Chapter 24 #2
A human soldier breaks through our lines, charging with a blade coated in a sickly yellow substance.
I react without thinking, diverting my power to send a concentrated blast of wind that lifts him off his feet and hurls him back into his own ranks.
The shield thins instantly where my attention falters.
The wind stutters, slipping from my control.
Unsteady and incomplete. Varok hisses in pain as his flames stretch to cover my weakness, but not before several sunblight orbs slip through the gap, shattering against the ground behind us with a horrifying sizzle.
The Crimson Bond Ceremony performed when you breathed life into her lungs and your blood mingled with hers, Eira said. You are already blood bound to Serin. She is your bloodmate.
"I have been a fool," I continue, the realization burning through me with greater heat than Varok's flames. "Fighting against what cannot be changed. Denying what might save us all."
Varok's eyes narrow, knowingly. "You speak of Serin."
"Yes." The admission feels like chains falling away. “If the bond with her strengthens my element as yours does with Leira…”
A massive explosion rocks the battlefield, cutting off my words.
One of Traven's teams has landed a direct hit on the human supply line.
Bodies and equipment fly through the air, momentarily disrupting their advance.
But I can already see them regrouping, their numbers seemingly endless against our dwindling force.
“We cannot hold this position much longer," Varok says, his voice tight with exertion as he maintains the fiery half of our shield.
My scales burn with frustration and something deeper. A regret that cuts sharper than any human blade. I have wasted precious time fighting against fate instead of embracing it. And now, when I finally see the truth, it may be too late.
“We need to fall back,” I say, making the decision Varok cannot. “Regroup and bring Serin and Leira to the front. Without them, we are fighting crippled. We need them… or all is lost.”
Varok hesitates, then nods sharply. "Signal the retreat. We will cover their withdrawal."
I raise my free hand, summoning a controlled funnel of air that rises high above the battlefield, a prearranged signal. Behind us, Traven acknowledges with a sharp whistle, and our warriors begin their coordinated withdrawal, carrying the wounded with them.
As our forces pull back, Varok and I intensify our elemental barrier, creating a wall of wind-whipped flame that momentarily blinds the human forces. Through the shimmer of heat, I watch our warriors retreat, counting casualties with each passing heartbeat. Too many. Far too many.
As we back toward the obsidian gate, maintaining our elemental shield with every ounce of strength we possess, I feel something shift inside me, not just resolve, but certainty.
If we survive this day, I will tell Serin the truth that burns hotter than Varok's flames.
I was wrong to deny what grows between us; my fear blinded me to the prophecy's true meaning.
And I pray to the Ancients she forgives me for the fool I have been.
My wind barrier flickers like a dying candle, muscles trembling with each new volley.
Beside me, Varok's once-brilliant scales now pulse weakly, the orange glow fading to dull amber as his fire element gutters.
We stagger backward in desperate unison, our tails leaving serpentine trails through ash, struggling to maintain the thin membrane of elements that separates life from death.
The shield wavers dangerously when another cask explodes overhead.
Behind us, wounded warriors moan as brothers drag them toward safety, blood-slick scales leaving crimson streaks across the scorched earth.
Before us, our remaining fighters clash with the advancing human line, their movements slowing as exhaustion and sunblight take their toll.
With each labored breath, the obsidian gate seems to recede farther into the distance.
Once we reach it, we can get the wounded inside and bring out the females with their complementary elements to bolster our failing powers. Together we can turn this tide. But the distance stretches like an eternity, and my wind element gutters like a candle in a storm with each passing heartbeat.
"Hold the line!" Varok roars beside me, his voice cracking with strain. Sweat beads on his scaled forehead, evaporating instantly in the heat of his failing flames. "Just a little longer!"
I grit my fangs, forcing another surge of air through my trembling hands. The shield bulges outward, deflecting another wave of glass orbs, but the effort sends pain lancing through my skull. My vision dims, and I know I cannot maintain this much longer.
I glance behind to judge our progress and think exhaustion has clouded my vision, that I imagine the gate flowing apart like midnight water.
But the obsidian continues to part, revealing the glow of heartglass torches and keh'shalin from within Vessan-Kar.
My heart plummets. If humans have breached our defenses from within, if the worms have opened our gate to the enemy. ..
Then I see her.
Serin steps through the widening gap, her small frame silhouetted against the glowing light behind her. Leira follows a half-step behind, her hand already extended toward Varok. My wind falters as shock ripples through me.
Serin stands at the gate, not safely hidden in the Temple of Threads, where the civilians were ordered to take shelter. My heart lurches painfully in my chest. Relief and terror war within me as her eyes lock with mine.
"No," I snarl, my tail lashing in agitation. "She cannot be here. It is too dangerous."
"That is the byrn talking, Lurok," Varok growls beside me, his blazing eyes knowing. "Your protective instinct fights what your warrior mind already understands. We need their elemental power to survive this."
“The byrn,” I whisper, the ancient word settling into place with the weight of truth.
It explains everything, this burning instinct to protect Serin above all else.
I had been fighting something as fundamental as the wind beneath my scales, waging war against my own nature.
The fury when I saw the TrueCoil's marks on her skin, my need to hunt down the male who hurt her, the constant awareness of her presence that pulls at me even as my mind resists.
My concentration slips. The wind shield shudders, thinning dangerously as my focus fractures. A glass orb penetrates the weakened barrier, shattering against the ground mere tail-lengths from a wounded Talon. The warrior cries out, dragging himself away from the spreading sunblight.
Varok's flames surge to cover the gap, but the effort costs him. He staggers as his fire dims further.
"Lurok!" he snarls. "Focus, or we all die, including Serin!"
I steady the shield and rebuild what faltered, as my eyes remain fixed on Serin.
She advances toward me with purposeful strides.
Her hair whips around her face in the ash-laden wind, her jaw set in a hard line that speaks of fury barely contained.
I can feel her anger tearing across the battlefield like a cyclone, the invisible force of her fury whipping around her and cutting through the distance between us.
She is real. She is here. And she is furious.
Leira rushes past her sister toward Varok, calling his name as she approaches.
But Serin moves directly toward me, her hazel eyes never leaving mine, holding me pinned like prey beneath a predator's gaze.
She stops just beyond the perimeter of our shield, close enough that I can see each gold fleck in her eyes, the tight press of her lips, the rigid set of her shoulders.
"Serin," I manage, my voice hoarse from exertion. "It is not safe—"
"Shut up," she cuts me off, her voice sharp as a blade. Before I can respond, she throws her hands forward, palms outward toward my struggling shield.
The air crackles between us. I feel a sudden rush, like being caught in the heart of a thunderhead, as something wild and raw surges from her fingertips into my elemental shield.
Wind meets wind, merges, and suddenly the strain eases.
Power surges through me, not from within but from without, from her.
Our elements recognize each other, entwine, and become one continuous flow rather than separate forces.
The shield stabilizes instantly. More than that, it strengthens, thickening into an impenetrable wall of swirling air currents that deflect the next volley of glass orbs with effortless grace. What required every ounce of my concentration moments ago now feels as natural as breathing.
I stare at her, my mind struggling to process what my body already knows. The wind answers her as it answers me. She commands the element that lives beneath my scales. She is my mirror, my counterpart, my—
"Serin, I—” I whisper her name.
Her eyes narrow dangerously. "Don't," she warns, keeping her hands extended, feeding her power into our shared shield. "I'm not interested in anything else you have to say.”
Each word strikes like a physical blow, but I deserve every one. I rejected what grows between us out of fear and misplaced certainty of a prophecy I misunderstood. I have spent a lifetime believing the Season of Naga meant destruction. I never believed it could be our salvation.
I cannot take my eyes off Serin as our elements dance together, her wind and mine forming a perfect harmony that feels like a missing piece sliding into place. The air around us shimmers with power that outmatches anything I could summon alone.