Chapter 28

What woke her was someone throwing her down onto hard stone.

It tore her out of the dark as her cheek scraped against carved grooves.

Her mind latched onto that single detail.

Throne room. She knew the pattern.

“DON’T TOUCH HER!” Dex’s voice roared through the haze, furious and feral.

More voices followed, all muffled, like they were under water.

She was caught between consciousness and not, drifting in and out. Her body felt heavy, distant, slow to respond. Silver burned into her skin where the cuffs bit deep.

A boot caught her ribs, kicking her flat onto her back.

Her arm flared, pain detonating so violently it stole what little breath she had.

A roar thundered in the distance. Velkaris.

Even through the fog clouding her mind, the connection snapped tight.

He wanted to help her. She felt him and knew he did.

Heat formed around her hands, melting the silver cuffs wrapped around her wrists. The metal hissed, dripping to the floor in molten ribbons.

Her senses were still dulled, ears ringing, but her vision sharpened. The throne room came into focus.

Still laying on the floor, she turned her head toward noises. She saw there were many people cuffed. But Dexmon is what her vision narrowed to.

Silver chains wrapped around his wrists, neck, chest, and legs, searing flesh. His eyes were on her, face full of concern.

Serena wanted to sit up and move to him, but her body wasn’t cooperating.

A sword lifted and came down in one clean swoop. A head rolled across the ground.

Voices shouted.

“WHERE ARE HER CUFFS p>

“THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE p>

“KILL HER. NOW p>

A figure moved towards her. She was aware enough to know she should be afraid, but she felt like a spectator, watching herself.

He swing for her.

Serena rolled to her side, the blade missing her by an inch, and she drove her heel into his crotch. Hard.

She tried to move away, but her body was delayed.

The attacker swung his blade again straight for her neck. She watched herself catch it with both hands by some miracle.

He pressed it towards her with his full body weight. Her hands bled and arms shook, pushing against him.

A high-pitched, blood-curdling scream tore through the air. Only when she felt the vibration in her chest did she realize it was her own. The mark on her arm seared hot at that exact moment.

You would think she would be used to that pain by now, but she was not.

The man shrieked as the sword glowed white-hot, the metal searing his palms. He hissed and let it clatter to the stone, lunging instead for her throat.

His fingers clamped down, cutting off her air. Serena clawed at his wrists, but he was a mountain of immovable strength. The world began to dim, the edges of her vision fraying into gray as she slipped toward the void.

Then, a fresh agony jolted her back. Her forearm boiled, the heat so intense it dragged her screaming back to awareness.

The pressure vanished as he let go, his voice rising in a disturbing, rhythmic cadence of agony.

Serena’s throat felt like crushed glass. A desperate, wet wheeze was the only sound she could make until it broke into a fit of jagged, choking coughs. Each gasp was a battle, a slow and painful conquest as air finally forced its way back into her burning lungs.

The roar in her ears faded to a dull hum, her consciousness sharpened. The fact flames licked her skin was impossible to ignore now.

Fire dancing across her knuckles in mesmerizing orange curls.

My hand is on fire. She stared it with mild curiosity, like it was happening to someone else.

Another masked attacker ran into the room, sword drawn.

Still laying flat, she raised her hand. Not guided this time. No, she finally understood how this worked.

A power-shot of flame burst from her palm, hitting the man.

He screamed in agony. She barely heard it.

More masked figures rushed the room, pausing at the sight of her. To them, she was a corpse in the making, dead and burning.

They were mistaken.

Before they could raise their blades, fire found them too.

Then a vibration hummed against her finger, and she knew it was the ring Dex had given her.

Without glancing at it, she slid it off, letting instinct guide her. A familiar warm sensation flooded her senses, almost like she’d done this before and was meeting a familiar, old friend.

The ring rolled on its own.

Across the throne room, Hyran watched as it rolled into flames from a burning body.

In the flames, molten metal rose and twisted, spiraling upward into a dragon.

The molten dragon slammed fire into the other attackers, moving with purpose.

More entered, and the dragon killed them on sight.

After a few minutes, once every attacker was reduced to ash, it collapsed back into itself and reformed into a ring, dropping next to Serena.

The ring stayed where it was. She was unable to reach for it and the ceiling spun in slow, nauseating circles. Darkness tugged at the edges of her mind, dragging her under, then spitting her back out.

A voice slid into her mind.

Hyran: Serena. Channel into Dex.

Serena did not respond. She wanted to but everything felt distant, like the world was slightly out of reach.

Dex: Serena, I am here. But I am cuffed and cannot get to you, baby. Try what Hyran said. Channel into me.

She heard him. She opened her eyes.

Then Hyran’s presence slid back into her mind. Not gentle.

Hyran: Serena. Focus.

This was his coaching voice. She knew it well. He didn’t coddle.

Hyran: Find that energy inside you and focus on your matebond. It will go on its own.

She did feel it. A new energy humming inside her, deep and hot. It was where the flames came from.

There was no need for it to go on its own.

She shoved it.

A molten dragon appeared in her peripheral vision. Dex’s ring.

Hyran: Yes. Channel to King Tiberon now.

Shouts erupted from the corners of the room, muffled and distorted as if through thick glass.

Hyran: Tiberon’s energy is identical to Dex’s. He is next to Dex in this room. Identify. Push. Do not think.

By the time he finished the mindlink, she was already channeling into Tiberon, along with Hyran, Hale, Alaric, and Gavriel. She could somehow sense that they were able to take it.

They did.

More commotion broke out in the throne room. Wolves shifted. Swords clanked. Commands were given.

Hyran: Exactly like that. Do not stop.

Everything else was muffled, distant, but Hyran’s mindlink was clear.

Only then did she realize she was lying across three throne steps, diagonal, her body at an awkward angle.

Have I been here the whole time? She wondered to herself.

She blinked and stared up at the ceiling again, dizzy.

She noticed she’d been pressing her hand to her stomach. She lifted her hand and saw blood.

A lot of it.

Red and gold, old and new, slicking her palm and fingers.

A wave of nausea rolled through her. Then chills. Her arm still felt like it was on fire, but her body shivered uncontrollably.

Only then did she register her breathing.

It was wrong. Desperate, uneven gasps that would not fill her lungs no matter how hard she tried.

But it wasn’t her windpipe from earlier. This was different. The stab wound from Elara did not just tear open, it was worse than before. She felt something else on the other side of her chest. Was she stabbed twice?

Panic fluttered sharp in her chest.

Hyran: Serena, you’re losing consciousness. Focus. You are not finished.

She opened her eyes to see a second figure hovering over her. A healer pushed magic into her, and a soothing warmth spread throughout her body. Her wounds closed, bruises softened and head stopped pounding.

She took a full breath. The first real one in what felt like hours.

Arms went around her, lips on hers. Dex.