Wind tore past my ears in a shriek. My enormous wings beat the air in frantic, thunderous strokes, each one jarring through my spine. Clouds ripped open around us as we shot through them, cold mist smearing across my face.
We didn't stop until the world below us was nothing but streaks of shattered stone and distant mountains.
Tadewi flew until even her wings trembled, and only then did she land in a clearing carved by wind centuries before.
The moment we touched the ground, Revik jumped off my back and I shifted back to human. Tadewi shifted beside me, her orange scales collapsing into flesh and hair and shaking breaths.
The world didn't feel real anymore.
But all of it felt far away.
Muted.
Like hearing through water.
My mind kept replaying the last thing I saw before everything went white—
Raiden's eyes.
Not blue.
Not warm.
Not his.
Red.
Empty.
Wrong.
And then the feeling of his hands around my throat, lifting me off the ground like I weighed nothing. The pressure, the choking, the betrayal carved into my bones.
And the worst part—
He didn't know me.
He didn't even recognize me.
The wind stung my eyes, but the tears burning there weren't from the cold.
For a few seconds, none of us spoke.
We were all breathing too hard.
Hurting too much.
Trying to understand something that couldn't be understood.
Revik was the one to break the silence first.
His voice wasn't gentle this time.
It was raw.
"What the hell happened?"
I flinched as though he'd struck me.
Tadewi shifted beside us in a burst of orange light, returning to her human form—hair windswept, cheeks streaked with soot and dried blood. She crossed her arms, not in judgment, but in pain.
"Mortimer has corrupted the Lightning Prince," she said grimly.
Revik stared at her.
Then he barked an ugly laugh, sharp as a snapped bone.
"Well, no shit," he spat. "I saw the glowing red eyes. But how? How in the blazing hells did it happen?"
His voice shot through me like a blade.
I opened my mouth.
A noise came out—small, broken.
Revik squinted at me. "Lyra?"
"It's my fault."
The words fell apart before they even left my lips.
Both of them stared at me.
"It's my fault," I repeated, louder, the sound cracking. "I—I wasn't strong enough—I—I let him—"
My voice collapsed into shivers.
"I let him save me."
Revik's expression folded. "Lyra—"
"He sacrificed himself," I choked. "Because I couldn't—because I wasn't—"
The rest dissolved into a sob.
My legs gave out fully this time. I hit my knees hard on the cold dirt. My hands curled into the soil as if I could hold myself to the world that way, because everything inside me felt like it was coming apart.
My sobbing wasn't quiet.
It ripped out of my chest in jagged gasps that hurt, each one sharp enough to bruise ribs. I couldn't breathe through it. Couldn't think. Couldn't stop it.
Tadewi knelt beside me and placed a gentle hand on the back of my head, her thumb stroking through my tangled white hair.
She didn't tell me to get up.
Didn't tell me to breathe.
Didn't tell me it wasn't my fault.
She just stayed with me.
That made me cry harder.
Revik made a sound—one that didn't sound like him, didn't sound like a warrior, didn't sound like a man who acted like the world couldn't touch him.
It sounded like grief.
Then he folded down onto the ground and pulled me into his arms. He wrapped them around me tight—steady, warm, grounding. My forehead hit his shoulder, and his hand came up to cradle the back of my head as I sobbed into him.
I felt something warm hit my cheek.
Another drop.
Not mine.
Revik was crying.
"Oh, Lovey," he whispered, voice shaking. "Stop—please stop. Don't do this to yourself."
But I couldn't.
The grief had been waiting too long.
It tore through me like a river finally breaking a dam.
My hands fisted in his shirt. My whole body shook. I couldn't breathe without hitching, couldn't speak without breaking.
Tadewi's hand remained steady on my back, wind curling in soft patterns to soothe the edge of my panic.
Eventually—slowly—the storm inside me lost strength. My sobs faded into ragged breaths. My muscles unclenched, exhaustion replacing agony.
After a long moment, Tadewi exhaled.
"Lyra," she murmured softly, "we must move."
I swallowed a sob and nodded, though everything in me felt raw and open like a wound.
"We need to reach my people," Tadewi continued. "The Skyguard will regroup at Skyreach's upper ridges. If we don't join them before nightfall, we risk losing more ground."
Her voice held urgency—but also compassion.
I wiped at my face with the back of my hand, though new tears blurred everything anyway. "Okay," I whispered.
Tadewi stepped closer. "You cannot shift right now."
I didn't even try to argue.
I couldn't feel my magic.
Couldn't feel the bond.
Couldn't feel Raiden.
A gaping hole throbbed where his presence used to be—where his lightning used to spark against mine. The absence felt like a broken bone lodged in my chest.
Revik squeezed my arm gently. "We ride together."
Tadewi shifted again, scales erupting over skin in a burst of roaring firelight until her massive dragon body stood before us. She lowered her wing slowly, creating a ramp.
Revik helped me climb first. My legs trembled with every step, and he stayed close, one hand on my back, steadying me until I reached the ridge of Tadewi's neck.
He climbed on behind me, securing his arm around my waist so I wouldn't fall.
Tadewi rumbled low—a sound almost like sympathy.
"Hold on," Revik murmured softly.
I gripped Tadewi's scales and leaned back against Revik's chest, letting his presence anchor the pieces of me that still felt like they were drifting.
The wind gathered around us, stirring dust and branches.
Tadewi spread her wings wide.
And with one powerful leap, she launched into the sky—carrying us away from the ruin behind us.
Away from the battlefield where Raiden fell.
Away from the man he used to be.
Away from everything I loved and just lost.
But not away from the war.
Not away from Mortimer.
Not away from the nightmare still waiting.
Tadewi climbed higher, the world shrinking to valleys and ravines beneath us. The wind whipped my hair back, cold and sharp, but I barely felt it. My chest ached too badly. My heart throbbed too loudly.
My own voice whispered in my head—
I couldn't save him.
Another whisper, softer—
I won't lose him.
Not forever.
Not like this.
Revik behind me, steadying me with one arm. Trying to remain strong, but even I could feel the tremors in his muscles—not fear, just the adrenaline crash after battle. Or maybe fear. For me. For Raiden. For all of us.
The wind howled around us as Tadewi carried us toward Skyreach, toward safety, toward the next impossible battle.
Tadewi dove lower, her shadow streaking across the valley floor, and finally slowed. She backwinged hard, sending gravel skittering, then dropped heavily to the ground.
When she crouched low, Revik slid off first, boots hitting the dirt with a dull thud. He turned immediately, arms lifted toward me.
I didn't move.
For one hollow heartbeat, I couldn't. My legs wouldn't respond, my hands stayed locked on Tadewi's scales. I just stared at Revik like I didn't know what he was or why he was there.
Then his voice broke through the fog.
Soft.
Unsteady.
"Come here, Lovey."
Something inside me cracked.
I let go and slid into his arms. My knees buckled the second my feet touched the ground, and he caught me before I hit the earth completely. He held me up, bracing me against his chest like I was something fragile that needed holding together.
Maybe I was.
But so much happened and I don't know what happens next.
I didn't know what waited for us.
But I knew one thing with absolute, burning certainty—
Mortimer had taken Raiden.
And I would burn the world to ash to get him back.