Page 37 of Realms of Shadow and Sun (A World of Sun and Shadow #3)

The air crackled with magic and the clash of steel as Grayden soared above the chaos on Beauty's back. The smell of smoke mingled with the metallic tang of blood, creating a nauseating cloud that hung over the battlefield. Suddenly, Phillippe's voice cut through the chaos, urgent and sharp.

"Grayden, behind you!"

Instinct took over. Grayden yanked on Beauty's harness, the dragon responding instantly to his touch. They swerved in a tight arc, the scorching heat of a flaming arrow singeing Grayden's ear as it whooshed past. The projectile exploded against a nearby building, showering debris onto the combatants below.

Before Grayden could even catch his breath to thank his brother, his eyes locked onto Triston. The Tidal King was surrounded, fighting hand-to-hand against five Shadow Realm soldiers. Their dark armor seemed to absorb the sunlight, making them look like living shadows as they pressed their advantage.

"Beauty, to Triston!"

Grayden commanded, leaning low over the dragon's neck as they dove.

The moment Beauty's claws touched the golden cobblestones, Grayden leapt from her back. He hit the ground rolling, unsheathing his sword in one fluid motion. Beauty took off again with a thunderous beat of her wings, charging towards another group of fighters who scattered in terror at her approach.

Grayden's blade sounded loudly as he engaged the three soldiers on Triston's right. The clash of metal on metal rang out as he dodged a blow, ducked under another, and thrust his sword through a gap in his opponent's armor. The man fell with a gurgled cry, and Grayden spun to face the next threat.

Beside him, Triston dispatched his remaining two attackers with a series of quick, brutal strikes. As the last body hit the ground, Grayden turned to his ally, noting the sweat and grime that streaked Triston's face.

"What happened to your trident?"

Grayden asked, his eyes darting around for new threats as he spoke.

Triston rubbed his shoulder, wincing. "I made the mistake of trying to take on the smaller dragon,"

he admitted, gesturing beyond the city gates. "It's lodged in the beast, and I had to retreat."

Following Triston's gesture, Grayden saw the dragon in question. It snarled and clawed at the wall surrounding the city, its scales gleaming with an unnatural, oily sheen. The beast's eyes glowed with malevolent intelligence as it sought a way past the defenses.

Grayden raised his fingers to his lips, ready to whistle for Beauty, but stopped short as he saw Agatha approach the rampaging dragon. The air around her crackled with power, her magic manifesting as arcs of energy that danced across her skin.

In an instant, a shadow darker than the blackest night enveloped both Agatha and the dragon. The darkness was absolute, hiding whatever confrontation was taking place within its depths. A chill ran down Grayden's spine, and he turned away, his thoughts immediately going to Renya.

"Grayden!"

The desperate cry cut through his worry. Grayden whirled around, searching for the source. His heart dropped as he spotted Sion sprawled in the middle of the street, a deep gouge in his side staining the golden tiles crimson.

Without hesitation, Grayden sprinted to his friend's side. He hoisted Sion up, grunting with the effort, and whistled sharply for Beauty. The dragon landed beside them with a ground-shaking thud, her eyes wide with concern.

Grayden knew Beauty couldn't carry them both, and he had promised Renya he'd stay with the dragon for protection. But seeing Sion's ashen face and the blood soaking through his tunic, Grayden knew he had no choice.

"Beauty, quickly!"

he commanded, carefully draping Sion over the dragon's back. "Take him to the palace, to Dimitri!"

He gave Beauty an encouraging pat, watching as she took to the sky with his wounded friend. Guilt and worry warred in his chest—guilt over how he had treated Sion when he learned of his relationship with Selenia, and worry for his sister should Sion not survive.

Pushing aside his tumultuous thoughts, Grayden turned back to the battle. He sprinted towards the castle, his eyes constantly scanning for civilians who might have been caught in the crossfire. The streets were a maze of destruction—buildings scorched and crumbling, golden tiles cracked and stained with blood.

As he ran, Grayden couldn't avoid seeing the fallen soldiers that littered the ground. Each face, friend or foe, was a stark reminder of the cost of this conflict. He took a deep, pained breath but forced himself to keep moving. War always brought casualties, but the weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders. These men had joined this fight under his command, and their lives were the price of his decisions.

Reaching the courtyard, Grayden's eyes immediately darted to the tower. Golden light radiated from the room where he knew Renya faced her greatest challenge. The absence of black mist loosened the knot in his stomach slightly, but the battle was far from over.

A wet nudge against his hand startled him. Beauty stood beside him, seeking comfort or reassurance. In any other situation, Grayden might have chuckled at the dragon's behavior—so fierce in battle, yet so gentle now. It was clear that Renya had worked her magic on Beauty, just as she had on him. He gave the dragon a distracted pat, but his breath caught in his throat when he saw the amount of Sion's blood staining her scales.

Every instinct screamed at him to run to Renya, to ensure her safety. But he knew her father would protect her, and right now, he had another duty to fulfill. He needed to look after Selenia, which meant ensuring Sion's safety.

With a heavy heart but resolute determination, Grayden strode towards the main hall, now converted into a makeshift infirmary. The scene that greeted him was one of organized chaos—healers rushing between patients, the air thick with the scent of medicinal herbs and the sounds of pain and comfort intermingling.

His eyes widened as he spotted Selenia, her hair pulled back and an apron over her dress, assisting a man with a broken leg. Julietta worked beside her, wrapping the injury as Selenia held the man still, whispering words of comfort. Pride swelled in Grayden's chest.

Part of him wanted to scold her for disobeying his orders to stay safe, but he held his tongue. Selenia's heart was pure, her desire to help others a fundamental part of who she was. If nursing the injured brought her purpose in this dark time, he wouldn't stand in her way.

From Selenia's calm demeanor, Grayden surmised that she was unaware of Sion's condition. The thought of the agony she would feel upon learning of his injury made Grayden's heart ache. He knew all too well the pain of seeing a loved one hurt.

Scanning the room, Grayden's gaze fell on Dimitri. The healer was hunched over a table, working diligently on a patient surrounded by bloody linens. With a jolt, Grayden realized it was Sion. He sprinted over, catching Dimitri's eye.

"He'll survive, provided there's no infection,"

Dimitri said, his voice strained with exhaustion, dark circles prominent under his eyes.

Relief flooded through Grayden. "Thank you,"

he said fervently. "Twice now you've performed miracles to save my family and friends. You shall be rewarded."

Dimitri shook his head, patting Sion's unconscious form on the shoulder. "No reward needed,"

he insisted before moving to tend to another patient.

With Sion's immediate safety assured, Grayden reached out through his bond with Renya. The emotions he sensed from her—uncertainty and confusion—puzzled him. Concern mounting, he made his way to the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste to reach her.

As he burst through the door to the tower room, sword drawn, the scene before him was not what he expected. Cressida, bound in the corner; Renya, standing before her with her dagger hanging loosely at her side; Cyrus, his expression a mix of concern and contemplation. The air was thick with tension, and a shiver of unease ran down Grayden's spine.

"What's going on?"

he demanded, looking between Cyrus and Renya.

Cressida's voice, dripping with false sweetness, burned his nerves. "Ah, if it isn't my daughter's mate!"

Ignoring the Shadow Queen, Grayden moved to Renya's side. "Renya, do what you came here to do,"

he encouraged, offering his unwavering support.

But to his shock, Renya dropped her dagger. The clatter of metal on stone seemed to echo in the suddenly silent room.

"I knew you couldn't do it, daughter,"

Cressida sighed, relief evident in her voice.

The word 'daughter' from Cressida's lips sent a wave of fury through Grayden. His entire body tensed, fists clenching at his sides. How dare she claim that title after all she had done—trying to kill Renya as a child, kidnapping her, attempting to steal her magic, nearly killing him. If Renya found the task too difficult, Grayden would gladly finish it himself.

He moved forward, raising his sword, only to find himself suddenly immobilized by Renya's golden bonds.

"Renya, what are you doing?"

he asked, his eyes darting between her and Cressida, searching for understanding.

"We can't kill her, Grayden,"

Renya explained, her voice tight with emotion. "Killing her won't fix our world."

Confusion and frustration wrestled within him. "What do you mean? Of course it will! She's been stealing magic!"

Cyrus exhaled heavily. "Renya's right, son. The balance was already broken before she began empowering herself."

Grayden struggled against the magical restraints, his mind reeling. "So? Either way, it doesn't matter."

Guilt flashed across Renya's face. "I'll release you, but you have to promise me you won't touch her until we figure out what to do with her."

"Oh, touch me, please,"

Cressida mocked, and Grayden felt a surge of murderous intent. If he were free, he would have ended her with his bare hands then and there.

Taking a measured breath to calm himself, Grayden met Renya's eyes. "I promise you, Renya."

She studied him for a moment before releasing her magical hold. As the bonds dissipated, Grayden fought the urge to lunge at Cressida, honoring his word to Renya.

"We need to restrain her permanently,"

Renya said, eyeing Cressida warily. "I don't trust her."

Cyrus nodded. "There's a spell we can use, but I can't do it alone. I'll need your help to make any kind of permanent bindings."

"She needs to call off her soldiers, too,"

Renya added.

Frustration mounting, Grayden crossed his arms. "Will someone please explain to me what's going on?"

"Renya, I'll take her down to the library,"

Cyrus interjected. "There's a secure room there that should hold her for a while. I'll make sure she puts a stop to her troops first."

Grayden snorted, memories of his own time in that room surfacing. "I remember that blasted room."

As Cyrus wrapped his magic around Cressida and disappeared with her, Grayden turned to Renya, his expression a mix of concern and confusion.

"Now please explain why your dagger isn't down that witch's throat."

Renya took a deep breath, her eyes meeting Grayden's with an intensity that made him pause. "I went to do it, and she said something that stopped me. Remember Kalora's tales about the first fae? And how the magic faded as the Gods left? Cressida said she knows how to bring them back, how to restore the world to what it once was."

As Renya continued to explain Cressida's claims about gathering magic to restore the world's balance, Grayden listened with growing amazement and skepticism. The implications were staggering, but could they trust Cressida's words?

"This is true, Little Fawn,"

he said gently, "but there's nothing we can do about that. We need to kill Cressida, and then the magic she took will return to wherever it came from."

She sighed. "Are you willing to live in a world where fated bonds have died out? Think of what we share. Can you deny that experience to others? What if there's a way to restore everything? What if we could restore your magic completely? Allow Esmeralda to find her fated mate? Allow Sion's bond to your sister to materialize? For Julietta to regain her powers? For the snow in your lands to cover the ground completely? The glaciers to stop melting? Are you willing to ignore the possibility that we could make it right?"

"Renya, I'd love to believe that's true. But the prophecy says that—"

"Yes, I know,"

she interrupted. "That the sun betrays. But that's already happened. My father betrayed my mother when he broke their bond and hid me away. What if this entire time, the prophecy had nothing to do with Cressida? What if it was all about bringing back what's been lost to our world? Grayden, please."

Looking into her eyes, Grayden saw the desperation there, the burning desire to fix a broken world, to save everyone in it. His Renya, with her pure heart and generous spirit, wearing her ferocity like a cape. He didn't trust Cressida, but he trusted Renya with his life.

"If this is what you need to do, Little Fawn, I support you,"

he said finally. "I'll be there with you each step of the way. I just have one demand before we go gallivanting off on another adventure."

"What's that?"

she asked cautiously.

A smile tugged at Grayden's lips, love and admiration for this remarkable woman overwhelming him. "For Fates' sake, would you marry me already?"