Chapter 16 Fire Over Elderfell
Fire Over Elderfell
Holly
No. No, no, no.
The hoof prints vanish right at the edge of the mirror, swallowed up by the snow. My stomach twists as if the ground has dropped away beneath me.
This is my fault. I should have thought. I should…
But then I couldn’t have closed the mirror from in here. My magic is…dead in the ice prison.
“He’s gone,” I whisper, but the words scrape out of my throat, raw and broken.
Zayne’s curse cuts through the icy air, sharp and furious. The children huddle closer together, Josh’s arms tight around the littlest one. Even Grimlet has gone still, wings folded, his usual muttering silenced.
I thought it was over. We could all get out and close the mirror—properly this time—and he’d be gone forever. How could I have been so stupid? He played us. Kept us busy while he escaped.
“I’m going to end him,” I growl. My voice doesn’t sound like mine. Too thin. Too scared. But inside, my anger rises, spilling over.
Zayne grips my hand, his silver eyes burning. “We’ll destroy him together,” he says. “But we need to get the children safe first.”
I give a sharp nod. “Then we hunt the Hunter.”
“Come on, we’ll take them to the manor. Your mum and dad will call around and let the villagers know.”
I step through the mirror, and they all follow. A sense of relief flows through me as we step out of that place. Even the children seem to perk up.
Inside me, the magic stirs—like something huge just sat up in the dark and screamed—I’m back. I turn to face the mirror.
“Thread be severed, mirror undone
—Fracture, fade, be nothing—gone.”
Power bites the air; frost spider-webs across the ice. A shudder runs through it, and the ice shatters. And the mirror is gone forever.
Zayne looks at me, one eyebrow raised.
“We don’t want anyone else wandering in there,” I say. “And Khazim isn’t going back to prison. This time we finish him.”
Nobody argues.
We head home as fast as the children can go. It’s the early hours of Christmas morning.
As we near the manor, I hear it—the faint echo of screams drifting from the village. The sound is too soft, too fragile, and suddenly I know with every cell in my body that he’s there. In Elderfell.
Zayne has stopped in front of me. He looks at me.
“Can you hear it?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“He’s there. Oh God, he’s going to kill them all.”
“Go,” he says, his eyes flashing silver. “Take the children. Get them to safety. Josh, you go with her.”
“What are you going to do?” But I already know.
“Stop him.” He lowers Tansy to the ground. “Go with Holly, sweetheart.”
“Is your monster going to kill the bad man? I saw him through the ice.”
“Yeah, he’s going to kill the bad man.”
She nods solemnly.
Zayne steps closer to me, cups my cheek, and lowers his head, taking my mouth in a fierce kiss. “I love you. Everything will be all right,” he whispers.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
And then he’s gone, running toward the village, and a moment later, the huge basilisk rises into the sky.
Wind booms off his wings, and snow swirls past my face.
I pull the children close, urging them down the path, every step agony as Zayne flies straight into danger. My mum and dad are standing in front of the door, staring toward the village, but they turn when they hear us. My mother’s eyes widen, and she runs down the steps.
“Oh, God, you did it. You found them.”
“Here, take Chloe,” I say, handing her the six-year-old girl I have in my arms. “I’ve got to get to the village. Help Zayne.”
“I’ll drive you,” my dad says.
I nod.
“I’m coming too,” Josh says.
“And Grimlet is coming.”
I want to say it’s no place for an eight-year-old—or a tiny gargoyle—but I know I won’t stop them.
We all bundle into the truck, and he’s away, racing down the snowy road to Elderfell.
The vehicle screeches to a halt in the village square, and we all tumble out. I take in the villagers huddled at the far end, one man yelling, another kneeling in the snow, pressing a scarf to a wound. Half the village seems to be on fire. Then I look up.
The Hunter hovers on vast black wings, half centaur, half nightmare.
His huge horse’s body gleams like ice carved from obsidian, his upper torso human only in outline—horns curling from his skull, eyes burning white as frost-fire.
His presence presses against me like a storm, and I choke back a gasp.
A scream of challenge fills the air, and there he is.
Zayne.
Or not Zayne—Raze.
The basilisk soars above the church steeple, emerald and sapphire scales flashing in the firelight of burning houses, wings snapping wide enough to blot out the stars. His roar shakes the night, and Khazim answers with one of his own, shrill and cold.
I can’t breathe.
The square below is chaos—people scattering, the Christmas tree crashing to the ground, ornaments shattering like glass rain. But all I see is Zayne fighting, the beast inside him unleashed.
They slam together midair—talons to hooves, flame to ice—and the shockwave punches my ribs. Khazim scores him—three black tears across Raze’s side. Blood steams, crystallizes, falls like glittering ash.
“Should we help?” Josh pants beside me, eyes wide.
I raise my hands, magic prickling hot through my veins.
But as I watch, I realize I don’t need to help.
Zayne doesn’t need my magic. He’s got this.
The bond between Zayne and his basilisk thrums so strong, so sure, it drowns out even my fear.
He’s not losing control. He’s not the angry boy I once knew. He’s a weapon, honed, unstoppable.
Khazim lashes out with a barbed spear of ice, catching Raze along the flank. My heart stops—until Raze surges higher, wings pumping, and dives, jaws wide. His fangs sink into Khazim’s shoulder. Fire pours from his mouth, wrapping the Hunter in a torrent of burning light.
Khazim screams. The sound splits the night, rattles the windows. But then it shatters, broken, silenced. His body twists, writhes—and crumbles into shards of black ice that rain down across the square.
The scream cuts off. The wind forgets to breathe. Then the square exhales.
Raze hovers, chest heaving, before he throws back his head and roars his triumph. The sound isn’t just victory. It’s freedom.
And I know then—I don’t have to save him. Not this time. He’s saved us all.
I race forward as he lands in the snow, his form shifting back, scales dissolving, wings folding into nothing until it’s just Zayne standing there. Silver-eyed, bloodied, magnificent. Mine.
I don’t stop running until I’m in his arms.