Page 140 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

“Ashe!” Cordelle’s shout cut through the fog, sharp and panicked. “You have to stop!”

I couldn’t. My magic wasn’t just churning—it wasreaching. The crackle of lightning vibrated through my bones, an unnatural hum filling the air. My breath came fast and ragged.

The room darkened—the sudden shadow of rain clouds swallowing the sunlight that had been streaming through the window just seconds ago. I swayed, fighting to stay grounded.

The first raindrop struck the roof above us—a sharppingthat grew into a steady, angry rhythm.

The air thickened with static. My hair rose at the roots, and my fingers twitched—tiny sparks dancing across my fingertips. The world tilted, and suddenly the shouts of my squad sharpened—frantic, urgent.

“Ashe, let it go!” Jax bellowed.

I couldn’t. The pressure inside me built, twisting like a knife in my gut. My skin burned, veins glowing faintly beneath my skin like molten gold. The searing pain ripped up my arm and across my chest, jagged and relentless.

I staggered, clutching at my ribs as if that would contain the fire spreading through me. My vision blurred, flashing white-hot.

Pain exploded, tearing through my body like lightning striking from the inside out. My knees buckled, and I hit the floor hard, my breath torn from my chest in a ragged gasp.

The thunder roared above me, and I heard nothing else—not the shouts, not the pounding rain, only the storm raging inside me.

Something solid pressed against my palm—cool and hard, biting into my skin. My wrist ached, pulled taut like someone had wrenched me back from the edge of a cliff. My magic surged, spiraling out of control, enough that Ifeltit clawing at the air, tugging at the energy around me like a vortex trying to devour everything.

You’re going to kill them.The realization hit me like a blow to the gut.

“Please,” I whispered, unsure if I was speaking to myself or my magic.

“Ashe, squeeze your hand!” The voice was faint, barely breaking through the storm in my head. Cordelle.

I obeyed—my fingers closed tightly around the object, hard enough that I felt something sharp tear into my palm. Warmth bloomed—blood slicking between my fingers—but with it came clarity. My magic shivered inside me, still restless but no longer raging. The burning in my chest eased—not all at once, but slowly, like floodwaters retreating after a storm.

I clutched the charm tighter, nails biting into my skin. The pain kept me grounded, kept me tethered. My breath slowed, the thrum of power finally dimming. It took minutes—long, agonizing minutes—before the room stopped spinning and the shadows receded.

The world sharpened, the familiar sight of my room coming back into focus. Everyone—Jax, Naia, Ferrula, Tae, Eilvin—stood pressed against the far wall, their faces pale with fear. Only Cordelle and Riven stood closer, just a few feet away.

Cordelle knelt in front of me, his face tense. “What happened?” I croaked, my throat raw.

“You lost control,” Cordelle said quietly. His eyes flicked to my hand. “But this... this stopped you.”

I glanced down, fingers slowly unfurling. The dragon charm Cordelle had given me was slick with blood. My palm was raw and angry, the deep grooves of my nails still imprinted in my skin.

“You lost control,” Riven whispered. Her face was still pale, but she stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder. “But you pulled it back, Ashe.”

I swallowed hard. “I almost didn’t.” My voice shook.

“But youdid,” Cordelle said. “That’s what matters.”

I looked at the faces of my squad—my family—and for the first time since my power had awakened, I wondered how much longer I could keep them safe... fromme.

Embarrassment coiled tight in my chest, making it hard to breathe. I’d let my emotions spiral because of Zander—because of the chaos he’d stirred inside me. My thoughts had been too clouded, too tangled, and now everyone had paid the price.

“I don’t know what to do,” I muttered, my voice hollow. “Kaelith isn’t answering me.”

“Is she mad?” Cordelle asked, stepping closer.

“No,” I sighed. “I don’t think so.” If anything, Kaelith had felt... distant. Not cold or resentful, but distracted—like something else was demanding her attention.

Cordelle moved back to his bunk, rummaging beneath it before pulling out another worn book. “I keep switching these with my father,” he explained. “Trying to find anything thatmight help you. But dragons tend to either accept you or reject you. This feels... different with Kaelith.”

“Different how?” Riven asked, sitting down on her bed as the rest of the squad quietly settled in.