Chapter 30
JASSYN
Jassyn stepped through Lykor’s portal and into the wind.
A plateau the rangers had named Stormspire lay shattered beneath them—stone split by old violence, earth stained violet as if the mountains themselves had been bruised.
The thin air hit first, knifing straight into his lungs with a metallic charge.
Across the southwestern horizon, lightning forked through the clouds. The storm held its breath, watching and waiting with Skylash still chained somewhere within.
The rangers’ command tent snapped against its stakes, canvas straining to tear free. A cluster of dracovae stamped in the gravel, feathers rippling, scales catching flashes of distant light.
Some riders were mounted, waiting for orders. Others were already airborne, sweeping wide arcs through the sky.
Jassyn hadn’t slept. Not truly.
They’d named him First Keeper of the Ember Accord and moved on, calling it unity when only he surrendered. A blade of a title pressed to his palm, accepted because he didn’t fight it.
The day before had been drowned in maps, questions, and compromises disguised as strategy—decisions made too late to feel like anything but desperation.
Which faction could hold a mountain pass.
Who had enough training to survive the sky.
Who would be the first to fall when the Maw opened its jaws.
They’d looked to him to settle every dispute, as if steadiness meant readiness. As if stillness could stand in for experience. As though that alone made him fit to direct this campaign that might lead to war.
The unease still clung to him.
Vesryn had spoken the title without irony, as though it had always belonged to Jassyn. Kaedryn had pressed a claw to her heart, the other guildmasters mirroring her reverence.
And Lykor—Lykor had flanked him with the quiet menace of a weapon unsheathed.
His lip curled at anyone who stared too long.
A low growl would rise at the first hint of dissent, ending most arguments before they even formed.
Wings flared like a warning, fangs bared like a threat—violence poised to strike before Jassyn ever gave the word.
Apparently, every reluctant leader needed an enforcer.
Jassyn had waited for someone to rescind the decision, to say the truth aloud—that he wasn’t the one they trusted to lead them into the storm.
But no one did.
So at dawn, he had Lykor portal them here outside the threshold, at the rangers’ outpost where they were preparing to breach the Maw.
Jassyn crossed the plateau toward the command tent, if it could even be called one. Just a strip of canvas lashed to stakes with ropes of force, already losing its fight with the endless gusts.
Above, the looming storm still refused to break. The druids swore it never would. And yet Jassyn sensed rain circling in the air, the sky swollen with unshed fury. The unnatural roiling sent a shiver through him, far more unsettling than any downpour.
Beneath the canvas, the others had already gathered. Cinderax lifted his head first as Jassyn stepped under, molten eyes flaring in silent greeting. Kaedryn glanced up, inclining her chin.
Serenna stood near Vesryn’s illusion map, pointing toward the marshes. The prince hovered at her shoulder, fingers drumming against his thigh.
Vesryn straightened, meeting Jassyn’s eyes. “Zaeryn has a flight of rangers airborne with their dracovae.” He gestured toward a cluster of glowing points along the river channels. “On our mark, they’ll sweep the Blackreach and harry any ships trying to force their way toward the Maw.”
Without a word, Lykor claimed the space at Jassyn’s side, arms crossing over his armor, shoulder brushing Jassyn’s. “Kal’s handling the portaling of the wraith and your magus. They’re positioned along the Dreadspire Range—the switchbacks overlooking the marshes.”
“Once Cinderax touches my mind from the Maw,” Kaedryn added, idly tracing the Starshard in her palm, “I’ll follow with the children of earth and starlight and a legion of the scalebound.”
“The rest of our warriors will remain in the city,” Cinderax finished with a low rumble. “Guarding Vasharax and the hatching eggs. They’re equipped with the Starshards Serenna and Vesryn recovered. The dragons and civilians won’t be left defenseless.”
Jassyn nodded, though the motion felt hollow. They’d circle the Maw with forces and call it a shield. In truth, it felt more like a web of eyes waiting to see the king arrive, not stop him.
Serenna lifted her hand, a golden ring gleaming around a finger. “Essence-wielders who enter the Maw will be tethered. So we don’t accidentally summon the storm.” Her mouth tightened, the glare she leveled at Vesryn saying the rest.
Jassyn accepted the ring she offered. The bond to the prince vanished so cleanly it left a void in its wake as he slid the metal into place.
“The druids will divert lightning the way Lykor managed,” Serenna continued.
“I’m bringing the Heart of Stars as well,” she added, adjusting the pack fastened across her shoulders.
“If we find Skylash today, we’ll have what we need to break her chains.
” She shared a glance with the prince. “I’ll signal for Vesryn using patterns of fire in the sky—we’ve worked out a system.
He’ll be flying with the rangers, watching from Naru.
If the moment comes, we’ll work together to free her. ”
“Thalaesyn and my mother will remain in Asharyn,” Vesryn said. “If Fenn’s scouts confirm that the humans have been portaled in to join Elashor’s force and the city becomes their target, they’ll open rifts to evacuate the civilians. But only if we have no other choice.”
Jassyn refused to let the thought linger. Evacuation meant failure, and failure meant losing more than the city. But these were the choices they’d made together, spoken enough times to feel solid, as if repetition alone might keep everything from splitting apart.
Daeryn and Bhreena slipped beneath the canvas, boots grinding grit into the earth.
Jassyn kept his gaze on the illusion spread out before them instead of Daeryn. Some truths pressed so close they would steal the breath from him if he dared acknowledge them.
“Any word on those razorwings?” he asked, to whoever held the report.
“Not until Fenn checks in,” Serenna said. “He’s due back soon.”
Daeryn leaned over the map, its turquoise glow sharpening the angles of his doubt. “You’re comfortable spreading us this thin?”
“I think splitting our forces is suicide,” Bhreena muttered in agreement, her scowl shadowing the marshlands.
Jassyn drew breath to answer, but Lykor spoke first.
“Even united, we’re outmatched,” he growled. “Surely you’ve seen what Galaeryn commands. Humans. Half-elves. Rimeclaw. Any army he throws our way will crush us.”
Bhreena’s eyes flashed. “So your answer is for our people to stand by and wait to be overrun?”
“No,” Jassyn clipped before Lykor could snap again, a single syllable he forced through his teeth.
His voice held steady, though the steel beneath it still felt like a weapon he hadn’t learned to wield.
“Serenna and I will fly in first. Once we confirm Skylash’s position, Fenn will open portals for you to follow. ”
He stepped closer to the map, hand hovering above the towering peak pulsing with faint turquoise light. “Just as we agreed, you’ll help deflect the storm while we free the dragon.”
He lifted his gaze to Bhreena’s. “But the moment those portals open or Serenna and Vesryn call sunfire through the Heart, Essence will summon the storm and whatever stealth we have is forfeit. If the king’s forces are anywhere near the Maw, our magic will be a beacon.
And when that happens, everyone holding the perimeter buys time for those freeing Skylash. ”
A single misstep and this becomes a massacre. But Jassyn let the harrowing thought stay unspoken.
Bhreena’s jaw clenched, but she remained silent.
“I know one dragon won’t save us,” Jassyn added, quieter now. “But it’s a risk we have to take on the hope she might be enough to shift the course of this war.”
“No one will be spared if Galaeryn wins,” Daeryn said, his hands locking behind his back. “We’ll go where you need us.”
Jassyn wanted to look at him. To offer steady words in return, assurances that reached beyond the blood they might spill for a war they hadn’t chosen.
But for now, he only nodded. Kept breathing. And hoped that their future hadn’t already been lost.
A heavy silence wrapped around the circle. Cinderax chuffed across the map, smoke curling from his nostrils.
“If Skylash is freed, she may not even deign to speak to us,” he said, eyes locking on Jassyn. “She may only see us as intruders to her domain.” His inner eyelid swept across his gaze in a slow blink. “I’ll try to reason with her. Before she decides to strike.”
Jassyn barely had time to dread the thought of Skylash turning her fury on them before the air outside the tent convulsed. Pressure mounted as a portal ruptured the sky.
Fenn burst through the rift first, wings slick with mist, steam trailing from the membranes. Six wraith flew behind in tight formation, fanning out around him.
With a flick of his wrist and a click of talons, Fenn dismissed his squad. The wraith peeled away without a word, warping through another portal.
Fenn landed beside the tent and dispelled his wings. Ducking under the canvas, he adjusted the twin knives strapped along his spine. No smirk tugged at his mouth and the usual fire in his eyes had tempered into something cold.
That alone told Jassyn everything he needed to know.
“It’s not good, is it?” Jassyn asked.