Page 19 of Scorched by Fate (Drakarn Mates #3)

NINETEEN

SELENE

Reika trudged beside me. Her trembling had eased enough to keep her upright, though exhaustion clung to her shoulders like dead weight. Every step she took was driven by sheer will.

The strap of my pack cut into my shoulder, the clinking of the vyrathis container a reminder of what this delay could cost.

“How did you end up on Volcaryth?” I asked, keeping my voice low. If I'd been any less exhausted, I might have spent the night tossing and turning, desperate for the answer. Instead, I’d slept only a foot away from Vyne and wished I was brave enough to lie down in his arms.

This thing between us … I wasn’t sure I understood it. I could practically still taste him, the memory of his tongue a brand on me.

And I couldn’t think about it. Not now, not when I had to keep Reika alive and get the vyrathis back to Scalvaris before it was too late.

Reika didn't respond. Not surprising—she still flinched whenever I said her name. Her gaze flicked toward Vyne’s shadow ahead of us before her jaw clenched and she refocused on her uneven footing.

I tried again. “Were you on a generation ship from Earth? Maybe your pod got ejected somehow?” As best we could tell, that was what had happened to me and my fellow humans.

Her voice cracked when she finally spoke. “Does it matter?”

“It might,” I said. “If there are others out there, they might need help.”

She stopped. For a moment, I thought she’d stay silent, but then her lips curled into a sneer, her voice sharp and bitter. “If anyone else made it, you won’t find them alive. You’d be lucky to find their bones.”

The edge of her bitterness grated, but I swallowed my irritation. Pushing her wouldn’t help, not while she was still bruised and battered. What the hell had she survived to leave her this cut open and closed off?

“What about you?” I pressed. “How long have you been out here?”

She didn’t flinch this time. “Long enough.”

She wore her silence like armor. And whatever survival instinct had dragged her through this volcanic deathtrap still burned under her exhaustion, just enough to keep her moving.

The terrain didn’t help. The deeper we pushed into this wasteland, the more Volcaryth’s suffocating hostility seeped into my bones. This world wasn’t just a planet—it was a predator. Every shadow, every sulfur-choked breath in the air felt like it was waiting for one moment of weakness to strike.

Vyne moved steadily ahead. He knew the terrain better than either of us, but even he couldn’t fully hide the tension. He saw something there—felt it.

He’s worried.

That thought stuck to me harder than the heat. If Volcaryth had Vyne watching the shadows, we were already treading over the edge of disaster.

Reika kept moving, her steps growing steadier. Her breathing, still labored, was getting stronger. Whatever strength had dragged her through hell planet still burned inside her, faint but alive.

Then the first warning hit—a shift in the air, enough to make every nerve in my body tighten.

“Move.” Vyne’s voice cut like a knife.

Instinct took over before my mind could catch up. I shifted fast, dragging Reika toward me as I adjusted the pack against my back. My gaze darted upward to the surrounding ridges, searching desperately for whatever had Vyne’s wings flaring.

Nothing. At least, nothing I could see.

“Eyes up,” Vyne growled, his gaze locked on the rocks above. He stopped short, his imposing frame coiled and ready.

Then I saw them—shadows slipping over the peaks, moving too quickly and too precisely to be anything but a threat.

Shit.

“Reika.” I kept my voice sharp and low, stepping closer to shield her as I reached for my knife. Vyne’s knife. Whichever. All that mattered was it was sharp. “Stay close. Keep moving. Understand?”

She nodded stiffly, her breaths shaky but steady enough to keep her upright. Good. That was good. I could work with that.

The air thickened, tension coiling around us. It prickled behind my neck, each heartbeat louder and harder against my chest.

Then they appeared.

The first Drakarn, they had to be from Ignarath, burst from the haze, red and gold scales glinting. He slammed into the ground, his claws scraping deep gouges into the ridge just meters from Vyne. His wings flared sharply as he straightened.

A second leapt forward from the ridge to our left, blue-scaled and bristling with dark armor so polished it seemed to drink in the shadows. Above us, a third circled.

“Stay behind me,” Vyne growled. His body coiled, every muscle taut and ready.

I didn’t argue. There wasn’t time. Instead, I eased my stance, gripping the knife tighter in one hand while keeping my pack secured against my back with the other.

The first Ignarath launched himself at Vyne, claws outstretched. Vyne met him head-on, his strike brutal and precise, claws tearing at scales with surgical precision. Their impact echoed off the rocks, shaking the ground beneath me.

But as I tracked their fight, movement from the second Ignarath snapped my focus back. His eyes locked onto me. My stomach tightened. Big. Fast. Dangerous.

He lunged.

I dove low, heart hammering as his claws swiped just over my head. My blade sliced upward as I turned, grazing his flank. He let out a sharp snarl, twisting quickly to face me again. He was angry now—his tail snapping violently behind him, his gaze predatory and locked.

He swiped again, claws fast. I twisted, throwing awkward steps backward, barely keeping ahead of his momentum. Each move scratched away at whatever sandpaper-thin margin of survival I had left.

Focus. Keep moving.

His claws slashed wide, too fast for me to dodge. I threw myself sideways, the motion wrenching at my shoulders and sending me skidding on loose volcanic rock. Pain flared sharp along my ribs as I found my footing.

The bastard in front of me lunged again, claws slashing. I ducked, my knees scraping rock as I drove my blade upward. The edge of his wing caught my knife, tearing webbing and sending him reeling back with a guttural snarl.

The Ignarath growled. He was gauging me now—he hadn’t expected resistance. His arrogance was personal. If I could exploit it, even for a moment …

Footsteps.

No—pounding claws. Heavy, fast, closing in.

I turned sharply to see the second Ignarath, the blue-scaled brute, barreling toward Reika. Her scream sliced the air just as he reached her, his fangs bared and gaze alight with cruel intention.

Damn it.

“Reika!” I yelled, my heart slamming into my ribs. My body reacted, moving before my thoughts could catch up, muscles burning as I sprinted toward her. She was defenseless, frozen. I?—

No. She wasn’t.

She gripped a wickedly sharp piece of volcanic rock, her hands trembling. Her wide, panic-stricken gaze locked on the blue-scaled Ignarath, but there was a shift in the air. A thread of something wild sparked in her movements, shaky but there. Her terror turned sharp, desperate—but not paralyzed.

As his claws reached for her, Reika lashed out with the shard, the wide swing catching him clean across his forearm. Dark blood sprayed hot and fast against the stone, and the Ignarath’s snarl turned to a roar of pain.

“Reika, get down!” I barked. She stumbled backward, the shard still clutched in white-knuckled hands.

The Ignarath recoiled, his fury radiating off him in near-tangible waves. He swiped again, and I barely had time to react, my body twisting sharply as he crashed into the ridge beside us.

My hands tightened around my knife as I maneuvered between Reika and the advancing Ignarath.

Fight. Survive. Protect.

That was all I could focus on now.

The Ignarath stalked closer, slow and steady now. He knew I was trapped. I could see it in the sharp curl of his lips, the evil grin that split his scaled face. His claws flexed, mocking, as if savoring the kill before he delivered it.

We were losing ground fast. I glanced past the Ignarath, trying to track Vyne, but I couldn't see him. The Ignarath snarled, his hand snapping out. A claw skimmed over my shoulder—not enough to tear flesh, but close enough to send me stumbling. Pain shot down my arm.

The bastard wasn’t letting up. His massive wings folded to gain tighter control as his claws flexed and struck again. This time, I couldn’t dodge fast enough. His hand clipped the side of my pack, dragging the weight of it hard against my ribs and knocking the air from my lungs.

The ridge around us felt alive—unstable rock shifting and groaning beneath the pressure of his sheer brutal force. My footing wavered as I stumbled farther back, the fissures widening behind me. He followed every step with relentless precision, cutting off any paths of escape with calculated strikes. This close, his size was overwhelming, his shadow swallowing the light as he pressed forward.

I just needed an opening. Anything.

A sharper sound cut through the air above us—a sudden rush of air displaced by powerful wings. My pulse kicked hard as I shifted my focus upward to the hulking shadow descending fast from above.

The third Ignarath hit the ground behind the first with a force that felt like an earthquake.

This one was broader, darker, his scales nearly black. His massive frame loomed, unnatural in its size and weight. His eyes burned, piercing gold—locking instantly on me, his wings still tucked tight against his back, claws flexing as he moved closer.

No hesitation. No slow circling this time. They weren’t waiting anymore.

The weight of everything hit like a punch. My breath felt heavy and raw as my hand trembled harder around the knife hilt.

Vyne’s roar broke through. I whipped my head toward him just as the emerald flash of his scales collided brutally with the first Ignarath. His claws tore into his opponent, forcing him toward the edge of the ridge. The fight was blood-slick and loud.

He didn’t pause—didn’t falter. Even with his wings frayed and blood streaking his sides, Vyne dominated the fight. But there were too many of them, and for every advantage he gained, it only pushed me harder into the realization:

He wasn’t going to hold for long.

They weren’t there to test our limits. They were there to tear them apart.