Chapter 24
KELAN
We move stealthily through the trees, yet our presence is unmistakable. Tension builds with each step. Fire gathers within me, prepared to ignite.
Ronyn leads the western flank with Robert, while Darial and Evan take the east, both composed and strategic. I advance through the center with Aura behind Hunter and myself. Aura moves silently, her fur cape inadequate for the cold, her breath shallow as if suppressing a scream.
The camp is near, its heat seeping into the night. Wolves patrol in human form, focused only on their laughter and bravado. Fear lingers in the air, mingled with decay and unchecked dominance. This place is ruled by force rather than honor.
My dragon growls low in my chest. This is a bad place. Much evil has been carried out here. Even the trees recoil from it, as though the land itself remembers every atrocity.
We reach the crude outer wall; logs lashed together without skill. This barrier was built by those who haven’t truly expected to face resistance or challenge.
I nod to Hunter and crouch, eyes glowing as I scan for movement.
A man emerges, carrying a child with red curls, much like Aura’s had been before her mating transition.
The child is scrambling in his arms and pushing against his chest with her hands.
She wails, and Aura stumbles forward, but I catch her wrist before she gives us away.
Her pulse surges, desperate and wild under my palm.
“Wait,” I whisper.
Her gaze remains fixed on the man and her daughter. She trembles, caught between desperation and restraint, power building beneath her skin. Across the camp, two wolves guard an old shed, likely where Hunter’s friends are held.
“Distraction,” I growl to Hunter.
He nods. Moments later, Evan and Robert burst through the underbrush, snarling. The guards, initially stunned, react quickly, shifting forms with urgency.
I leap free and shift partly, letting out a controlled burst of fire that slashes through the dirt like molten teeth. The ground hisses and glows, lighting the clearing in violence.
The guards scream and stagger back, one still clutching the child who cries out.
Aura screams, a sound that rips through every part of me, and runs toward the child, but I reach the guard first. In one brutal motion, I twist with dragon strength. His neck snaps like dry wood. He crumples, body slack as Ahya falls forward into my arms.
Aura reaches for the child as the man falls. The child is small, her eyes swollen with tears.
Aura trembles as she holds her child. “She’s cold, Kelan.” She prepares to hand her back when chaos erupts in the camp.
A howl, raw and furious, tears through the darkness. Then another. Then dozens of wolves pour from tents, some shifting forms, all driven by rage and fear. The compound descends into chaos.
Two figures push through the crowd with distinct confidence. One is broad-shouldered, with a scarred face and a predatory grin. The other is lean and feral, his wolf eyes sharp with hunger.
They head directly toward her.
Aura stiffens beside me. “That’s them,” she gasps. “Kelan… that’s them.”
The larger one laughs, a low, satisfied rumble. “Missed you, little rabbit,” he calls. “You run real pretty. Makes the catch sweeter.” He drags his tongue slowly over his teeth as if tasting the memory.
The wolf circles, head tilted, nostrils flaring as he drinks in her scent. “Told you we’d find you again,” he murmurs, daring to step closer than any creature should ever get to her again. “Told you the chase wasn’t over.”
Aura recoils as if burned.
A deep, violent instinct awakens within me.
I don’t know their names.
Her trembling and their possessive stares are reason enough.
My wings unfurl.
Fire roars from my throat in a white-hot torrent that forces them apart. The bear staggers back, cursing, fur already rippling across his shoulders. The wolf drops low, teeth bared, eyes bright with delighted cruelty.
“Careful,” the wolf taunts. “You’ll scorch what’s left of her.”
The bear cracks his neck. “Doesn’t matter,” he growls. “We’ll take her back in pieces if we have to.” He shifts fully, towering, grotesque, his power thick and brutal. Aura’s voice cuts through the noise.
Rage overwhelms my senses.
He lunges.
I intercept him mid-air, claws striking his chest with enough force to dent the ground. Bones break and blood sprays. He howls and lunges for my throat, but I shift fully, no longer holding back.
The wolf attacks from the side, claws tearing the ground. Ronyn intercepts him, snarling as scarlet flame meets brute force. They collide in a clash of scale and fur.
The bear tries to scramble free beneath me.
Fire floods my throat and into his chest at point-blank range. His laugh turns into a scream that cuts off in a wet, final choke. When I release him, there’s nothing left in his eyes but ash.
Across the clearing, the wolf roars in anger and grief, attacking Ronyn wildly. He is strong, but not a dragon.
Darial descends from above, golden fire sweeping across the tents. Canvas and flesh ignite in the blaze.
Ronyn is a whirlwind of anger, a blur of scarlet scales and snapping claws. He destroys the ground, his teeth and fury ripping apart anything that comes close.
I let go of a river of fire.
Flesh rips, screams echo, and fire falls.
Aura clutches her daughter tightly, her eyes wide and streaming with tears. Her runes glow in gold, silver, and scarlet, illuminating her skin.
Even as I fight, the air vibrates.
Power hums. Magic rises.
I turn to find Aura glowing. Her hair lifts as if in a current, and wind swirls around her, sending leaves and dirt into spirals.
How is this possible? Her magic was contained, yet it now escapes.
No! I shout internally. Aura, do not—
She steps forward, lifting her hand, and a pulse of raw magic explodes from her body, throwing back wolves mid-leap. The earth buckles beneath its force. Wolves are tossed into the air like ragdolls. Tents collapse in. Bodies are flung backward as though struck by a battering ram.
The child doesn’t cry. She’s wrapped in magic and protected by a glowing cocoon of safety.
I sense it: Aura’s power is uncontrolled, driven by the desperation, love, and fear within our human mate.
I land in front of her, trying to get closer with a roar that shakes the canopy.
But her magic is unrelenting.
It sweeps through the clearing like a storm, flattening wolves and bears. Her eyes are as gray as winter, and lightning flickers above, reflecting the runes on her skin. She is powerful.
She is burning herself out.
Darial yells something I can’t hear. Ronyn is at her side, bellowing her name.
We could end it in a single exhalation of flame. We could burn her and the magic rather than contain it. But she is our mate and hurting her to fulfill our oath would destroy us all.
Our dragon hearts recoil at the thought.
Then she stops, the magic dying with a whisper. Smoke rises around us as Aura drops to her knees, the child clutched to her chest as though she’s shielding her own heart from the world.
The surviving wolves howl as they flee, unwilling or unable to fight a force they can’t comprehend.
The forest itself seems to shudder.
Hunter, now in human form, leads three men and a woman from the shed. Their faces are bloodied but relieved. “The twins?” the woman asks as she moves forward.
“They’re safe with Caleb,” Hunter says.
Victory is ours.
Yet fear surges within me.
Aura freed her magic from the binds we secured it with.
She used her magic, and now she is at risk from those who would seek to claim her power.
We are sworn to contain magic by any means necessary. Our power has failed to restrain hers. Only one option remains, and it is unthinkable.
Ronyn kneels beside Aura. Darial lands behind me, his claws flexing in the dirt, his dragon jaw tight.
I return to human form and move forward.
“Aura,” I snarl.
She looks up, tears on her cheeks. “She was going to die. I had to—”
“How? We told you the dangers—”
“I had to.”
Darial shifts, his golden scales twisting back into human flesh. “I don’t understand. The magic was bound.”
The woman, likely Scarlet, rushes forward at the sight of the child in Aura’s arms. She sobs, falling to her knees with arms outstretched. Her red hair is matted and her sweater torn. “Ahya. She’s—” Scarlet’s voice trembles.
Aura freezes.
She remains motionless for a moment, focused solely on the child in her arms. Smoke and blood linger in the clearing, but nothing else matters.
Aura’s fingers tremble as she touches Ahya’s curls, memorizing every detail. Tears stream down her cheeks onto the child’s brow.
“I’m here,” she whispers, voice breaking. “I’m here.”
The words seem to undo her.
She presses her forehead gently to Ahya’s, breathing her in like she’s trying to store the sensation forever. Her shoulders shake. Her magic flickers faintly, gold, and protective, wrapping mother and child in a soft, luminous hush.
Scarlet remains kneeling, arms still outstretched, but no longer demanding. Waiting. Afraid to hope.
Aura looks up, her eyes reflecting a blend of love and grief.
“She needs you,” Aura says, her voice hoarse. “She needs stability, a safe home, and a family where she belongs.”
Scarlet shakes her head, tears falling freely. “You’re her mother, too.”
Aura swallows, struggling with emotion.
“I gave her life,” she says quietly. “You gave her safety and love.”
Aura traces Ahya’s cheek one last time. The child’s fingers tangle in Aura’s hair, instinctively holding on. “Mama,” she says.
That nearly breaks her. Aura kisses her child’s brow, lingering as if reconsidering. She whispers words too soft to hear: blessing, apology, promise, and prayer.
With a sound between a sob and surrender, she gently places Ahya in Scarlet’s arms.
Tears leave wet trails over Aura’s cheeks as she stands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. She turns and disappears into the trees.
We must leave soon and determine how to contain her magic. No other options remain. My mind races through impossible solutions, anxiety rising.
Hunter, Robert, and Evan embrace their rescued friends, gathering around the child in Scarlet’s arms. I'm grateful we could reunite the family and bring Aura some peace.
I stalk forward, expecting to find her close by.
Ready to offer comfort, or fury, or anything Aura needs.
But the air is thick with wet dirt and smoke, scorched pine and spilled blood, everything sharp and acrid and wrong.
There is no trace of the warm, honeyed scent that clings to her skin.
No whisper of jasmine. No soft current of her magic humming beneath my senses like a second heartbeat.
Nothing.
The absence is louder than any scream.
“Aura,” I bellow into the darkness, my voice tearing through the clearing.
Startled birds explode upward, wings thrashing against the lightening sky. The first grey of dawn bleeds through the canopy, washing the destruction in a pale, merciless glow, but our mate remains silent.
I strain for a sound, a breath, a prickle of magic, but nothing reaches me. My heart clenches so violently it burns like a physical wound. Dragons don’t panic easily. We don’t lose control.
But separation from our mate when danger is close feels like the echo of a bond suddenly broken.
I close my eyes and reach inward, searching for the thread that ties me to her. That luminous strand that has tethered me to her in battle, in sleep, in silence.
Only distance between us remains cold and vast.
She’s gone, I growl.
Ronyn’s head snaps toward me, eyes blazing. Darial goes utterly still, as if the world itself has paused.
She’s gone, I repeat, more quietly now, dread settling heavy in my chest. And we must find her.
Because if someone has taken her—
If another has touched what is ours—
We won’t rest until she is found, no matter what the cost.