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keeran

NIARA!

I scream her name in my mind as they drag her away from me. My claws rake uselessly against the water barrier, each desperate swipe sending ripples across its surface but doing nothing to break it. Through our connection, her fear and desperation slice against me like a knife.

I’m so sorry , she repeats over and over again. Then she’s gone from my view, obscured by the large tents of the camp. The High Warden follows, his arrogant stride and self-satisfied smile burning into my memory. I will tear him apart for this. I will reduce him to ash.

But first, I need to get to her.

I batter at the cage for the rest of the night, calling out to Niara mentally, but she doesn’t respond. Her emotions are a whirlwind of fear, shame, and anger. I whisper words of comfort to her, hoping they penetrate, but not sure they are. It’s like she has already given up.

As dawn breaks, the camp bustles with activity. The flotilla prepares to depart, and I remain trapped in this watery prison. Wardens cast wary glances my way as they load the final supplies onto the ships. None approach too closely. They fear me—as they should.

Just like every other day since my capture, a group of Order priests and priestesses levitates my cage and places it below the decks of one of their sea crafts. I’m shut in the dark during the day with only the sound of the sea and the presence of small rodents for company.

The ship vibrates as the anchor rises, and then we are moving. Niara’s emotions burst in a new flurry of fear. I probe our connection, feeling it stretched taut like a thread of heated glass. The pressure builds at the back of my skull, a dull throb that promises worse to come.

It is undeniable proof of what I’ve sensed since I was first forced out of the volcano. We are fated mates. It is the rarest of bonds among my people, and somehow, I’ve started the twining with a Water Mage.

As the flotilla continues its journey west, the discomfort I’ve been feeling all morning blooms into pain, sharp and insistent. Each foot of distance between me and my mate is a new torture. We cannot be separated. Especially not now, so soon after the twining bond has begun to form.

My breathing grows ragged. Sweat beads on my skin, evaporating instantly against the heat of my body.

I close my eyes and see flashes—imagining what Niara is going through based on her emotions: her small body lying on a small raft.

The meager single day of food and water essentially a death sentence as she drifts along the Aurelian Sea.

She will not understand the pain wracking her muscles and bones. She won’t know why her body is betraying her this way.

The distance between us grows. The pain intensifies.

Something within me cracks open, a fault line of rage and desperation.

The magic of the curse that has been my burden for ten solars surges and shifts, reacting with the magic of the twining.

Ember Fae mates have been known to perform incredible feats in order to save their other halves.

I wrangle hold of this collision of powers, gripping it with everything I have inside of me.

Those who have separated me from my mate must pay.

In response to my emotion and will, my cursed form shifts and grows larger than the beast ever has before. The water cage, designed to contain a creature of a certain size, begins to strain.

Fire erupts from deep within me as I tap into a wellspring of primal magic that I’ve never felt before. The flames shoot outward in all directions, evaporating the spelled water that has been holding me captive. The cage is gone, and I sit on the wooden floorboards of the ship.

Steam fills the air, scalding and thick. I claw at the wood. It chars and splinters under my touch as the beast grows larger still. Then I stand, fists raised above me, and punch. The wooden ceiling shatters. I leap onto the deck of the ship above.

Wardens shout in alarm, hastily conjuring magefrost weapons that glitter like stars in the morning light. They throw spears and arrows at me, but the tips and blades melt before they make contact, droplets of water sizzling against my thick hide.

I throw my head back and release a roar that carries all my fury and pain. The sound is deafening, inhuman. The sea around the ship begins to bubble and boil, more steam rising to create a thick, impenetrable fog. The wardens’ voices grow panicked as visibility drops to nothing.

I flex my muscles and flames shoot out of my skin, searing the very flammable ship. The vessel groans and shudders beneath me. The water churns violently as parts of the ship begin to break away and sink.

Chaos erupts. As fire races across the deck, some of the crew leap into the boiling water.

Their magecraft will probably save them from the scalding waves.

Meanwhile, the wardens stand their ground and fight, hurling weapons that do little more than annoy me in this state.

I am beyond pain now. I am rage incarnate, a force of destruction born of desperation and need.

“Keeran!”

A voice cuts through the roaring in my ears. Female, authoritative, but not Niara. I whirl around, ready to incinerate anyone who dares approach me.

Through the billowing steam, a figure emerges. It’s the female warden who stood at Niara’s side, the one whose tears betrayed her true feelings. She stands on a section of deck that hasn’t yet caught fire, her hands raised in a gesture of peace rather than preparing to attack.

“Keeran, stop! You want to save Niara, right?”

Her words are like cold water on my rage. Niara. Yes. This destruction serves no purpose if it doesn’t bring me closer to her .

“I can help you reach her,” the woman continues, her voice steady despite the fear I can smell coming off her in waves. “But you need to control yourself.”

I struggle against the beast, against the curse, against the pain of separation that threatens to drive me mad.

A particularly sharp pulse through our bond nearly brings me to my knees—Niara is suffering, and I’m wasting time with this senseless destruction.

The High Warden is nowhere in sight. Were he here, then perhaps enacting my vengeance would make sense.

With monumental effort, I begin to shift, forcing my body back toward human form. But this far from the Obsidian Oculus, taking my natural shape is like swimming against a current of molten metal, every inch of progress agony. However, I push through, focusing on Niara’s face in my mind.

Finally, I stand before this Water Mage as a man, not a monster, though flames still lick at my skin and my eyes burn with inner fire. The ship continues to burn around us, tilting dangerously as water floods its lower decks.

“What is your name?” I ask her.

“Safina. Niara is my best friend.”

I nod. “Thank you, Safina.”

“There’s a small boat on the far side,” Safina says, already moving. “Follow me.”

I stagger after her, weakness hitting me now that the rage has subsided. The pain of separation remains, a constant throb in my bones. We reach a small craft, barely big enough for one person, tied to the sinking ship.

“Get in,” she commands. “And take this.” She tosses me a rough cloth sack. “Figure out how to... cover up. ”

The transformation leaves me naked, and I wrap the sack around my waist.

“I’ll enchant the dinghy with a tracking spell. It will take you directly to her.”

“You’re not coming?” I ask, my voice rough from the roaring. “She will surely ask after you.”

She firms her lips. “I need to stay. I can delay anyone who might follow you.” She grasps hold of a bracelet of blue and green beads around her wrist and takes a deep breath, her eyes growing unfocused with concentration. Beneath her hand, the bracelet begins to glow.

“Go now,” she says.

“Why are you helping me?” I manage to ask as I climb into the craft.

Safina’s eyes meet mine, determination shining in them. “Niara is my sister in all but blood. She risked everything to save you, and I would do anything for her. Now go. The spell won’t last forever.”

She cuts the rope tethering the little boat, which immediately begins to move, cutting through the water at an unnatural speed, away from the burning wreckage and toward shore. Toward Niara.

I collapse at the bottom of the craft, fighting to maintain human form as the distance between us begins to close.

Hold on, Niara. I’m coming.