The last thing I see before the clubhouse disappears is the fractured crystal dome, where my flame once burned.
Now my flame is burning inside me.
Burning forher.
Burning for usboth.
And I swear on every scale of my dragon’s hide that I’ll bring Roxy home, no matter how many fae I have to freeze, burn, or shatter to do it.
The Seelie Court has no idea what’s coming.
But they will.
They’ll learn what it means to take something from a dragon who’s finally found balance.
And they’ll pay the price in blood and the ashes of their empire.
Chapter Twenty-Five
RAZE
The portal spits us out onto ground that shouldn’t exist. Crystallized starlight stretches in every direction beneath my boots, the surface solid enough to bear weight but translucent enough to reveal constellations frozen in layers beneath the surface. The fortress looms ahead, impossibly tall spires carved from moonlight, walls that pulse with captured aurora borealis, architecture that defies every law of physics I’ve learned in three centuries of existence. The air tastes of winter solstice and old magic, cold enough to burn going down but not cold enough to freeze a dragon who carries ice in his veins alongside fire.
Behind me, my brothers emerge through the portal one by one. Scar materializes first, vampire speed making him a blur even in transition, red eyes already scanning for threats as his flesh continues to smoke from the iron-laced fae magic that caught him during the siege. Wreck follows, gaunt frame unfolding from shadow with the hollow-eyed stillness of a wendigo freshly fed, hunger banked but far from gone, and the fortress itself seems to recoil slightly from his presence. Wreck’s nightmare aura billows outward like smoke given malice, feeding on the ambient fear that permeates this place, growing stronger with each breath. Coil slithers through in basilisk form, scales gleaming black and bronze against the starlit ground before he shifts upward into something more humanoid, tongue flickering as he tastes enchantments woven through the fabric of this realm.
Maul steps through in full werewolf form, eight feet of corded muscle and dark fur, claws already extended and dripping anticipation. Thorn emerges covered in thorns and bleeding sap,the forest spirit looking diminished here in a realm so divorced from living earth, but still dangerous in ways that make fae magic hesitate.
Flux shifts through three forms in as many seconds, settling finally on something vaguely humanoid but fundamentally predatory, amber eyes glowing with the kind of hunger that comes from tracking prey across impossible distances. Ruckus appears, leprechaun magic crackling gold around his fists, luck and mischief weaponized into something that can reshape probability itself.
The prospects follow. Calder’s fox-fire flickers weakly around his hands as he takes in the fortress with wide eyes. Rhett and Bennett emerge side by side, the hellhound and angel both bloodied from battle but still sniping at each other even now.
“Try not to get your wings singed,feathers,”Rhett mutters.
Bennett’s response is immediate. “Try not to trip over your own shadows,mutt.”
Then Ivy, Ash, and Luna step through. The tree nymph’s autumn-leaf hair shifts to winter-bare branches in response to the cold, her connection to living things muted here but not severed. Ash manifests partial flame wings, phoenix fire burning low but steady as she assesses defensive positions with professional efficiency. Luna’s selkie eyes reflect the crystallized stars, her water magic already reaching for moisture in air too dry to support it properly, but she adapts, pulling condensation from our breath and the frozen starlight itself.
The portal closes behind us with a sound like breaking glass, and the finality of it settles across my shoulders like a weight.
No retreat.
No second chances.
We get Roxy back, or we die trying.
“Outer defenses ahead,” Scar reports, vampire senses cutting through illusions and enchantments that would blind lessercreatures. “Three layers deep. Fae warriors, probably fifty strong. Magic barriers between each layer.”
I don’t waste time with strategy or speeches. Fire and ice spiral together beneath my skin, no longer fighting for dominance but working in perfect, terrible harmony, and I stride toward the fortress with my brothers falling into formation behind me.
The air resists us.
This realm knows we do not belong here. Moonlight bends wrong around my scales, crystal spires hum with warding magic that prickles against my skin like static, and somewhere above, wings beat once, twice, a warning carried through silver air.
The first layer of fae guards appears from behind pillars of crystallized moonlight, armor gleaming silver and green, weapons already drawn and humming with enchantments designed to kill dragons. Twenty warriors arrayed in perfect formation, their movements synchronized by magic that connects them into a single lethal organism.
They don’t wait to be hit.
Silver sigils ignite beneath their feet, lines of starlight snapping upward into a lattice that drops toward us like a falling cage. Arrows made of condensed moonfire streak down from unseen heights, whistling past my horns close enough to burn.