.
“Damn these walls and frail humans!”
The massive figure emerges from a portal that looks less like a doorway and more like a tear in reality.
It is a circle of absolute blackness, so empty that the light around it bends inward, drawn toward its center before disappearing entirely.
Smoke, ash, and loose stones drift toward the void, pulled by an invisible force that defies reason.
The darkness does not merely block the light. It devours it.
From that impossible emptiness steps a towering man cloaked in living shadow, the darkness writhing around him like a storm given shape. He stands amid the shattered grandeur of the ballroom, vast and deeply unnatural, as though the void itself has taken human form.
And his eyes burn. A malignant light, searing and purposeful.
My eyes land on the mark on his ashen skin.
Etched onto his throat, glowing faintly as it shifts between deep violet and endless black. The unmistakable mark of the Shadeheart.
I have only ever seen it in books. A crescent moon enclosing a jagged star, tendrils spiraling outward from its center. On the page, it was ink on parchment. Here, it pulses with something else entirely.
Something alive. Something watching me back.
A memory stirs, cutting through my shock.
Valen’s voice.
Always patient. Always guiding.
“A Shadow Commander is more than just a leader,” he had once said, tracing the symbol carefully across the worn pages of an ancient tome. “They are the Shadeheart’s chosen. Her enforcers. Her executioners. They do not simply serve her.”
Valen’s fingers had tapped the page, the glow of the candlelight making the ink shimmer.
“They carry her will. Her power. Her mark is not a title.” His gaze had lifted to mine then, quieter and infinitely heavier. “It is a bond. And once bound . . . they do not break free.”
I swallow hard as understanding slams into me all at once. This isn’t just another shadow soldier. This is a Shadow Commander. And he is here for me.
“The Spiritborn . . . ”
The voice shifts between tones, layered with overlapping voices that sound ancient and profoundly wrong.
“Did you think we would not come for you?”
The world narrows.
The clash of steel and magics. The screams. The scents of blood and fire.
All of it fades.
The battlefield shrinks to this single moment—to the Commander’s gaze pinning me in place.
The rest of the fight still rages, but I don’t hear it. Don’t smell the smoke. Don’t feel the heat of the flames curling around Thane’s fists.
There is only this voice. Only this presence.
A hollow dread sinks deep into my chest, as though the Commander’s words have carved through reality itself, pulling me toward something deeper. Something colder.
Thane steps forward, positioning himself between me and the commander, his presence solid, immovable. His voice drops into a low growl edged with steel.
“Stay close.”
I nod, though my thoughts are already racing ahead, calculations colliding faster than I can fully process them. I can’t rely solely on magics. This battle requires more than raw power. It requires strategy, something I am still learning.
The shadows surrounding the Commander coil and writhe, serpentine and alive, their dark tendrils slithering like vipers poised to strike. The sheer weight of their presence presses against me, the air growing thick and suffocating.
I reach for Thane instinctively, my fingers slipping between his. His grip tightens, grounding me instantly. His eyes lock with mine, determination blazing in them.
“They have not won,” he says, his voice a promise, fierce and unyielding. “We are not done fighting yet.”
Then, without taking his gaze off the commander, Thane speaks again.
Low. Lethal. A vow carved into the air between us.
“Lay a hand on her, and I’ll burn you to ash.”
The Commander stills. The shadows coil tighter around him as if responding to the threat.
I force myself to breathe, pushing back against the pressure crushing inward from all sides. My pulse hammers in my ears as I scan the battle again, every sense sharpened to a blade’s edge. There’s still a way through this.
There has to be.
Sera moves beside Valen, twin blades flashing as they carve through the encroaching shadows with lethal speed.
Exhaustion lines her face, but her movements remain fluid and merciless, even as enemies swarm around her.
She cuts through the darkness like she was born for this.
For a fleeting moment, I envy her strength.
Then the Commander raises a hand. And the shadows surge toward me. Tendrils lash forward, too fast to track.
“Amara!” Thane’s voice roars through the havoc, but I can’t move fast enough.
Before I can react, one coils around my wrist, wrenching me off balance as I crash forward. Pain lances through my arm, the grip crushing hard enough to grind bone.
The bond seizes in my chest, Thane’s terror slamming into me through our connection.
My heart pounds, but I force myself to breathe. To focus.
“Not today,” I hiss.
I reach deep into the earth beneath me and slam my hands down hard. The floor fractures beneath me with a thunderous roar, the impact sending a shockwave in his direction.
The tendrils twist violently, writhing as if in pain, and the Commander stumbles back, momentarily thrown off balance.
My breath heaves. My pulse thunders in my ears.
Then I feel it. A sharp sting along my arm.
I glance down. A deep gash tears across my skin, blood dripping in thick crimson trails onto the shattered marble. The wound is savage, flesh split jagged and raw.
But even as I stare at it, it’s already healing.
The blood flow slows. The torn skin weaves back together, knitting itself closed as if the wound was never there. But something remains. A faint mark still mars the skin where the gash had been, tender and aching beneath the surface.
I flex my fingers, testing it. The soreness lingers, a reminder that the wound had been real, however briefly.
A flicker of movement drags my attention upward. The Commander is staring directly at me. His eyes flare with surprise—and then his lips curve into a menacing but gleeful, smile.
Something inside me snaps.
I spring to my feet, furious. Rage seethes through my veins, hotter than fire, sharper than steel. I don’t know what he’s so damn happy about, but I’m about to wipe that smirk off his face.
Thane moves first.
Golden flames erupt around him in a blinding arc as he hurls a devastating wave of fire toward the massive figure—but the Commander’s shadows twist unnaturally around the flames, corrupting them into something black and wrong.
The fire turns, surging back toward us.
Thane rips through the corrupted flames with a single violent motion, his own fire burning gold and fierce as it tears the tainted magics apart.
The Commander steps forward, blackened fire curling around its body like a living cloak.
His grin sharpens.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” he hisses.
My mind races. This is a battle I cannot win through force alone. The Commander’s power, his manipulation of shadow, is too much.
Too strong.
I look around, searching for any advantage, any opening. I feel the surge of Elemental power inside me, but it isn’t enough. The air crackles around me while the earth beneath my feet hums with power, but the Elements no longer feel obedient.
Then Calryx’s voice cuts through my thoughts again, clear and fierce.
“I am with you. I cannot reach you inside the castle, but I feel the storm rising. Trust in your strength. You are more than this battle.”
Her words strike something deep inside me, and with it, resolve ignites.
Then Valen’s voice cuts through the chaos like a clarion call.
“You’ve got this, my girl! It’s in you! Now is the time!”
I close my eyes for one brief moment, centering myself the way Valen taught me.
I draw from the pulse of the earth beneath my feet. The howling winds tearing through the ballroom. The damp air thick with tension. The fire raging all around me.
The Elements gather within me—fire, earth, wind, and water—collapsing into a singular force.
Power blooms low in my belly. I know what I have to do.
I have done this before. In training yards. In controlled environments. With Valen guiding me, with Thane watching, correcting, testing my limits.
But this isn’t practice. This is real.
And suddenly, everything I thought I understood feels different.
The Elements pull at me, demanding, ready to be unleashed. But not like before. Not in calm precision or control. No. Now they are wild, roaring, desperate.
And so am I.
Fire surges first, instinctive and natural. My hands burn with golden heat before I even realize I’ve summoned it. It crackles up my arms, alive and eager, waiting for direction.