I was supposed to stay hidden. Safe.
But I refused to die crushed beneath concrete, sinking to the bottom of the Atlantic.
I bolted from my hiding place and sprinted toward the swaying staircase. As I neared the metal door I’d entered through earlier, it suddenly swung open.
Rory Rey filled the frame.
Her fair skin was smeared with smoke and soot, her green uniform shredded in several places. Her expression, cold and sharp, never wavered. She didn’t show fear. She didn’t show anything.
Still, I asked, “Are you okay?”
We weren’t friends. We weren’t even allies. She’d gladly see me fail in any other circumstance. But right now, in this chaos, we were on the same side.
“No time for chitchat,” she snapped. “The tower’s falling apart. And as much as I’d prefer you buried under a few tons of concrete, I should not let you die.”
She grabbed my arm and yanked me out.
The moment we stepped onto the open terrace, the world changed. What had been a bright blue sky earlier was now suffocated in swirling gray, a mix of dragon fire smoke, Sunheart flare, and the electric storms conjured by storm wielders. The air stank of ozone: lightning and rain magic thick in the atmosphere.
No one was visible through the haze, not on the terrace, not in the sky, but the growls of dragons vibrated through the clouds above us.
The tower trembled again. Another strike somewhere below.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Dragon fire, it is crushing the concrete beneath us,” Rory said curtly. “Move.”
She released my arm, but her glare made it clear I was expected to follow as she led us toward the narrow metal bridge connecting our tower to the other, a half mile away.
“Where is everyone?” I pressed. “Where are we going?”
“You don’t stop talking, do you?” she muttered, irritated.
“Lorik, Ugo, and Marla are fighting in the lower terraces. We’re heading to the other tower. This one is severely damaged.”
Everything in me screamed not to trust her. But the tower beneath us shuddered again, metal groaning, and I knew staying behind wasn’t stubborn, it was suicidal. If Rory wanted me dead, she could’ve left me in the collapsing stairwell.
I stepped onto the bridge. Then another step. The world around us dissolved into smoke. I couldn’t see more than an arm’s length ahead.
The bridge swayed, but I kept my pace steady. Rory trailed close behind.
Screams and magical clashes rose from far below, sunlight blasts, shadow ruptures, dragons shrieking. It wasn’t the time to be curious, but my mind refused to stay quiet.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked, eyes fixed on the path ahead.
“I’m not helping you. I’m following orders,” she spat. “Don’t get sentimental.” “Whose orders?”
Rory hesitated. Barely a heartbeat, but enough.
“Lorik,” she said.
That stopped something in my chest. Lorik hated me. She hated me. And yet here they both were, keeping me alive.
We were nearly across the bridge when a low, guttural growl rumbled above us. A dragon. I couldn’t see it through the smoke, but the sudden gust of air from its wings brushed my face.
“Run!” Rory shouted.
We surged forward but a massive crimson shape dropped out of the sky, landing on the narrow bridge ahead. I skidded to a halt.