Page 25

Alaric

The Ruins of the First Battle

The battlefield reeks of ash and blood.

The air pulses with dying magic as we drive the last of the SoulTakers into the dust.

My blade gleams red under the dying sun, my wings tucked as I shift back to skin and stalk toward the center of the chaos.

Behind me, Kael roars, his trident splitting the skull of a retreating monster.

Dagan is covered in ichor, his hammer slick with ruin.

Thorne, silent and deadly, turns a howling Demon to cinders with a flick of his wrist, his power is dark and biting like shadow made fire.

We’ve won.

Or so it seems.

It’s been far too long since I’ve held my viyella and my skin itches with the need to go to her. My Dragon stirs, writhing beneath my skin.

Soon. We will be with her soon.

We’ve captured one of their generals. He is a massive creature, mutilated by his vows to Idris and his ilk.

This putrid smelling cretin is responsible for the deaths of many of my people. I growl as I draw near.

Even covered in blood and gore, cloaked in broken armor made of bones, with writhing tattoos pulsing beneath his gray flesh— this motherfucker smiles at us .

He’s kneeling now, bound in runes, his eyes glinting with malice even as blood drips from his mouth.

“Speak,” I demand, stepping forward, fire flaring in my palm.

“Where is your master? Where are the rest of your cursed kind hiding?”

The general laughs.

A sound like grinding glass.

“You think this matters?” he rasps.

“Doesn’t it?” Thorne asks, pulling on the general’s hair so he is forced to make eye contact.

“Tell us what you know or I swear by all the gods. I will smite you and all your wretched kind,” Dagan snarls.

“This battle is just smoke and mirrors. You should appreciate that, Lord of Illusion,” he says and laughs darkly.

“Speak clearly. Where is Idris? What is his endgame?”

“This fool will tell us nothing,” Kael grunts, frustration showing as he slaps his hand on his leg.

“What is the matter little Lord? Maybe you’ve chosen the wrong side. Ally yourself with Idris the Great and you will know true power,” he cajoles.

“True power, is it? Then tell us, General,” I sneer, revulsion filling my voice, “why must he steal it from the souls and hearts of others?”

“You know nothing of power, lord of Hot Air and Trickery!”

“I ought to?—”

“You can do nothing! You are nothing ! This was but a curtain of smoke. A distraction.”

My heart drops. A chill winds through my spine.

Dagan steps forward, snarling.

“A distraction from what?”

“The Eyrie,” the creature hisses. “The Crown. We know where it lies. And your pet human ? She’ll scream loudest of all.”

Everything stops.

The wind dies.

The ground feels suddenly unsteady beneath me.

“No,” I whisper.

Then, I feel it.

A flash of terror.

Of pain.

Of wild, defiant fury, burning from across the bond like a lightning strike straight to my heart.

“ Myrrin ,” I choke.

I can feel Jules through the zareth, as I have every night since I’ve been at battle.

But this time, she isn’t sending me feelings of warmth, peace, and solace.

This time she’s afraid.

She’s scared, but she’s fighting.

For the Eyrie. For me. For us.

They’ve reached her.

“What is it, Alaric?” Kael asks.

“They’re storming the Eyrie! And I swear on every god imaginable, if she is hurt, there will be nowhere safe in Nightfall for Idris and his SoulTakers!”

The vow tears from my chest, primal and deadly. My roar ripples across the battlefield like a shockwave, shaking tents, flattening grass, and making even seasoned warriors flinch. The sky trembles in response. Magic answers me, thick in the air, crackling like a coming storm.

Without waiting for permission or another word, I swap skins.

My body erupts with heat.

Bones shatter and reform. Scales slice through skin as power roars to the surface. My wings unfurl with a deafening thunderclap, blotting out the moonlight. My horns spiral forward with a hiss of magic. My tail lashes behind me like a serpent made of obsidian.

I rise—massive, ancient, unstoppable.

I am Dragon.

I am Death to those who threaten what’s mine.

Kael doesn’t hesitate. “Go! We will follow!”

He plunges a dagger into the air, and his form dissolves into pure vapor, swept upward in a roaring gust of wind.

Thorne, Lord of Fire, becomes a living pyre. Smoke pours from his eyes as his body melts into living ash, carried on currents only he can command.

Dagan slams his rune-carved hammer to the ground, and stone answers. Earth splits, surging up to carry him like a wave, the glowing sigils on his skin pulsing like a second heartbeat.

Together, we rise.

The Lords of Nightfall.

The realm feels us coming.

Winds scream. Trees bow. Magic bends and burns at our command.

The veil of reality begins to warp beneath our speed—space folding, time unraveling in streaks of silver and shadow.

Mountains blur.

Rivers vanish beneath us.

We will ourselves forward like divine weapons shot from the gods’ own bowstring.

My wings tear through the sky.

And I feel her.

My viyella.

My mate.

My whole fucking heart.

The zareth burns inside me. It’s an ache, a tether, a compass that leads only to her.

I feel her terror. Her courage. The battle in her soul as she fights for the home we barely had time to build together.

“ Hold on, Jules, ” I growl, voice deep and echoing in the wind. “ I’m coming. ”

Nightfall itself splits open before us.

And the sky prepares to burn.

Then— we’re there.

I can see the Eyrie, and it’s under siege.

Fuck.

Screams echo through the valley as flames lick the lofty towers.

Smoke pours from shattered windows.

The great gates are splintered, and monsters swarm the halls I swore to protect.

But none of that stops me.

Because I see her.

My Myrrin. My sweet, furious, shining Jules.

She’s a streak of motion on the marble steps—barefoot, blood-spattered, hair unbound and silver, catching the light like threads of starlight spun from war.

A shield is clenched in one hand, her knuckles white, her eyes blazing with fire as she uses the other arm to usher a cluster of terrified children through the keep’s inner gate.

Shade is at her back, staff whirling like a blade of moonlight, felling enemies twice her size with terrifying grace. They’re both bloodied, battered, breathing hard.

But they are still standing.

And it shatters me.

A child screams. One of the SoulTakers lunges—more shadow than flesh—and Jules pivots with brutal efficiency, slamming her shield into its face with a crack of silver magic.

It drops with a howl, vanishing into a curl of black smoke, and she shouts something— orders —to the children, her voice fierce and commanding.

They run. They get to safety. And all because of her.

She doesn’t see me.

Not yet.

My Dragon does.

And my heart— our heart —nearly breaks.

She’s fighting alone.

For me.

For us.

She turns to face a new threat, blood on her cheek, teeth bared in defiance.

She is all instinct and light and raw, wild courage, and she has never looked more beautiful.

Never felt more mine.

I drop from the clouds in a streak of silver and rage.

My wings shatter the wind. My roar splits the heavens.

And then she sees me.

Her eyes lift. Find me. Widen.

Through our bond, I feel it— relief.

Hope.

That aching thread of welcome that binds soul to soul.

Take cover, I whisper through the zareth.

She doesn’t argue.

Doesn’t hesitate.

She trusts me.

I watch her grab Shade’s arm, ducking behind the inner portico just as I unleash fire.

The courtyard erupts.

White-hot flame scorches the sky and silvers the stone.

The shrieks of SoulTakers echo, high and shrill, as they burn.

Their shadows disintegrate.

Their clawed limbs flail, trying to crawl away from my fury.

Too late.

My tail lashes through the air, smashing through the enemy ranks like a blade of molten iron.

Stone cracks beneath my claws. I tear through the courtyard like a storm, knocking down wave after wave.

I see faces I once knew— Demons I once broke bread with —now twisted by shadow, consumed by the madness of Idris’s foul promises.

Gods help us.

This infection of SoulTakers, of power hungry madness, is worse than I feared.

Did the fall of our Prime truly send so many spiraling into desperation?

Has Nightfall forgotten what it means to fight for honor? For hope?

I don’t have time for answers.

Not yet.

Because right now, my only thought—my only purpose —is to protect my mate.

Someone dares shout over the chaos. “ Kill the Dragon! ”

I twist toward the voice. A SoulTaker general stands atop the outer wall, blade raised.

Fool.

I rear back and exhale a blast of fury.

Flame roars from my throat— pure silver edged with violet fury —and incinerates him where he stands.

It sweeps across the wall like a tidal wave of fire, obliterating the entire battalion at my gates.

Their screams are short.

Their punishment is eternal.

I land hard in the courtyard, stone shattering beneath me.

The last of the creatures scramble backward—but there’s no escape.

I look up to see my brothers fighting for my homeland and I’m filled with a mix of pride and humility.

Thorne crashes down like a storm beside the eastern wall.

Dagan barrels through the gate, smashing everything in his path.

Kael flies overhead on glowing mists that look like rainbows in the light, hurling spears of lightning into the fray.

Then I turn, and I see her.

Right beside the doorway where my viyella waits for me.

I shift back in a blur, still steaming from the battle, and the moment I can, I grab her.

“Kiss me later,” she snaps, breathless, eyes wild with adrenaline.

But I do it anyway.

I kiss her like the world is ending—because for a second, it almost did.

And then I press my forehead to hers, whispering the spell through gritted teeth, weaving ancient power into armor that blooms over her body.

Scales of my own dragon form, hard as myth, molded to fit her perfectly.

“You’ll still be able to move. Still fight,” I promise her.

She blinks, then looks down at herself. “Is this?—”

“Magic, Myrrin. Armor of my own skin for protection. And this knife is enchanted as well.”

I tuck the small blade into a sheath on her belt. I hate that she might have to use it, but it is there, should she need it.

“It’s beautiful,” she says eyes wide with wonder, and something else.

Fuck. She is so precious to me.

I cradle her face in one hand and my voice cracks as I gaze into her bright eyes.

“I’m sorry I took so long.”

Jules lifts her chin, fierce and glowing and so fucking pretty my heart breaks just looking at her.

She lifts her hand, fingers brushing my cheek, and I lean into the touch.

“You’re here now,” she breathes, fierce and trembling, her hands tangling in my hair, splaying over my chest like she’s anchoring herself to the only truth she can find. “And the people of the Eyrie need their Lord.”

“No, Myrrin,” I say, voice low and sure, though the ground still smolders with the echo of my rage. I press my forehead to hers, needing her closer, needing her alive, real, and with me.

Always with me.

“They need us. Both of us.”

She blinks, and a smile blooms across her face— soft and devastating, like the twin suns of the ancient stories, rising after the longest, darkest night.

And in that smile, I see home.

I set out to steal a human, to use her as a pawn in a game as old as Nightfall itself.

I had plans, dark ones. Clever ones. Ones that were meant to cheat the Fates.

But the Fates— fucking hell —the Fates saw right through me.

They gave me Jules.

Not the compliant, docile creature I expected. Not a tool. Not a means to an end.

They gave me fire and tenderness. Wit and courage.

A woman who fights for others. Who holds children behind her shield and storms a solar to defend her place beside me. Who challenges me, holds me accountable, calls me hers without apology.

I am so fucking grateful it wrecks me.

So unworthy of her, it nearly brings me to my knees.

But gods help me, I will spend every breath proving I’m not a mistake she regrets.

I will earn her. Every day. Every night.

Because she’s not just the woman Fate placed at my side.

She is the beating heart inside my chest.

More sacred than bloodlines. More valuable than magic. More real than any crown I’ve ever touched.

Jules is my whole heart.

And I will raze entire realms before I let the world take her from me.

“Then let’s do this together.”

Gods help me, I’ve never loved anyone more.

I raise my hands and call the spell.

Magic races from my palms, imbuing even more threads of protecting into the shimmering Dragon-scale armor around her body.

It is lightweight, impenetrable, and made of me.

Fitted to her form so she can still move, still fight. But safer now.

Because she is not just mine.

She is Nightfall’s.

And I’ll burn the realms before I lose her.