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RHAEGAR

T he mountains loom like broken fangs , jagged and hungry against the sickly pale glow of the twin moons. The Ashen Wastes stretch before us, an expanse of cracked obsidian ground , pitted with veins of glowing magma that snake through the desolation like open wounds.

The air is heavy with sulfur and old magic , the kind that lingers in the bones of the dead. The sky above is a swirl of ashen clouds , streaked with lightning that flickers without sound.

I know this place, and I loathe it.

It is a land that devours the weak.

The kind of place where monsters are born, not made.

Fitting.

I glance to the side.

Nora stands on a fractured rock ledge , her dark hair whipping against the wind , strands catching on the faint glow of her newly awakened magic. She has been silent since we left the ruins, since I told her what we must do.

Since I promised her vengeance.

She hasn’t questioned me, not yet.

But she will.

And when she does, I will remind her that monsters do not get to choose their fate.

They become it.

"You brought us to the Wastes," she says finally, her voice even, but I hear the unease beneath it.

She should be uneasy.

The Ashen Wastes are a graveyard of forgotten wars , the ruins of ancient cities buried beneath layers of soot and decay. The air itself is tainted , saturated with the remnants of old, forbidden magics.

"We needed distance," I say, stepping closer, my boots grinding against the charred earth. "The dark elves will come looking for us. Your own people might as well."

She tenses at the mention of the Purna, but she does not argue.

Because she knows it’s true.

The Wastes are one of the few places even they won’t follow.

Nora wraps her arms around herself, her fingers twitching— a sign of restless magic. She hasn’t fully adjusted to what she is yet. What I have made her.

I watch as the silver glow flickers at her fingertips, erratic and hungry.

She still resists.

Still holds herself back.

"You need to push further," I say, moving to stand behind her. "You have power now, but you don’t use it."

Her back stiffens.

"I don’t want to lose control."

I smile.

"Control is a cage, little healer." I lean in , letting my voice drop to something dark and twisting , curling around the edges of her hesitation. "And you were not meant to be caged."

She shivers.

I feel the bond between us tighten , a pulse of something undeniable threading between us.

She feels it too.

But she denies it.

"Show me," I press, circling her now, forcing her to look at me.

She lifts her gaze, and I see it.

That flicker of confusion.

Not just at the magic. At me.

She hates me.

But she doesn’t fear me anymore.

And that is far more dangerous.

"What do you want me to do?" she asks, voice sharp, defiant.

Good.

I lift a hand, gesturing toward the jagged expanse before us. A valley of ruins, half-buried in the cracked earth.

"Destroy something."

Her lips part slightly, eyes widening. "What?"

"You heard me." I cross my arms, waiting. "Tear it apart. Burn it down. Show me what you are now. "

She hesitates.

Not because she can’t do it.

But because she wants to.

And she hates that she does.

"You don’t know what I’m capable of," she says, but there’s something in her voice— something trembling at the edges.

I smirk.

"That’s the point."

Her hands clench into fists.

I can feel her pulse spike through the bond, feel the war inside her, the part of her that was raised to heal , fighting the thing she is becoming.

For a moment, I think she will refuse.

She moves.

The magic erupts from her like a blade unsheathed, slicing through the still air.

The ground beneath us shudders , and cracks split through the valley.

Stone crumbles.

Shattered ruins collapse in on themselves, dust spiraling into the air like the breath of a dying god.

A wave of heat pulses outward , licking at my skin, sharp and alive.

And Nora, sh e is something else entirely.

Her eyes burn brighter , her body rigid, chest heaving with the force of what she has just done. The wind howls around her, lifting strands of her hair, the air itself bowing to her.

She doesn’t look human.

She looks divine.

I take a step toward her.

"Do you feel it now?" I murmur.

She swallows hard, her gaze flickering to mine.

I see something new in her eyes.

Not just power or fear.

Hunger.

It is a terrifying thing.

And I enjoy what she’s becoming. Corruption is a beautiful thing.