TWENTY-THREE
BURNOUT
Dragons are ancient creatures, wise beyond measure and bearers of magics greater than any mortal mind can grasp.
Depending on your affinity, you know where your magics come from: a feeling, controlling, releasing, or grounding.
But the magics shared through a dragon bond is something altogether different.
I have seen riders spend years learning to channel it so they can use it effectively and not destroy themselves.
Those who rush the process rarely survive it.
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
The air shatters around it as the weapon streaks toward its target like a comet.
Then—something snaps. It doesn’t simply leave my hands; it tears through me like a string pulled too tight, then severed.
Still suspended in the air, my body seizes, a full-body tremor rolling through my limbs, shaking me down to my bones. My chest constricts as though something essential has just been ripped out of me.
The air in my lungs vanishes, stolen by the Elemental force tearing through me. I hit the marble hard. I can’t breathe. I feel lightheaded. Disconnected. As if I’ve left a part of myself behind inside the storm.
I try to stand, but my limbs buckle beneath me like a newborn foal struggling to rise.
“Amara!”
Thane’s roar cuts through the battle, raw and desperate. He lunges toward me, reaching—but then shadows move.
A wave of Fellborn rush him, their twisted forms a blur of darkness, their clawed hands stretching, reaching, hungry. Too fast. Too many. Thane curses, already pivoting as golden fire erupts around him in a blinding arc.
He doesn’t hesitate. He can’t get to me. Not yet. Not while the Fellborn stand between us. And if he doesn’t cut them down first, he’ll never reach me at all.
A distant part of me realizes I went too far. Knows that channeling all four Elements at once without a proper anchor is dangerous. Knows that I should have paced myself, controlled the storm rather than letting it control me.
But it’s too late. The Elements are already in motion. And the Commander sees it coming.
His burning silver eyes widen, his entire form shifting, unraveling, trying to escape.
He raises a hand, dark magics coiling outward, and tendrils of shadow lash outward as it tries to stop the attack.
Trying to twist the Elements the way he twisted Thane’s fire earlier.
But this is not just fire. It’s not just wind.
It’s all of it. And he did not expect this.
The frozen lightning collides with the Commander’s counterstrike, shredding through it like paper.
A soundless shockwave erupts from the impact, the force of it distorting the air, shattering the darkness.
The Commander’s own magics fracture, recoil, and turn against him.
His shadows scream as they splinter apart. And then—so does he.
His form cracks. Splits. Shatters.
The mark of the Shadeheart sears white-hot across his chest before fracturing like shattered glass.
His entire body tears apart in an eruption of Elemental force, the blast rippling outward like the dying scream of something profoundly unnatural.
One final distorted whisper escapes him. A last wretched sound.
He’s gone. Disintegrated. Erased. Nothing remains but blackened mist, curling away into nothingness.
I turn, breath ragged, heart pounding. In the periphery of my vision, I see Garrick cleave through two more creatures in a single, brutal swipe.
Valen stands deeper within the shattered ballroom, his brow furrowed in concentration, unleashing a barrage of energy bolts as he scans the ballroom, our battlefield, always one step ahead.
Then the Fellborn begin to dissolve.
One by one, their twisted forms shudder. Inky bodies unravel. Limbs disintegrate into curling wisps of darkness. Their commander is gone. And with him, his hold over them.
The pressure in the ballroom finally breaks, their presence fading like mist in the morning sun.
For a long, tense moment, the ballroom falls into silence. The survivors stand frozen, their eyes wide with awe, with disbelief. The Commander has fallen.
The world tilts.
At some point, I must have forced myself back to my feet, because now I’m swaying, my body barely holding itself together.
The ballroom feels like it’s spinning too fast, like the ground is moving beneath me.
Energy still hums in my veins, but now it feels raw.
Jagged. Unbalanced. I try to take a step, but my legs won’t hold me.
The moment I realize I’m falling, hands catch me.
Thane. Always Thane.
His grip locks around me before I can fall.
“Shit, Amara—” his voice is sharp, worried, barely controlled. “You’re—”
“I’m fine,” I say.
I’m absolutely not fine.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the dizziness to pass.
I feel hollow. Not just tired or drained.
Hollow. I poured too much of myself into the storm, into the strike that shattered the Commander, and now I don’t know what remains of me.
My body no longer feels entirely mine. My limbs are sluggish and distant, as though I’ve been wrung out and left to dry.
Before I can say another word, darkness crashes over me.
Somewhere far away, I hear Calryx’s furious roar.
Then—silence.
When I open my eyes, I’m standing among the clouds. But how could that be?
Oh, wait. No. I’m standing on a mountain peak so high it pierces through the clouds themselves.
I turn cautiously. Before me stretches the endless sky. Behind me stands a dense green forest, ancient and impossibly still.
I was just in the middle of a battle in a ballroom. Now I’m standing in the clouds?
Oh.
This is a dream.
My heart thuds against my chest. No. Not my heart. The bond.
I follow the pull instinctively, moving deeper into the forest where clouds drift between the trees like living mist.
“Amara, my dear child.”
I know that voice. A woman. I’ve heard her in dreams before, but I never see her face.
“Hello?” I call carefully into the silence.
Another voice answers. A man’s voice.
“Amara,” he says softly, “we have been watching you.”
My head snaps back and forth, but there’s no one there. The voices seem to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
“Who are you?”
“We know who you are,” their voices say as one.
“That doesn’t answer my question!” I shout.
Even in the dream, I feel frustration bubbling up. I’ve had enough of disembodied voices that refuse to answer questions directly.
“How do you know me?!” I yell into the trees and mist.
But they don’t answer my questions. Instead, the voices speak over one another in fractured bursts, some words landing sharply while others slip beyond my understanding.
“The seal is weakening.”
“The fifth path opens soon.”
“The storm has begun.”
“The bond changes everything.”
I stomp my foot like a petulant child. “I don’t understand half of what you’re saying!”
“Another heartbeat still echoes beside yours.”
“Of course it does!” I shout as my mind flashes to Thane and Calryx.
Oh gods! Thane! Calryx! I have to get out of this dream.
At the thought, the bond begins pounding inside my chest. With every step toward the clearing, the drumming grows louder. By the time I break through the final line of trees, the pounding is deafening. I clap my ears with my hands and squeeze my eyes shut.
Get me back to Thane.
Get me back to Thane.
Get me back to Thane.
I wake in his arms.
Thane doesn’t let go.
His grip tightens hard enough to bruise. His eyes scan over me desperately, searching for something. Reassurance. An answer. Proof that I’m still here.
“Fuck, Amara. You almost burned yourself out,” he shouts. “You shouldn’t have—”
“It worked,” I cut in, breathless, exhausted.
His jaw tightens. I can see the frustration in his eyes. Thane must see it on my face because his grip doesn’t loosen.
“You can’t do that again,” he says, low, firm.
“We didn’t have a choice,” I shoot back.
“Then next time, we find another way,” he growls. “Because I won’t watch you burn yourself out like that again.”
His voice is quiet, but unshakable.
“There wasn’t another way,” I argue, even though I can barely stand, even though I can still feel the way the Elements inside me refuse to settle.
“Then we make another way,” he snaps.
I flinch. Not because of his tone, but because of what I see in his eyes. He’s furious. But beneath it, beneath the fire and the frustration, there’s something else. Something I’ve never seen in him before. Fear.
Thane Caelum, the unshakable Warlord, is afraid.
“That was reckless.” Valen’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
I turn, my body still weak, still not entirely mine, and find him standing a few steps away. His gray-streaked hair is disheveled, bruises shadow his face, and his clothes are streaked with dried blood and gore.
But his piercing gaze is fixed entirely on me.
I bristle. “I won.”
“You survived,” he corrects.
His eyes flick briefly toward Thane before returning to me. He sees everything.
“Do you even realize what you just did?” Valen asks, stepping closer. “The kind of power you just pulled through yourself?”
I exhale sharply, trying to shake off the crushing exhaustion. “I’ve wielded all four elements before, Valen.”
“Not like that.” His voice is too even. Too knowing.
I try to straighten, but the tremble in my hands betrays me.
Beside me, Thane’s fingers twitch against my arms like he’s fighting the urge to pull me closer. He knows I’m still on the verge of collapse.
Valen exhales, dragging a hand through his hair.
“You weren’t just channeling, Amara. You were burning through yourself.” His words land like a blow. “You don’t even know how much you just lost. Your eyes are bloodshot. You’re pale as snow. Blood is running from your eyes and ears.”
“I’m okay,” I insist, though the words sound weaker now.
“You are not okay, Amara.” His silver-blue eyes pin me in place. “You’re still running on the aftermath. When it fades, you’ll understand.”
Thane stiffens beside me.