Without warning, she opened her mouth and a blast of icy dragonfire roared toward them, crackling blue and white, freezing the air as it ripped forward.

  Malachite had no time to think. She just moved.

  With a fierce shout, she hurled her shield up, throwing her full weight in front of Imogen. The icy blast slammed into her, knocking her off her feet, the force sending her skidding back, her skin flashing briefly, painfully, as the magic scraped across her body.

  “Mal!” Imogen screamed, reaching out

  But Elise was already moving, her half-shifted body sleek and fast, surging forward. With one brutal shove, she pushed Imogen backward hard, sending her stumbling toward the edge of the cliff.

  Imogen’s foot slipped.

  The ground vanished beneath her.

  She fell.

  But just as the scream tore from her throat, a blur of motion leapt after her.

  Malachite.

  Wounded. Half-shifted. Blood streaked down her ribs, one eye nearly swollen shut.

  But she leapt without hesitation.

  Her arms locked around Imogen midair, iron-tight.

  “Hold onto me!” Malachite shouted over the wind.

  Imogen clutched at her burying her face against Malachite’s shoulder.

  Mal’s other arm snapped outward, claws exploding from her fingers mid-shift. She slammed them into the cliff wall in a desperate attempt to slow their fall.

  Sparks flew. The stone cracked.

  But the momentum of their combined weight was too much.

  Her claws tore through the rock, leaving deep gashes, but couldn’t stop them.

  They struck a jagged outcrop jutting from the cliffside. The impact jolted them, spun them and Malachite twisted in the air, gritting her teeth.

  She turned.

  Curled.

  Her body shifted skin cracking open into heavy plates of stone, horns thickening into jagged spikes. A rough, primal dragon skull of raw rock formed over half her face, teeth bared in an echo of ancient fury.

  Her bones cracked mid-fall, reshaping with brutal precision.Her spine thickened. Her skin hardened. Her shoulders widened, limbs turning heavier, more monstrous.

  “Hold your breath!” Imogen yelled.

  Malachite twisted midair just enough to shield Imogen with her armored body and looked up one last time.

  At the cliff’s edge, Elise stood motionless, silver hair whipping in the wind.

  And she was smiling.

  Cold. Cruel. Triumphant.

  Malachite’s back hit the water like a battering ram.

  The impact was brutal. It ripped the air from her lungs and sent shockwaves through her body. Her chest seized, and before she could stop herself

  She gasped.

  A rush of icy water flooded into her throat, her lungs burning instantly as the river swallowed them whole.

  They plunged fully under, the freezing current grabbing hold and dragging them down, fast and merciless.

  Stunned, struggling, Malachite tried to twist, tried to kick upward but the weight, the armor, the force was too much.

  The river tore through a crumbling ledge, pulling them into a sudden drop, a black void beneath the surface. They were sucked downward, spinning through collapsing stone and roaring water.

  The current yanked them into a deep, echoing cavern below.

  They fell again, helpless and disoriented, until they slammed into the underground pool, the impact breaking the surface like a fist through glass.

  Darkness swallowed everything.

  Malachite broke the surface with a ragged gasp, hauling Imogen up with her. She coughed hard, each breath scraping her throat raw as she fought to drag them toward the jagged, slick shore.

  Her body shook violently. Cracks split through the rocky armor plating her skin deep fissures carved by the brutal fall. Her muscles screamed with every stroke, every motion powered by sheer stubborn will.

  Imogen scrambled beside her, shivering, gasping, her eyes wide as they adjusted to the dim glow of the cavern walls lit by veins of crystal pulsing faintly with ethereal light.

  “…Mal…” she whispered, voice shaking. “Where are we?”

  Malachite slumped forward, dragging herself halfway out of the water. Her face was pale beneath the stone. Her breath came in broken, rasping pulls.

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  “Somewhere… very deep,” she panted, forcing a crooked grin through the pain. “Looks like we just bought the deluxe tour, huh?”

  Imogen let out a broken laugh, tears mixing with river water on her cheeks.

  “Mal, you’re insane…”

  Malachite gave a low, rattling chuckle, thumping a fist weakly against her armored chest.

  “Yeah… but you’re alive, aren’t you, queenie?”

  Malachite collapsed onto the rocky bank, her body trembling. Her stone-plated armor was cracked in several places, spiderwebbing along her arms, shoulders, and back where the fall had hit hardest but it hadn’t shattered, it held.

  Her leg, bare from where the armor hadn't fully formed, was scraped and badly bruised, the skin mottled with deep reddish-browns already forming from the impact.

  Thick, dark blood seeped from the cracks between her plates, trailing sluggishly down her side. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps.

  Imogen knelt beside her, eyes wide not just with worry, but awe.

  Malachite’s half-shifted form glistened in the glow of the cavern’s crystal light. Jagged stone plates ran along her limbs and spine, and through the cracks in her armor, coppery veins shimmered faintly beneath her skin—like molten metal, pulsing with some hidden rhythm.

  Imogen reached out, her fingers hovering near one of the glowing lines.

  “…You’re beautiful,” she whispered.

  Malachite flinched.

  A flush crept up her face, and she looked away quickly, shifting uncomfortably. “Don’t say that.”

  Her voice was gruff, uncertain. “It’s just how I look when I shift. I know it’s… weird.”

  Imogen blinked, confused. “Weird?”

  Malachite let out a short, rough laugh. “Drakes aren’t exactly admired, you know? We’re built for war, not for looks. Most people see this and think I’m half-mountain, half-paving stone.”

  She winced, her bruised leg twitching slightly.

  “Honestly, I probably look like a cracked kitchen tile.”

  Imogen shook her head, her voice low but firm. “You look like a mountain that got up and chose violence. And I’ve never seen anything stronger.”

  Malachite stared at her, stunned into silence. And just for a moment, despite the pain, despite the cold she smiled.

  No one had ever looked at her like that like she wasn’t just a weapon. Like she was worth seeing.

  Warmth bloomed through her chest at Imogen’s words, melting past the ache and the cracked armor. She felt it sincerity, like sunlight through fog and for a breath, it steadied her more than any shield.

  A soft rustle of stone echoed through the cavern. Malachite’s eyes snapped toward the sound instantly, her smile fading. She caught the brief shift of rocks, a faint scrape just past the edge of the glowing crystal wall.

  Imogen jumped slightly, startled, her gaze whipping toward the noise.

  Malachite’s sharper vision picked out the disturbance, but nothing moved again.

  She mouthed to herself, jaw tightening:

  Your job is to protect her with your life, if it comes to that.

  Darius’s voice echoed in her skull, sharp as the pain lacing her side.

  Somewhere in the dark, another stone clicked softly against the cavern floor.

  Imogen flinched again, eyes wide.

  Silence followed. The cavern felt like it was holding its breath.

  Imogen turned back to Malachite, panic starting to rise in her expression.

  Malachite clenched her jaw and forced her body upright with a guttural snarl of sheer willpower, stone grinding as she moved.

  Imogen scrambled to her side, soaking wet and shivering, her eyes flicking anxiously over her.

  “Mal you’re hurt we need to stop, we need to rest.”

  Before she could spiral further, Malachite turned and flashed her a crooked, brilliant grin. Blood dripped from her arm. Her whole body trembled under the strain.

  But her eyes still sparkled with warmth.

  “Pfft. Please,” she said, breathless. “This? Nothing. I’ve had worse slipping on ice outside the forge.”

  Imogen’s throat tightened. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

  “Mal… you’re bleeding.”

  Malachite laughed hoarsely but defiant. She pushed herself up further, even as the cracks in her armor scraped and flared with pain.

  “Yeah, yeah. Just adds character.” She winked then winced, but tried to play it off.

  “Come on, queenie. We’ve got a mysterious glowing cave to explore, right?”

  Imogen grabbed her arm, desperation in her grip. “You need to rest.”

  Malachite’s hand closed over hers shaking.

  “I’m fine,” she said, softer now, but no less fierce. “As long as you’re okay… I’m fine.” But inside, her whole body screamed.

  Her bones ached, her muscles burned, every movement was a battle not to collapse. But she kept the grin wide, kept her voice light, because she saw it, the fear glimmered in Imogen’s eyes. And the last thing Malachite would ever let happen… Was letting her queen fall apart in a cold, dark cave.

  Her breath came in ragged bursts as she moved, positioning herself in front of Imogen with quiet, deliberate force. Her rocky arms spread wide, her stance braced despite the tremble in her battered legs.

  Her hammer and shield are gone. All she had now was her bruised, half-shifted body and sheer, bone-deep stubbornness.

  Imogen clutched at her arm from behind, her fingers trembling.

  “Mal… Mal, you’re hurt. We shouldn’t go any farther, we should wait for Darius and Axel. We don’t know what’s down here… and I have a feeling we’re not alone.”

  Malachite turned her head slightly, just enough to catch her gaze. And despite the blood, despite the shaking, despite the cracks in her armor. She flashed a lopsided grin that somehow steadied the ground beneath their feet.

  Her brown eyes glinted faintly, soft at the edges even as pain shadowed her face.

  “Hey,” she said softly, voice rough but calm. “Look at me, queenie.”

  Imogen’s eyes filled with tears but she met her gaze.

  Malachite gave a tiny nod. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Her voice softened, gentle now like she was comforting a frightened sibling.

  “I’ve got you. I always will.” She gave a faint, playful wink, even as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. “Besides you’ve got that fancy magic and a face that could stop wars.” Her smile tilted with dry humor. “I’m just the shield, remember?”

  Imogen’s throat clenched. A single tear slipped down her cheek.

  “Mal…”

  Malachite turned back toward the dark.

  Hissss.

  A faint, wet sound echoed through the cavern, unnatural. Hungry.

  She tensed. Cracked fists curled tight at her sides. Then she moved arms widening, stance bracing again, her body the barrier between Imogen and the creeping, slithering shapes just out of sight.

  “Stay close,” she murmured, her grin sharpening. Fierce now. Ready. “I don’t care how big these bastards are, they want you, they’re going through me first.”

  Another rumble, low, deep, guttural. It slithered around them in the dark. The glimmering shape moved closer, massive, reptilian, ancient.

  Malachite drew a ragged breath. Her spine straightened.

  Her whole body trembled.

  Hold the line, she told herself. Protect the queen. Hold the damn line.