Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
Ashe!
Zander’s voice crashed into my mind like a breaking wave, startling me so hard I almost loosened my grip on the saddle.
How are you still able to speak with me? I shot back, breathless.
I think it’s because we have a blood oath, he said quickly, his mental tone piercing but steady. Our connection isn’t solely because our dragons are mated.
My heart pounded as the ground loomed closer. What do we do?
Do you have any idea what that spell was?
I grit my teeth, still trying to push even a flicker of magic toward Kaelith. Some kind of disruption spell. I’m sure it’s temporary, and it took a lot out of Severeth, or she would have done another to take the rest of the squad. It had limits.
I felt him thinking fast on the other end of the bond. Ferrula and most of Warborn were outside its radius, Zander said. I noticed that too.
Yeah, but more riders were hit than weren’t.
Any idea how we can disrupt its effects? he asked.
I swallowed, wishing I had an answer that didn’t feel like a gamble. I’m unsure… but Severeth doesn’t want me dead. She saved me up there.
A pause—suspicious. Why?
The question twisted in my gut because I had no answer. Not one I wanted to give voice to. I don’t know, I admitted, my eyes scanning the sky for her dark silhouette. But it’s never for anything good.
Any theories? We’re running out of time, Zander’s voice pressed into my mind, tight with urgency.
The wind tore through my hair as I forced my thoughts into some kind of order. Severeth says she needs me… she wants to overthrow Veralin. I know he wants me because he thinks I can make the black dragons fertile again, but I don’t see how that’s even possible.
The ground surged up beneath us, and Kaelith’s talons hit dirt with a jarring thud. Zander and Hein landed beside us almost instantly, their wings folding as the other dragons, dozens of them, settled in around us.
It was unsettling. The air was thick with the low, continuous growl of dragons, a sound that vibrated through the ground beneath my boots. Their tails lashed, eyes flashing like molten stone, but none of them moved to take off.
Zander… I glanced at the rows of scaled bodies, the uneasy shift of claws. I don’t think the dragons can communicate with each other either.
Zander swung down from Hein’s saddle in one fluid motion, striding to the big silver Clubtail’s head. He murmured something low, his palm pressed between the dragon’s eyes. Hein’s massive pupils contracted, then he nodded once… and shook his head.
Zander’s jaw was hard when he came back to me. “Hein is able to communicate with Kaelith, but not the others. He assumes it’s because of the mate bond.”
“So… we can talk to them, but they can’t answer us?”
“Only yes or no,” he said grimly, “with a nod or a head shake. So… yeah. That’s not great.”
I swallowed against the knot forming in my chest. “What do we do?”
Zander’s eyes swept the field, scanning the restless dragons and the riders who were looking to him for answers. “We figure out a way to break this spell before Severeth decides to come finish what she started.”
Cordelle, Naia, and Riven joined me as I slipped to the ground, the dirt crunching under my boots. The air smelled of dust, sweat, and the tang of dragon fire—though none of them dared unleash it now.
We formed a tight circle, voices low but urgent.
“We could try channeling our magic into the dragons,” Naia suggested, brushing a strand of sandy hair from her face. “Force the connection open again.”
“That could fry the bond entirely,” Riven countered, arms crossed, her silver Striker Lola pacing restlessly behind her. “If the disruption is magical in nature, shoving more magic at it could just… burn it out.”
“Maybe we split the riders from the dragons and try a different approach?” Naia offered.
“That’s not any better,” Riven said with a quick shake of her head. “We’d be fighting without them while they’re vulnerable.”
I sighed, frustration knotting in my gut. Every suggestion sounded good for half a heartbeat before turning to ash.
Cordelle shifted beside me, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wish Kass could help me. My dragon is so much better with magic than I am.”
I froze mid-breath, my gaze snapping to him. That’s it.
Turning to Kaelith, I spoke to her, holding her gaze. “Do you know how to break the spell?”
She nodded once.
“Do I have the magic to do it?”
Another nod… then a shake of her massive head.
I blinked. “Which is it?”
She did it again—one nod, one shake.
Riven frowned, tilting her head. “Maybe she means yes and no.”
My mind started racing. That meant I could do it—but I needed her help. Or maybe… the help of the others.
We worked through the theory fast, too fast, maybe, but every second we lingered here, the bond between rider and dragon stayed frayed.
“If you can’t get the power from Kaelith directly,” Naia said, her blue eyes scanning the restless dragons, “then you’ll need to take it from someone else.”
“Easier said than done,” I muttered. “Siphoning is… messy. And none of you have the kind of magic Kaelith and I share.”
Still, I tried—reaching out to Cordelle first, then Naia, then Riven. The threads between us sparked lightly and died just as quickly, like a candle snuffed before it could catch.
But when I reached for Zander… my magic met his like a rushing tide, pulling at the molten heat and shadow that lived inside him. The bond flared between us, raw and alive.
Riven narrowed her eyes. “So… if Kaelith can’t feed you power right now, Zander can? That’s what we’re talking about here?”
“Looks like it,” I said, still holding that tenuous thread.
Zander’s mouth curved in a grim half-smile. “I have enough to give you, but I’ll be weakened.”
Riven drew her sword without hesitation, the steel catching what little light there was. “Then I’m down for being your bodyguard. I mean, you are the king and all.”
Zander gave her a wry look. “I appreciate your patriotism.”
A few chuckles broke the tension, but my gaze shifted to the sky, and my blood went cold.
The dragons above were under siege, swarmed by Blood Fae riders.
One rider from Warborn tumbled from his mount, arms flailing. No member of his squad was close enough to save him.
His scream tore through the air, until it ended in a sickening, abrupt silence when he hit the ground.
I met Zander’s gaze, my pulse pounding in my ears. “We have to do this. Now.”
He nodded once, no hesitation, just the reality of understanding, and stepped closer. His hand closed around mine, rough and warm despite the chill rolling over the battlefield.
I closed my eyes and reached for our bond, not the thin, tenuous tether of dragon-mates, but the deeper, unshakable one forged in blood and choice. It was there, waiting, like a locked door I’d always known existed but never dared open.
The moment I turned the key, it slammed into me.
Zander’s magic surged forward—Dark Fire, molten and heavy, laced with an undertow of shadow so deep it pulled at the edges of my mind. It coiled around me in hot, living streams, seeking my storm magic as if it had always known where it belonged.
I felt the collision when they met, fire and lightning snapping together, sparking wildly. The attraction was undeniable, each force feeding the other, building higher and higher until my knees buckled.
Zander went pale, the fine muscles in his jaw tight, but he remained upright, his hand tightening on mine as if daring me to let go.
My body shook, every muscle straining as the power filled me—more than Kaelith had ever given at once. I felt like a fragile container brimming to the top, liquid magic sloshing against the edges, desperate to spill over.
The storm inside me roared, hungry, waiting for me to unleash it.
The others instinctively stepped back, the air around me crackling with an electric hiss.
“Ashe,” Riven said slowly, her tone halfway between awe and alarm, “your eyes are glowing like fireflies in the night.”
Cordelle’s gaze dropped to my hand locked in Zander’s. “So are her veins,” he murmured, voice tight. “If she doesn’t release it soon, she won’t survive.”
“Not yet,” I ground out, the words vibrating in my throat from the magic pressing against it. “We have to make sure she doesn’t do it again.”
The magic inside me was a writhing storm, snapping and twisting like a living thing desperate to break free.
I forced my will around it, bending its flow, redirecting it in ways that made my entire body shudder.
The heat was unbearable, lightning dancing beneath my skin, every nerve ending screaming in protest.
I knew I was standing on the precipice of death; one wrong breath, one moment of weakness, and the magic would consume me from the inside out.
Still, I didn’t let go. Not until my vision warped and fractured, the edges of the world bleeding away in streaks of white-blue, and my limbs felt like they were being wrenched apart at the joints.
The pain ripped a scream from me, raw and unrestrained, and the air trembled with its echo.