Chapter 26 #2
Thorne cursed, hopped on one foot as he yanked his pants up, and charged for the door. I barely managed to settle my shift over my bare skin before I tore after him into the corridor.
Another bellow cracked like lightning, rumbling through my bones.
“Where’s it coming from?”
“Hold on.” He held up his finger while his dragonflame glowed. “This way.” He raced down the hallway we’d used when entering his royal suite.
The air thickened as we neared the throne room. Shadows pooled in the corners, as if something ancient and malevolent had been unleashed. A heaviness bore down on me, my legs like stone, and I dragged them forward. An icy presence lingered behind those doors. Hungry. Consuming.
I’d sensed it once before.
Another roar—ragged, raw—rippled through the space, and I hesitated at the sound.
“Thorne, wait. There’s something—”
I reached for his shoulder. Too late.
He burst inside, and I stumbled in after him.
And froze.
Alaric lay sprawled before the dais, his massive form writhing. His muscles spasmed, claws gouging deep into the stone. His craggy face twisted in agony. A tortured beast, barely clinging to sanity.
I shivered as an icy chill scraped down my spine. His snarls were more than pain—they were the sound of the damned being torn apart. Shadows pooled, dark and oily, as if they fed on his suffering. Which was crazy. I had to be seeing things.
“Stay back,” Thorne ordered as the dragon’s deadly tail whipped through the air. It cracked against the floor, leaving fractures in its wake.
“Do you think the hunters…” I grasped the arm Thorne had thrust out to block me.
“I don’t smell blood—only brimstone.” He shook his head, expression grim. “Wait here.”
Thorne raced down the steps of the dais to his brother’s side. “Alaric! What’s happened?” His question was firm, commanding, but threaded with something that made me ache for him. Fear.
“Bones…shattered.” The dragon’s voice was a jagged rasp, thick with torment. “Scales…incinerating. So much pain!” he snarled, shooting fire as he roared.
Flames blasted up the atrium walls, and the cobwebs ignited. The effect was as though hell itself sought to consume the dragon.
Shoving aside the urge to run, to hide, I darted across the platform and down the steps, stopping at Thorne’s side.
He turned to me with tears glistening in his eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”
The panic I witnessed in him shattered my heart. No matter their differences or history, Thorne genuinely cared for his brother.
“Let me try.” I moved before I could second-guess myself, sinking to my knees before Alaric’s enormous head. Carefully, I pressed my hands against his muzzle.
That simple contact washed an icy chill over me. For Thorne, for Alaric, I would not pull back. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. If I could just reach my magic.
Darkness rolled over me in a wave. Thick and menacing, it shoved me beneath its surface. My lungs squeezed, pressure thrusting down on my chest. I was sinking.
“No!” I stumbled away.
“What happened?” Thorne grasped my upper arms, holding me upright.
I met his wide-eyed alarm. “I…don’t know. It felt…like… Death.”
The dragon’s legs contorted. His muscles spasmed. “He’s seizing,” Thorne cried out, dragging me to a safer distance.
Light exploded. The impact reverberated through our bodies. The force of it rattled my skull, sending us reeling.
Flames encompassed the dragon’s body.
“Alaric!” I raised my arms to shield my face from the sweltering heat, watching in horror as the inferno swallowed the writhing beast.
“Hathor’s curse,” Thorne choked out. “After all this time, it’s finally consuming him.”
The anguish and defeat in his expression threatened to split my heart in two. He circled his arms around my back, and we clung to each other, our grip tightening with every cry Alaric unleashed.
The smell of charred bone and sulfur filled the air.
Alaric was burning to death. Could Hathor’s vengeance really be this cruel?
As the thundering of the flames quieted, a high-pitched keening rang in my ears.
“Alaric?” Thorne’s voice was a whisper, taut with fear.
I braced myself and turned to face the dragon’s ruin. The proud beast who had once towered before us now lay reduced to a mountain of ash. My hand flew to my mouth, eyes stinging as tears threatened.
“He’s… He’s…gone.” A silent sob wracked Thorne’s body.
I circled my arm around his waist and squeezed. “I’m so sorry.”
“I was too late. I failed him,” Thorne choked out.
Alaric's death left us both in a state of frozen shock. It was the cruel punishment of a goddess who had no mercy.
And then, through the silence…
A groan.
My heart slammed against my ribs. That hadn’t come from me or Thorne.
The mound of ash shifted, caving in. Impossibly, a blackened hand thrust free. Another followed, clawing upward.
The mountain of death cracked open, and from its center rose not a beast, but a man.
“Alaric!” Thorne shouted, lunging forward.
We rushed to the pile of cinders.
“Brother?” The voice that rang out was hoarse, broken, but alive.
“I’m here!” Thorne cried, digging through the mound. He grasped the figure buried beneath and dragged him into the light.
I dropped to my knees and cradled the man’s head in my lap. Hands shaking, Thorne wiped soot from his body, revealing pale, unmarred skin. From under the grime, a familiar face emerged. One I’d only ever seen carved in stone, stitched in banners, immortalized in fading paint.
The face of King Alaric Blackwing.
“How is this possible?” My voice trembled with shock.
“You’re back.” Thorne patted along his brother’s limbs, as though he didn’t believe the image before him was real.
“I’m back?” Alaric croaked, lifting his arms. Eyes rounded, he stared at his hands as if seeing them for the first time.
“Sit me up,” he commanded as only a king could. “I need to see.”
Thorne supported his shoulders, guiding him into a sitting position. Once upright, Alaric ran his hands down his thighs, gaping at his legs. “It worked. Help me stand.” He set a hand on Thorne’s shoulder.
“Now, hold on. Maybe you should take things slow for a…” I trailed off because neither of the men was listening, Thorne already pulling Alaric upright.
“Hang onto him.” I scrambled to my feet and tucked beneath his other side.
He wobbled but held his weight, wonder lighting his face.
“What did you do?” Thorne asked, words thick with emotion. “When I couldn’t find you, I feared the worse. You return, and this happens.” He swept a hand toward his brother’s fully human form. “How? Who did this?”
Alaric turned to me, gratitude blazing. “Serafina.”
“Me?” I blinked.
He released Thorne and faced me, gripping my shoulders. “You did it, Serafina. You broke my curse.”
I stared, mouth gaping. “But I—”
“I’ve been unwell since the blast of energy you hit me with during training. I feared to say anything, not daring to hope, but something in your magic changed me that day. You broke the curse. It simply took time.”
My mind spun, disbelief fogging my thoughts. No way had I accomplished such a miracle. Especially not by accident. The memory of that suffocating void I’d sensed gnawed at me. What if this rebirth had come at some dark cost?
“You really think—”
Alaric’s mouth crashed into mine.
Shock splintered through my brain. Somewhere behind me, a low, dangerous growl rumbled.
One hand gripped the back of my head, his powerful arm wrapping around my waist. The heat of his nude body branded me through the thin shift I’d donned. Holy hell. This was no friendly kiss of thanks, but that of a king staking his claim.
When his tongue demanded entrance to the private recesses of my mouth, the ice that had locked me in place melted in an instant. I wedged my arms between us, pushing the newly shifted Draconis aside. Blessedly, he released me.
“Apologies,” he said, shameless smile curving his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.”
I patted his shoulder, taking a step back—two, just to be safe. “Quite alright.” If I hadn’t kissed anyone in centuries, I’d get a bit carried away as well.
Thorne appeared at his brother’s side, and I caught the flash of murder in his eyes before it melted into concern. “How about we get you to the bathing chamber and find you some clothes?”
“Clothes,” Alaric barked, delight sparking across his soot-streaked face. “It’s been ages since I’ve worn clothes. Or sat in a chair. Drank from a cup. Read a book. Held a sword.”
I forced a smile at his joy, though the memory of that cold, suffocating void clung to me. For all his eagerness, something whispered that not everything about this miracle was right.