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ASHES TO ASHES

ELYRIA

Gael’s cry cut through the chaos, a raw, animalistic sound emanating from where she stood, sending chills down Elyria’s spine. The wyrm’s three-toned roar split the air and shook the walkway beneath her feet as its heads twisted and snapped.

Cyren was gone. The reality of it barely registered as Elyria stumbled backward, body numb, mind spinning. But there was no time to grieve. The wyrm’s three heads hung over them, their glowing eyes flashing with seeming indecision about just which champion it wanted to consume next.

The others were in motion—Nox stepped back into a shadow. Gael fell to her knees on the shore. Kit started running back toward the walkway—to Elyria.

Cedric, chest heaving, still had his bloody sword gripped in one hand as he pulled Elyria back with his other. He moved forward to stand between her and the wyrm, knees bent in a defensive stance as he braced for the next attack.

The wyrm obliged, all three heads aimed right at him.

“No!” The word left her lips before she could even think about what she was doing. Elyria’s shadows lashed out, dark whips shooting forward, wrapping around one of the wyrm’s heads and pulling it backward, yanking the entire beast back with it.

Her shadows tightened, a riotous wave of power surging through her. She could do this. She could stop it. They just needed a few seconds. Enough time for Nox to get to them, for them to get to the gate.

For a moment, it worked.

The wyrm recoiled, its heads jerking back as her shadows bit into its scales. Elyria felt a glimmer of hope.

But then the wyrm dove, dragging Elyria’s shadowy leash down, down...until it touched the obsidian at her feet.

The reaction was immediate. The ground surged with dark energy, the obsidian amplifying her shadows into something wild, uncontrolled. She barely had time to gasp before an explosion of power tore through the air.

The wyrm screeched in pain, rearing back and convulsing like it had been struck by lightning. Hot blood sprayed Elyria’s arm, but she couldn’t tell where or how badly the creature had been hurt. Not as that same shockwave slammed into her, knocking her off her feet, her ears ringing.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Horror lanced her every thought, every nerve, every heartbeat as the wave of her dark power struck Cedric. His body flew across the obsidian walkway, disappearing into the lake of fire with a burst of flame and a shocking splash.

Her insides iced over.

Elyria’s vision went hazy.

And everything else faded into the background as her heart plummeted into the molten fire with him.

Elyria’s mind blanked as she stared at the spot where Cedric had sunk beneath the flames. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Not after everything they’d been through, not after what he’d just done to help them—help her —survive.

Not after she just got him back.

Darkness bloomed from that spot inside her chest, shadows misting over her skin, swirling in her hands. They threatened to spill over, to cover the obsidian ground, to cause another burst of power that would obliterate everything—the writhing wyrm, the bridge. Herself.

Time slowed, froze.

“Ellie!” Kit’s cry snapped Elyria back to the present. Her shadows dissipated. On the shore, Nox had their arms wrapped around Kit as she thrashed and kicked against their hold. “Let me go! I won’t leave her!”

Grief washed over Elyria as she nodded at the nocterrian, a silent command. Kit was always the priority. Nox would see her through the gate. Hopefully, along with Thraigg and Zephyr, they would see her through to the end.

Just as Elyria thought it, the nocterrian stepped into a shadow, reemerging by the gate and walking through with Kit, even as she continued flailing against their hold.

Elyria was alone.

No, not alone.

A flash of red drew Elyria’s eyes to where Gael still knelt on the edge of the shore. Nox hadn’t gotten her out yet.

Elyria swallowed hard, her limbs heavy with exhaustion, her heart pounding a desperate drumbeat in her ears. Or was that the sound of it breaking?

Gael’s body was unnaturally still as she stared into the fiery lake, eyes tracking between the wyrm—still jerking in pain—and the spot where it had taken Cyren. Her single wing fluttered weakly behind her, and the expression on her face...

Elyria’s heart clenched.

She knew that look.

“Gael, you need to move!” Elyria called, careening down the rest of the obsidian walkway to get to the fae. Panic gripped her as the wyrm finally regained its faculties, pulling back, preparing once more to strike. Elyria’s eyes widened as she took in the steaming blood dripping from a deep, grotesque gash that had opened up on its neck, a souvenir from the explosion of her power.

Gael showed no sign of acknowledgment. She didn’t respond to Elyria’s shouts. She was lost in her grief.

Her madness.

A defiant roar rent the air, swallowing Elyria’s warnings.

Three heads hissed, three heads bowed, and three sets of wide-open jaws lunged for Gael.

But she was faster.

It was so sudden, so unexpected, that it took several moments for Elyria to understand what was happening. One second, Gael was standing still, lost in her own mind. The next, she was charging into the fiery lake, barreling toward the wyrm, her face twisted in a mask of rage.

“Gael, no!” Elyria screamed, but it did nothing.

Gael’s power ignited with terrifying force, flames licking up her arms as she threw herself at the beast with feral rage. Her movements were frantic, erratic, as if she were nothing more than a conduit for the raw, uncontrolled power burning inside her.

The wyrm snarled, its heads snapping at Gael, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t flinch, only dodged the heads with blinding speed, flames erupting from her hands. She hurled balls of fire at the creature. They bounced harmlessly off its scales, and Elyria’s heart fell. Of course they did. It was a fyre wyrm, and Gael was a flamecaller.

She wasn’t letting that stop her, though. Gael was nothing but a frenzied hail of fire and fury as she continued hurling wave after wave of power at the wyrm. A one-winged angel come straight from the fourth quarter of hell.

Miraculously, it started to work.

The wyrm recoiled from the flames, hissing in pain as Gael’s fire worked its way past its scales to strike the exposed, bleeding flesh Elyria had unearthed. It wasn’t enough. The creature’s torso rose from the lake, towering above Gael as if ready to crush her with its massive body.

And still, she didn’t stop .

She leapt, flames surging around her, and threw herself onto the wyrm. Elyria watched in horrified awe as the flamecaller latched onto its neck and thrust her hands into the gaping wound at its throat.

Gael’s eyes locked with Elyria’s for a fleeting moment.

And then she was nothing but a living flame—every inch of her, from her long, cascading hair to the tip of her remaining wing, was on fire. And she channeled that fire directly into the wyrm, letting it coat the great beast’s organs, setting its blood alight. The scent of burning flesh singed Elyria’s nostrils as Gael charred its insides.

Elyria had never before heard a sound like the one the wyrm released in triplicate as its massive body convulsed, each head thrashing, then buckling, as it was consumed from within.

Gael was quiet. She made no sound as her face contorted with rage, with pain, with grief. She was utterly silent as her remaining wing withered, as her skin turned black, cracking and splitting. Still, she pushed deeper, her fire growing brighter, burning hotter.

With one final roar, the wyrm fell.

And Elyria’s heart shattered as Gael collapsed atop it, flames still sputtering from her body while both she and the great beast were reduced to ash.

Elyria stood frozen, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her mind struggling to process what she just witnessed. She thought maybe she should be screaming, crying, lashing out at the unfairness of it all—but she didn’t. Couldn’t. She was numb. Hollow. Alone.

It was over.

Gael was gone.

Cyren was gone.

Cedric was . . .

She dropped to her knees, her body collapsing under the weight of that loss.

She couldn’t say it.

Couldn’t even think it.

It was too much.

And that was when she saw it—movement, out of the corner of her eye. A figure crawling out from the flames.

Her heart stopped .

It couldn’t be.

Her breath caught in her throat as Cedric emerged from the fire, body smoking, armor blackened.

Illogical. Impossible. Inconceivable.

But it was him.

He was alive.

Cedric dragged himself onto the shore, the smoldering remnants of his clothing still glowing with heat as he rose—first to his knees, then to his feet. His face was pinned in a silent expression of shock.

Staggering forward, his eyes blazed with something other than fire as he lifted his head and locked eyes with Elyria.

She moved toward him, finally crossing onto the shore, her feet surprisingly steady.

He opened his mouth, drew in a shaky breath as if he was going to speak.

She reached for him.

And he collapsed in her arms.