Page 38 of Fire’s Resonance (Hearts on Fire #1)

I drop to one knee, muscles bunching, then sweeping my arm in a circular motion that would have been impossible before the bond.

Silver-crimson fire cascades outward in all directions, a perfect circle of controlled power.

The flame doesn’t burn wildly or destructively—it targets with surgical precision, severing the magical connections in the nets, disrupting the binding spells while leaving the warriors themselves untouched.

Control I never possessed before. Precision that would have been impossible with my old ashen flames.

The elite team stares at their neutralized equipment with naked disbelief. Even Orrath seems momentarily at a loss, his tactical mind struggling to process a defense that shouldn’t exist.

“What the fuck,” Vex breathes, staring at his now-useless net launcher.

Orrath’s face hardens, frustration tightening his features into a mask of rigid determination. His voice drops to a dangerous growl: “Enough games. Take him down. Now.”

The order changes everything. No longer attempting capture, the elite warriors shift to combat stances, lethal intent clear in their movements.

Flame daggers extend to full swords, burning with killing heat rather than subduing warmth.

Scales ripple across exposed skin as they partial-shift for maximum strength and speed.

A pang of regret spikes through me. These are my comrades, warriors I’ve fought beside for decades. I’ve shared meals with them, trained with them, bled with them in defense of our sanctuary. Now they prepare to kill me because Varen’s corruption has poisoned the chain of command.

“Don’t do this,” I warn, one last attempt at reason. My voice carries genuine regret, a final appeal to our shared history. “You’re being used by Varen. He’s working with human hunters against the clan. Against our own kind.”

“Lies from a traitor,” Orrath dismisses, though something flickers in his ice-blue eyes—a moment of doubt quickly suppressed by rigid loyalty to hierarchy. “Take him.”

The fight becomes deadly serious in an instant.

They attack with coordinated precision—not individual warriors but a single killing entity with multiple limbs, each movement designed to complement the others, to leave no avenue of escape or defense.

Under normal circumstances, even my considerable skill would be insufficient against such odds.

But these are not normal circumstances.

I meet their attack with lethal focus, my mind settling into calm clarity despite the chaos of combat. Where their fire meets mine, mine consumes theirs, absorbing and redirecting their energy rather than clashing against it.

Guardian fire—designed to protect, to defend, to counter threats to the clan. The magic responds to its ancient purpose, flowing through me with exhilarating power.

One warrior goes down, then another. I position their unconscious forms carefully away from the continuing battle, ensuring they won’t be accidentally injured in the conflict. I fight with precision, with control—incapacitating rather than killing, but leaving no question of my superior strength.

Spark’s mental signature flares brighter suddenly—she and Blaze are in the council chambers, ready to speak. The clan leader knows the truth, but Varen won’t surrender his decades-long vengeance without a fight.

I need to end this quickly.

Only Orrath and two warriors remain standing, their formation tightened to compensate for reduced numbers. Their expressions have shifted from confidence to concern, perhaps even fear. They’ve witnessed abilities no dragon should possess, combat techniques that defy their training and experience.

“One last chance,” I offer, silver-crimson flames dancing along my arms, across my shoulders, outlining my frame in brilliant fire that doesn’t burn my skin or clothing.

The heat feels good—right—like finally wearing clothes that fit after a lifetime of ill-fitting garments. “Stand down. Let me pass.”

“Guardian or not,” Orrath growls, desperation making him reckless, “you’re still outnumbered.”

My smile is cold, predatory. “Am I?”

The flames around me surge upward, forming a dome of protective fire as I summon the full power of the Guardian Bond.

Spark’s essence flows into me—her strength, her courage, her determination joining with mine, amplifying my abilities beyond what either of us could achieve alone.

The fire responds to our unified purpose, expanding outward in a controlled wave that knocks the remaining warriors back without burning them.

The display of power is unmistakable—not aggression but absolute defense, the true purpose of Guardian fire. When the flames recede, I stand alone, the warriors unconscious but unharmed around me.

Only Orrath remains semi-conscious, his ice-blue eyes wide with disbelief. “Impossible,” he whispers, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Guardian,” I correct, stepping over the security chief’s prone form. My scales catch the light, silver-gray now lined with crimson, physical proof of my transformation. “As the ancient texts foretold. When corruption threatens from within, the Gray Guardian rises.”