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“Victor,” I gasped.

The vampire stood beneath the full force of the dragon’s flames. Body braced. Hands fisted.

Horror washed through me.

“No,” I cried. Despite the unbearable heat, I didn’t dare look away, raising my hand to shield my vision.

Instead of collapsing, he held steady beneath the dragon’s fiery assault. His muscular form was an immovable boulder in a raging river. His clothing incinerated in an instant, turning to ash, exposing his body. Rather than blister, Custodis’s skin fractured like broken ice across a frozen pond.

I gaped at the sight. What was happening?

Blinding light shone through the cracks in his exposed flesh,and his golden eyes glowed with a fiery brilliance. Curling strands of silver hair whirled around his head. The effect made him appear like some avenging god. Splaying his hands, Custodis arched his back, tipped his face to the sky, and roared at the sun.

Energy exploded.

The wave slammed into me, and the force threatened to shatter my bones. Every object, every creature, every person in the immediate vicinity hit the ground. My frantic pulse pounded in my ringing head. There was no possible way he’d survived that blast. How could this happen?

I coughed debris from my throat and peered through a cloud of dust. Standing at the center of the blast circle was Custodis.

Gone was the tightly wound vampire lord. In his place stood a fierce golden warrior. He was like some imposing mystical entity, finally released from an eternity in prison. Formidable. Commanding.

Ready for war.

Energy electrified the atmosphere. Every inch of his flawless body glowed with an eternal light.

A divine light.

Silence reigned. Nothing stirred. Even the air seemed afraid to move.

Then, slowly, one by one, voices rang out.

“It’s him.”

“Our king has risen.”

“The chosen one.”

“The prophecy is true.”

Those low murmurs started to chatter like a buzz of insects.

I gawked at my vampire. No, I refused to believe it. The male I’d captured, fought beside, argued with,slept with,couldn’t be divine. This was Idris’s work. A fictional spectacle meant to entertain the masses.

Seeming unaffected by the chaos surrounding him, Victorpeered back at the roaring spectators. His expression was an emotionless void. Lord Custodis had checked out. Who remained was a mystery.

“Victor?” My voice emerged a rasping croak.

His glowing gaze slid to my sprawled form, and he scanned my body with little recognition.

“Victor,” I tried again. “It’s Runa. Are you okay?”

Gah! What a stupid question. He was definitely not okay.

His eyes darted to something behind me, then narrowed. I turned as well.

Slicing through the mayhem, one lone figure dashed across the pit, dodging dazed, unmoving obstacles.

“Now, you spell-casting bastards! Do it now!” Thorne shouted at the stands, sprinting past both myself, then Custodis, only to leap onto the dragon’s back.