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Kage remained silent throughout the ride, irritation simmering in his chest. He despised the closeness, the forced proximity to someone he barely knew.

He preferred solitude, the quiet sanctuary of his own space, where he did not have to endure another’s presence pressing against his back.

His brother, Kai, would have killed to be in his place—Kai, who admired the valkyrians for their fierce reputation, their beauty.

There were even old legends claiming a single valkyrian stepping onto the battlefield could stop a war before it began, their presence alone enough to weaken the knees of hardened warriors. Kage doubted that .

The Great War had raged on despite their efforts.

The Kingdom of Air, home to these winged warriors, had been the only realm to refuse allegiance to either side, their forces spilling blood only in futile attempts to halt the slaughter.

And in the end, they had failed. The witches had never forgiven them for their neutrality, and the valkyrians had never forgiven themselves for their weakness.

A roar split the sky.

Kage twisted in his saddle, his stomach dropping as a familiar shadow surged through the clouds.

Nyx. The wyvern’s great wings carved through the heavens, its sapphire eyes locking onto his for the briefest of moments before it let out another ear-shattering bellow and dove downward, vanishing into the stormy horizon.

Something was wrong.

‘That is not a good sign,’ Kage said.

‘Did you not call for the wyvern?’ Freya asked, her voice calm.

Kage shook his head. ‘If Nyx is here it means Mal is in danger.’

Without hesitation, Freya dug her heels into the beast beneath them, urging it to fly faster.

The others followed, wind whipping through their hair, the world blurring beneath them.

Kage leaned forward, his sharp gaze scanning the land below for any sign of Mal.

At first, everything seemed untouched—until the horizon shuddered, and a brilliant green explosion erupted against the sky.

A section of the great stone wall collapsed in an avalanche of rock and dust.

Kage’s blood ran cold.

Nyx was already upon the watchtower, its talons raking against the stone, the sheer force of its landing threatening to tear the structure apart. Ash’s dragons circled nearby, their frenzied cries echoing across the battlefield.

Kage and Freya banked low, sweeping in wide circles over the chaos.

Below, Nyx lashed out, its spiked tail cleaving through the crumbling tower, sending chunks of stone plummeting to the earth.

Mal and the others fled, racing against time, their escape veiled by the wyvern’s onslaught.

And then, beyond them, the land shifted.

One by one, green flames flickered to life across the barren fields. At first, they seemed like mere wisps of fire, harmless in their distant glow. But then the flames grew, morphed, took shape—and out of the emerald haze, they appeared.

Witches. Warlocks.

Their figures solidified like specters stepping out of another realm, their eyes gleaming with the same eerie, unnatural purple glow Mal possessed.

Kage veered downward, pulling Freya’s steed towards the wall. He landed in a crouch, sliding off the horse in one smooth motion. The horse’s great wings folded as he patted its side—a silent gesture of thanks—before turning to face the storm of war brewing before them.

More witches manifested, one after the other, until the field crawled with their presence.

A hand lifted. Magic burnt at its fingertips.

A bolt of green light shot forward, colliding with the wall. The stone shuddered under the force of the explosion.

Freya’s breath hitched. ‘Witches, but they…’

‘I think we’ve all been deceived.’ Kage’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Another explosion ripped through the air.

Mal had taken to the skies, Nyx’s wings spreading wide as she soared towards the enemy. A heartbeat later, Ash followed, his dragon cutting through the wind like a blade.

Kage clenched his fists.

Fools . They would die if they flew straight into the witches’ line of fire.

‘Get back on the horse,’ he barked at Freya, already preparing to launch back into the air. ‘They are going to get themselves killed.’

But before he could move, Freya gasped.

A witch had appeared behind her, one hand clutching the valkyrian’s throat, forcing her to her knees. The markings on the witch’s arms shimmered like ink against her bronze skin, pulsing with unspent magic.

Kage took a step forward, rage surging—but before he could strike, a second shadow materialised from the green smoke.

Vera .

The witch moved with lethal grace, her elbow snapping into her enemy’s skull before she could react. The captive witch crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

‘We need to leave,’ Vera said, purple eyes flashing as she turned towards Kage.

He hesitated, watching her warily. As if sensing his doubt, Vera sighed, her gaze burning with a strange conviction.

‘I know they are my people but the curse is more important. If either Mal or Ash die, we all die. Revenge can be taken care of later.’

A roar above them. A streak of blue flame .

Kage made his choice. He moved.

But then—

Vera stopped. Her purple eyes widened in horror. Kage followed her gaze, his heart seizing in his chest.

The witches—all of them—had turned their attention towards the wyvern.

Towards Mal.

Kage opened his mouth, shouted her name.

But by then, it was too late.

A blinding green light swallowed the world.

…

‘Citius, Nyx!’ Mal's voice cracked against the roaring wind, her plea laced with desperation. The wyvern’s great wings carved through the sky, slicing through the thick air like twin obsidian blades. But it wasn’t fast enough. Not nearly fast enough.

Below, the witches swarmed like a rising tide of darkness, their figures shifting through the green smoke that coiled around them like restless spirits.

How many were there? A hundred? More? And if these were only the ones lying in wait along the wall, how many more were scattered across the kingdoms, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?

They had been blind. Arrogant in their belief that the witches were nothing more than remnants of an old war, ghosts of a fallen kingdom too broken to rise again. Surely the Fire King’s decree had awakened them. He had not just threatened to seize their land—he had declared war.

And the witches would never allow their home to be stolen.

Mal couldn’t blame them.

‘Mal, look out!’

Ash’s voice tore through her thoughts like a blade. Below, his dragon had begun to spit fire, not at the enemy but onto the barren land around them—a warning, a final attempt at deterrence. But it would not last. The witches would not be intimidated.

And then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, every single witch turned their attention towards Mal.

A hundred hands lifted in unison, the air thickening with power, humming with the eerie pulse of green fire gathering at their fingertips.

Nyx’s wings twisted sharply, Mal guiding her wyvern into a chaotic zigzag, weaving through the air in an attempt to break their aim. But it didn’t matter. No matter how she moved, their hands still followed. Their magic would find her.

Higher, we need to go higher.

Mal urged Nyx up, up, up, towards the heavens, towards the clouds where the air thinned and the witches’ aim might falter. But as she climbed, the hair at the back of her neck rose in warning.

Something materialised behind her.

A sudden rush of green smoke.

No .

Mal twisted her head just in time to see her.

Allegra .

Vera’s sister, unchanged from the last time Mal had seen her in the Kingdom of Magic—her wild curls still spilling down her back, her eyes the same unnatural shade of purple as Mal’s own.

There was no time to think. No time to act.

Mal’s fingers flew towards the dagger in her boot.

But she was too late.

Allegra’s hands clamped onto her shoulders .

And shoved.

Mal’s scream was swallowed by the wind as she plunged into the abyss.

Nothing.

There was nothing beneath her but sky and the long, merciless fall awaiting her at the earth’s embrace.

Above, Nyx roared, twisting in the air, the great beast’s blue eyes wide with instinctive terror as she tried—desperately, hopelessly—to reach her.

And then—

Green light.

A hundred bolts of magic collided into her.

The explosion that followed silenced the world.

Nyx’s agonised cry was not a sound, but a wound carved into the very air itself. The sky tore apart with it, the great wyvern ripped in half by the force of magic, blood and flesh scattering in the wind, turning into rain.

Mal watched it happen.

Watched the beast she had loved, trusted, shared her soul with—

Vanish .

Her scream ripped from her throat as she fell, fell, fell.

And in that moment, the witches had not just killed a wyvern.

They had created a monster.