I grit my teeth, analyzing Scorius, Renesta, Casterban… and all of the elites hell-bent on striking this man down. Legions in the sky atop their mounts point their weapons. They were all bred the same, to be soldiers. It’s a stroke of luck I survived the sub-tier. Now… what am I going to do with what I’ve been given?

  “Mortal.” Boeru twists his head toward me. “Whatever you decide… I will follow.”

  I clench my jaw. The declaration sends a shiver down my spine. Even knowing his sister is up there, he chooses to adhere to me.

  “As will I,” Dovesier growls from far away.

  “And I,” the others roar.

  “This isn’t right,” I say aloud, looking to my friends.

  “I agree.” Layla swallows past a lump. “It looks like we’re about to witness an execution.”

  “It will be a battle,” Jurso says. “There are many hidden, it seems. That’s why this creep is all smiles.” He nods toward Renesta.

  I can transcend rank if I unleash my full power. I can help defend.

  “Shoot to kill, Efias,” Foren demands.

  “It will be done,” Efias promises.

  “Step aside, my fellow comrades.” Casterban waves his defensive followers away. “Let me be a martyr to the generation to come. Then you’ll see, Brother. No matter how hard you try and mold soldiers, there will be souls who know good and evil.” He raises his hands higher to show how serious he is, and even closes his Elden fissure.

  “The fool.” Scorius grits his teeth. “Seals off his own escape.”

  “Why would he do that?” Renesta’s smile falls. “Without him—”

  “What happens without him?” I ask.

  “Access to our tier becomes impossible,” she replies. “Our cause will be lost.”

  “Not lost, child,” Scorius says.

  “This is all wrong.” I look at my hands. “I’ve been hiding all this time… for what? What am I fighting for?” I spin on my friends. “My brother doesn’t even recognize me. Our families sent us to slaughter. What is our reward for surviving? Making fine soldiers to a realm that bleeds us? Screw that.”

  Lay clenches her fist hard around her shield.

  Rogo sucks his teeth. “Elshard made us better, Hale. All of us.”

  “It’s true,” I admit. “But look what our leader condones.” I throw my hand up toward the man standing tall on his ice-sculpted tower. “Kill an unarmed man who asks for nothing but words? Are we just going to take orders from the likes of him when he wins the war?”

  They all look at me blankly.

  “Well, I don’t think I could spend another day in Elshard if Casterban dies at Foren’s hand,” I say. “Are you with me?”

  “Always.” Misty twists her hilts to be down facing. “Don’t know what a couple of new iron ranks can really do out there, but I know my formations like the back of my hand.”

  “And my stances like the back of mine.” Lay nods at me.

  “A potentially lethal dose of spice should count for at least one damn elite, right?” Rogo draws his axe.

  Renesta scans us. “I knew Boeru marked us all for a reason.”

  A surge of adrenaline pumps through my veins. After all this time, Scorius was grooming me just as much as the Sept, just as much as House Mother, all for different reasons… all to be the same thing.

  I am the dragonborn, bonded four times over.

  “I hope you’re all ready to ride into battle,” I scowl, removing the mental barriers blocking Boeru’s brothers. The warring dark barrels through me, followed by the aggression of four dragons competing to manifest. I push my friends lightly aside to have a grand view of the most highly decorated elite warriors I’ve ever seen, all channeling to take down one unarmed man.

  “Hey!” I call, against all sense and reason. “Why not just hear him out?”

  The other cadets turn to me—thousands strong. Many first years and all the others in attendance make me doubt there’s even one body left in the sanctum after the commotion. Growls of distaste resonate from high-society cadets who would never abandon Miria’s side.

  “Dragonborn, can’t you see he’s conjuring a spell?” a cadet calls at my back.

  “Those are spirits, you numbskull!” Misty shouts.

  “Traitor! The dragonborn is a traitor!”

  A heavily armored elite atop a full-grown wyvern peers down at us. “Head Magus, I think it time you temper your cadets. An ice entombment would do nicely. This way we can handle our… situation.”

  “Hear him out!” Fiora the shapeshifter calls, stepping up to the Elden conjuring ledge.

  “Traitor!”

  I look around me. Small fights break out within the crowd, ignited by a clash of allegiance versus curiosity. Could these long wars really be stopped? Who would maintain control? Would our magi dissolve without access to the afterlife?

  It doesn’t matter. No more orphans have to die to awaken spirits.

  Kane, if you’re in there, watch me. Remember who we are.

  I summon the anger of four dragons twisting around me.

  Efias’s sword swirls with purple essence—warring dark mixed with high-magic fire I’ve never seen. “You’ve exhausted your last lifeline. Die!” As he swings his sword, time slows, like it has in so many instances in battle.

  The warring dark takes over in my mind—the ocean coaxing me with the shared intent of my bloodline. The hate Efias feels for his brother is the exact opposite I hold for my brother. Where did you go so wrong?

  “Don’t kill him!” I roar. “Father!”

  Lightning sparks around me.

  Thunderous clouds form overhead.

  As Casterban shuts his eyes to accept Efias’ attack, as a purple streak transcends space and time—activating a weaponry magic far beyond my knowing—a stationary swing from atop Efias’ dragon somehow opens a dark fissure starting above Casterban’s shoulder.

  I see it happening so clearly. The magi slash forming, cutting down… it’s going to pierce his neck. All of his defenders scramble to try and stop it. I can see it all.

  And I’ll be damned if I do nothing.

  “Dovesier!” I syphon all of his dominant lightning into my body, acting as a conduit with no guardrails. And with a flicker of all-knowing precision, I strike my father.

  A spiraling bolt of lightning sears like a blindingly bright snake straight from my fist all the way up to his descending arm.

  Krrcht!

  A man’s gasp echoes throughout the sky, and his sword goes tumbling from his hand. Gauntlet sizzling… the whole world stands still.

  Everyone goes silent. The elites turn to me. My friends stare in awe, the cadets of my sanctum halt their fighting.

  And it’s there four full-grown dragon spirits stomp over the masonry as I ready to command any of their powers on a whim. I am unleashed.

  “What do my eyes show me?” Efias turns in shock, his dragon complaining at his failed strike.

  “All that you hoped and more, Brother.” Casterban opens his eyes, smiling serenely. “The soul always wins in the end.”

  “That is what you’ve been hiding,” Foren growls at me. “How?”

  “A bond with no limits,” Casterban calls from the sky. “Unheard of. Mythos of the oldest times utter no words of what we’re seeing.”

  Foren turns his gaze to the unbonded. “You, Scorius? Of all people. You have been hiding this?”

  “It’s time for us to depart.” Scorius summons his wing.

  “You’ll be executed for your crime, Prominent!” Foren roars. “Traitor to the empire!”

  “Look here, Foren! I will accept myself as the martyr, but not the sub-tier orphan who’s already dealt with enough of this empire’s wrath,” Casterban says.

  As a myriad of spells are hurled in all directions, Scorius expands his wing over us. He mutters some dark incantation in a language I’ve never heard, and I’m whisked into the plane of red sky and black ocean. Scorius, my marked, we’re all here.

  “Follow me, quickly.” Scorius glides over the ebbing waves.

  “The fuck is this place?” Misty draws her daggers.

  “The opposite of bliss, I’ll tell you that.” Jurso looks around.

  “Hale, c’mon.” Layla points to my Prominent.

  “Kane… Sefene… there’s so much we’re leaving behind,” I say. My dragons form around me. “I want to fight.”

  “You must first evade the eye of Miria’s most vile,” Scorius’ voice carries from afar. “Do not be the fool, Dragonborn. Hurry!”

  A screech begs me to turn my head, where vile ghouls and damning creatures rear out of the dark ocean.

  “Do you think I’m the only one who can access this plane? Hurry!” Scorius shouts.

  My astonished walk quickly turns into a run. I’m sprinting beside Layla, watching Boeru, Dovesier, Kelfore, and Risorgus soar over my head.

  Determination floods my veins. “Wherever we wind up, Boe, Lay, we fight. Casterban is our answer. He possesses Elden magic, and he wants to put a stop to the madness.”

  “Yes, mortal,” Boe agrees.

  “This is hell.” Lay looks over her shoulder in horror.

  “This is where I’ve been spending a lot of my nights,” I say.

  “No wonder you’re all screwed up.” She manages a nervous laugh.

  “They’re gaining on us!” Jurso shouts.

  I grit my teeth, digging harder, remembering that this place has nothing to do with my physical strength but rather my magical. My bond with Boe… that is my power. Feeling connected to him as I rush propels me faster.

  But Layla is faltering.

  “Think of your stances, Lay! Your defensive anti-magic. That’s all that matters here. We’re just projections!”

  “That doesn’t make sense! Then where are our real bodies?”

  “Scorius is transporting them!”

  It’s no use. She’s falling behind, tripping over her bulky armor, unfamiliar with this hazy plane.

  I look over my shoulder, cursing to myself as a sea of powerful-looking souls gain on us. One bulky warrior of shadowy wisps has molten cuts for muscles, and another beast rushes on all fours. Most are soldiered warriors with liquid-gas armor.

  Then I see him…

  Peeking through the forefront of elites.

  Kane.

  He smiles his ghoulish smile—fangs out—hungry to devour my marked.

  “Lay! Move!” I shout, watching her lack of magi slow her down. “Risorgus, grab her!”

  The dragon swoops low, only for a one-winged hawk to intercept. The spirits tangle, crashing into the ocean.

  Gods. That’s Dyrlen, Scorius’ hawk.

  The growing stampede of dark users are about to catch her.

  Taking a deep breath, I skid over the turbulent water, pivot, and scrape a fistful of warring dark matter, using my symbiotic and antagonistic bonds in unison to turn on the army.

  “Boe, give me fire!”

  “With pleasure.” Boe beats his massive wing, halting midair with a momentous gust, and soars in the other direction with one more beat.

  “Dragonborn.” Scorius appears in front of me. “In war, you must learn to make sacrifices.”

  “That’s what I’m doing.” I swipe him out of my way—turning him into a pile of black feathers that reforms into him beside me.

  “If they catch us, I cannot hide our real bodies,” he growls.

  “Then go, take the others!” I say.

  “If you’re ever to be a king, Dragonborn, you must learn to move your pieces.”

  “Then I’ll be a different gods-damn king!” I leap in front of Layla, heart pounding as Kane leads the charge. They’re seconds from overwhelming.

  The ocean rumbles like a pulsing ground. I refuse to sink. I refuse to bow.

  Staring down a stampede of smoky black water and its ethereal forces is like some half-remembered nightmare. I pull my dagger and swing it in a blurring circle, ready to decapitate whatever ghoulish force decides to leap first.

  “Hale, I’m sorry.” Layla holds her chest.

  “Let me guard you for once, Lay. Even if it is our last—”

  Boeru exhales a hose of blue fire that ignites the front lines, melting them back into the ocean and providing a glimmer of hope. But my brother flips high over the flames.

  “Dragons! Help!” I call as Kane’s claws form through his black, corroded skin, dashing like a blurring lightning bolt.

  It’s too late. Kane sprints far ahead of the other soldiers, his slippery form disappearing and reforming until he’s mere feet in front of me. Loosing my dagger hits nothing but a glob of formless, black essence that solidifies and drags my arm down. The slivers snake and solidify once more, this time into the ghoul that Kane’s become.

  We’re face to face for an eternal second before he grabs my throat with terrible force.

  “Brother,” I choke.

  “Mine! He’s mine!” Kane calls a tornado barrier, forcing the dark users to converge around me.

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  Scorius battles his war-hawk. My marked come rushing to my side, only to be assaulted from all ends.

  But he already has me. He can squash my neck like a bug. Impale me through the stomach.

  “My prize,” Kane’s raspy voice carries. “Miria will rule. And I will be the one to carry them.”

  “Like a good little puppet.” Layla fails to get to her feet. “Kane the beloved. What happened to you?”

  Black wisps wrap around her arms and legs like laces, dragging her under.

  “Kane… this isn’t you.” I grab his arm with both my hands, fighting his immense warring dark, attempting to syphon it for myself.

  My dragons crisscross overhead, showering the elite army with their dark-infused elements.

  “You’ve been hiding from us,” Kane says. “Hiding great power for the empire.”

  “Listen to yourself. You’re the one who showed me the way. Training me in here… what was it all for?”

  “To build you into a killer, of course.” He shakes his head. “You had your chance to join me. Now suffer a traitor’s fate!” He holds up his claw, aiming to jab it through my chin. There’s an instant of hesitation. A moment where he grits his teeth.

  “This isn’t you, Kane! Remember the sub-tier. You protected me!”

  “For nothing,” he scowls.

  He lunges, claws coating with a dark magi I cannot contest.

  I shut my eyes, digging for my spirits’ power. But I’m crippled. My brother must’ve resided in this plane for all his days and all his nights. Where I wield the wrath of gods in reality… I’m nothing here.

  Chng!

  A flash of light blinds me. The pressure around my neck disappears entirely, giving me a moment to gasp for my breath while blinking in quick succession. My vision clears to the army of dark users tumbling back like a reverse tidal wave, and a white-orange dragon standing at the forefront.

  “Sefene,” I say in awe, then clamor to get Layla to her feet.

  My dragons chase the tumbling army, burning, icing, and clobbering whoever they can, all while the female rewinds her bliss into her chest.

  “Mighty mortal.” Her voice is fierce yet soothing, like I remember in all those prime bubble memories. “I’ve been watching you.”

  “And we’ve been chasing you! You nearly drove me and Boeru mad trying to find you.”

  “All things are as they must be.” She turns, spreading her mixed-colored wings. “There is no time. Follow the unbonded to his location. You must hurry.”

  “Come with us,” I say, holding out my hand. “Reunite with your brother. My bond has plenty of room, apparently.”

  She chuffs, kicking out golden smoke. “That’s precisely why I’m here.”

  ***

  We all gather over the red dawn, our boots sizzling over the ocean of darkness. My dragons haven’t returned from fighting, but I think it’s for the best—buying us time so we can escape back to our bodies.

  “This is the coordinate.” Scorius bends down with a shaky set of legs, using his cane for balance. He presses his palm flat against the ocean, where he pulls a feather.

  “Sneaky bastard. You used your wing to move us,” Jurso says. “Reduced us all to shadows.”

  “Quiet,” he barks. “Transporting this much mass is no easy task.”

  “Are the dragons alright?” Lay asks, still taking labored breaths. She’s obviously struggling in this plane.

  “I’ve left them here for months at a time. I think they’ll be fine,” I say.

  “Warring afterlife spirits recharge here. As do true dark users,” Renesta says. “That’s why Jurso can’t stop pumping bliss into his heart. Unless of course you’re relapsing.”

  “Screw off, lady.” Jurso presses his hand to his chest.

  “—And why little miss magic-less Layla can’t even stand,” Ren goes on.

  “Not all of us like to soak in our own grime,” Lay growls.

  “In the times that come, all of us are going to have to roll up our sleeves,” Ren says. “I hope you’re all prepared is all.”

  “Four dragons, Hale.” Rogo clicks his tongue.

  “Make that five.” Layla points in the distance to Sefene.

  “That one just saved all our lives.” Scorius rises, pulling up a vortex surrounding my marked.

  “Yeah, well, I prefer the one flip-bashing every dark warrior he comes across. More my style.” Rogo bares his teeth as our bodies start to fade.

  “Kelfore? You can have him.” I smile.

  The next time I open my eyes, I’m mere feet away from the Elshard south entrance, far from where I last remember. Straight ahead in the distance, there’s a battle raging in the sky. Dragons hurl fire and mages set protective barriers. High magic and warring dark clash at levels I could only imagine when reading mythos in the sub-tier.

  It’s all real.

  It’s all happening before my eyes.

  A vise grips my heart when seeing cadets flying among them, attacking one another. I’m responsible for that. Taking a stand and promptly disappearing right after? That’s not who I am, not who I want to be.

  “We will rendezvous with Casterban in the side-tier,” Scorius says. “Come with me, I have to pick up a few things from my chamber before we depart.” He taps his cane with purpose, demanding us all to turn.

  I furrow my brow. “I’m not going anywhere, Prominent. Unless it’s straight into the fray.”

  “Like hell you are.” He spins on his heel and limps up to me, bending over his cane. “Time is too precious for your rebellious babble.”

  “My whole lineage is in there making a mess of things.” Flashes of my orphan siblings being casually incinerated in the Sept rush through my mind.

  “This is bigger than you, Dragonborn,” Scorius scowls.

  “Casterban shut himself out for this cause. What would we be if we let him die?”

  Scorius growls. “You are too much like him.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Renesta smirks.

  I turn to my friends. “We were cattle raised for slaughter in the Sept. Our brothers and sisters pit against one another, murdered. Now look. It happens again.” Warring dark pulses around me, as do my dragons roaring from their half-formed silhouettes. “Our wardens show their true colors once more. Would we not be fools to fall into this same trap, now with the power to stop it?”

  “Let’s fucking go,” Rogo snarls. “Bash those Miria loyalists and save who we can.”

  “There are others worth trusting,” Lay agrees.

  “Scorius, I’m the only cadet who can transcend rank.” I ball my fist, manifesting each of my dragons under my marked. Rogo grips the manifested handles of Kelfore with eager determination, Renesta holding on tight right behind. Jurso grimaces as he fidgets to stay mounted on Dovesier—while Misty brandishes her dagger atop Risorgus. Layla can’t help but smile as Sefene forms beneath her.

  “Let me do my part,” I say.

  “I suppose an iron rank can make his own decisions,” Scorius murmurs, glancing at the dragons fully manifesting. “Protect him, you foolish spirits, or all is lost.” He whirls his cloak as he about-faces toward Elshard. “You will regret your zealousness, Dragonborn. But it is out of my hands.”

  “Sefene. Finally…” Boeru is in full form—gray scales and blue fire line every crevice of his body. “I’ve searched for millennia…”

  “My good brother. If Mother could see us now.” Sefene smiles, adjusting her back with Layla atop her.

  “Why didn’t you return to me?” Boeru shows his teeth. “I’ve scoured the afterlife, the dark plane, here!”

  “I could only blink from where I resided. Casterban is a careful Elden wielder,” Sefene says. “But you have chosen well in bonding with Haledyn Winbridge. He is a mortal with the curiosity of a tutor and the resolve of a dragon.”

  “We just have to make a general out of him,” Boeru chuffs.

  “How about we talk about him later?” I say. My eyes are glowing, arms crisscrossing with unfathomable energy. I can feel all of them. The dragons’ power is mine for the taking. Though something is different since she’s shown up…

  “The aura that was promised.” Renesta looks at her glowing mark, holding onto Rogo, both atop the largest dragon I have—Kelfore.

  “Aura? We have a gods-damn dragon.” Rogo twists the magi saddle handles into one more loop around his hands.

  “Don’t get too comfortable, you gluttonous hangnail,” Kelfore snarls. “I’m not like riding one of those hatchlings.”

  I pat Boe to turn and address the group. “We ride to disrupt the elites. Whatever war experience they’ve seen flows through us now, through this roost.” I tug on Boeru’s handle, causing him to puff his chest.

  “You fly with the Torn Wing now.” Boe’s eye glows hot white. “Do not forget it.”

  He’s talking to his siblings as much as my marked, and the words send a chill down my spine as he turns his back on the group. He dips his head, spreads his grand wing, and beats once to send a gust of air in my face.

  I’ve never been more determined in my life. Sefene comes from another tier where an Elden wielder has willing unbonded spirits cycling him. How? What does this man have that the kingdomonia do not?

  For one… he’ll have answers.

  As I soar closer to the immense battle, the pressure of roaring mages conjuring through the air creates an invisible storm as we enter the atmosphere. I think of Kane choking me in the dark realm—his moment of hesitation.

  He’s still in there. I lean forward on Boe’s back, watching it curl—scales shimmering in the light and massive muscles contorting as his wing beats.

  Dovesier pulls up beside us with Jurso atop him. His electricity pulses through me while Sefene glides to my right—gracefully guiding her bliss.

  “Haledyn,” Sefene’s voice carries through the wind. “The amount of energy you will expend to hold our manifestations… it will kill you if not careful.”

  “I’m not afraid to do my part.” My eyes pressurize with power. “This is my purpose. I know that now.”

  The aura bolsters at my declaration—and it’s there I realize it’s Sefene’s bliss helping to stabilize my energy. She’s the link we’ve all been missing. Balance… just like House Sivus preaches.

  A pang of guilt forms in my gut. Am I going against my house? The one who adopted me? Or would Lord Karloth agree with our plight?

  There’s so much I don’t know.

  “How do we track who’s good and bad?” Misty calls from atop Risorgus, her voice magically reaching my ears.

  “Aim for the defectors we know of. Head Magus. Efias. Anyone who threatens Casterban,” I declare.

  Efias circles his brother, his dragon weaving around the formless orb spirits protecting Casterban. Head Magus ices the air to below freezing temperatures, creating his own domain. I’ve never had such visibility to magi before. I can read it…

  Whose power is this?

  Sefene’s?

  My own?

  Foren stands atop his iced tower, scanning his enemies, freezing the air in small pockets in timed strikes. He separates a Freedom’s Ire rider from his dragon—entombing him and letting him fall to his death.

  To my shock, the house lords are at odds. Baenar of Valor defends the sanctum alongside Mistress Asentres of Rhylock. But they’re at odds with Karloth’s alt-magic. Of course… the house of balance would see reason. But what I didn’t expect is the house of punishment standing by his side. Lordess Rayne in all her majesty holds a clash against Baenar’s scythe.

  “Gods, the cold.” Jurso shivers.

  “Don’t be such a wuss,” Layla snaps.

  “The boy is right,” Boeru growls. “Suffering these temperatures will give our freed enemies brave openings. Good thing this isn’t my first time against a high mage. Shield your eyes, now!” He blows a puff of smolder wide over the group.

  I don’t even blink, knowing his power is my power. The fire coats me like a campfire, thawing Head Magus’ foul magic.

  Something happens as the flame coats me, however. My heartbeat… the rhythm just changed.

  “Haledyn,” Sefene’s voice touches my ears. “You are playing against ranks you cannot fathom. You must strike quickly and be gone, or risk death.”

  “I’ve died before, Sefene. At least this time it’ll be fighting for something. I’ll show my brother we have a choice.”

  “At the expense of your friends.” Sefene side-eyes me.

  “Don’t listen to the softie.” Lay bangs her shield atop her. “Guide and guard, Hale. I’m proud to die at your side.”

  Adrenaline flows through me. My dragons are connected through one mind—mine. Boeru’s intuition is like I’ve lived a thousand battles. Still, I intend to warn, not command. That’s not all. Magi of every origin flies around me. High and dark.

  To my horror, Foren turns his angry glare my way. “Traitor!”

  He spins his ice orb, extending his tower platform to a balcony of sculpted archers. Their joints crack like broken icicles as they set their bows. He commands his own army like Broggen holds an entire arsenal. Hidden powers of old mythos come roaring out.

  With no warning, archers loose their arrows into the sky, forcing me to warn all the dragons to descend out of harm’s way. Sefene and Dove glide far to make a wider target, while Boe fearlessly dives forward at my command.

  “Fire!” I shout, and with his head cocked back, Boe exhales an immense amount of flame drawing from my soul, bringing back the sting of Arkitus. I don’t care. The arrows melt, the balcony of archers crack and rewinds into Foren’s sphere, and next comes his attempt to freeze us.

  Ptch!

  The air solidifies around us, but with a clench of my fist, dark flame erupts to counteract it.

  “Mph!” I hold my chest, suffering another claw around my heart—something I haven’t suffered since the sub-tier.

  Dovesier flies overhead, where Jurso heroically hangs onto the side of the saddle, looking down on me.

  “I feel your pain, Hale. I’ve got you!” He straightens his arm to send an ethereal wave of golden bliss.

  It misses, hitting Boeru’s wing.

  I forget how to breathe. The pain is blinding… making my vision hazy.

  It’s too much. Sefene was right—

  “Hrah!” Jurso whips another wave, brightening his mouth and eyes like a lantern as he conjures the bliss and hurls it forward—this time hitting his mark and replenishing my strength.

  I’m up. My mindset changes in a flash, morphing all the panic into determination.

  Lightning swirls above me.

  I can break rank. I can disable the Head Magus.

  Raising my hand, the power of an unending storm is at my fingertips. Commanding Dove and Boe to glide left in unison, we dodge Foren’s next icy grip. The air pulses—shattering ice spikes into a massive explosion at our sides. I hold my gauntlet over my face to shield from the shards.

  “Incoming, Hale. Right side. Elden arena!” Layla’s voice swirls through me.

  One look down shows a nasty conjuring that can only be Gen’s. A black, trembling ballista struggles to maintain form. His brutes operate the weaponry, adjusting its trajectory and rotating it with great magical force.

  “The hell is that?” Misty gapes.

  “Lor’fyre,” Renesta says. “I knew something was up with that item. A won dagger that he’s never drawn. Of course it’d be hiding a war machine.”

  “Oh, hell no,” Rogo barks. “Permission to smash?”

  “Granted,” I say.

  Krcht. Poomf!

  A spear of warring dark blurs forward so fast I have to break tether with Dovesier. The lightning sparks fade as we break formation.

  Woosh!

  The spear misses and soars high into the sky.

  “That was close.” Jurso looks over Dovesier’s wing to make sure I wasn’t hit.

  “Can’t tell if he’s mad about losing Call to Arms, or the prick just loves Miria so much,” Lay scowls.

  “He’s reloading!” Jurs announces.

  “I’m on it!” Rogo roars as he and Ren hold tightly onto Kelfore’s handles and lean into a powerful flip—the dragon’s tail morphing into a blocked hammer of stone that crashes down on the conjuring. Brutes leap out of the way as stone and magic fog the air.

  “Good move,” I commend, refocusing on rounding the Head Magus.

  I understand why he was appointed the position now. His attention is everywhere, like a conductor, plucking and destroying riders he invited to sit beside him. A wyvern tangles in his icy embrace, gasping and writhing as it crashes right into the Elden construction.

  “Back into position, Dove,” I command, lifting my clawed hand once more.

  Boe pulls up abruptly, causing Dove to glide out of the way at the last second.

  “Mage fire!” Boe growls.

  It’s true… a barrage of long-tailed fireballs swirl in our direction like twin suns. I feel the dragons’ rotations in my mind, unsure of who ordered the command.

  Woosh!

  Sefene dives toward the flames—where Lay struggles to her feet atop her despite the immense winds. She holds a magical rein with one hand and her shield with the other.

  “No!” I call. “We don’t know the mage rank!”

  Lay stands tall anyway as the fire spheres burn brighter, twirling into one. She closes her eyes and swings her shield in a powerful overhead rotation like she’s swinging a whip, and thrusts it downward just as the flame engulfs them both.

  My throat runs dry.

  The flames fan, and Layla is left standing, unscathed.

  No… not unscathed…

  She falls limp and slides off of Sefene.

  “Lay!”

  Her body spins flaccidly in the air, her shield tumbling out of her grasp.

  “I’ve got her.” Renesta commandeers Kelfore to lift over her location, using his massive shadow to curl a sack into existence that grabs her midair.

  She struggles to hold her, shouting for Rogo to take the reins and pull to the side. Once they soar close enough to land, she releases the sack to let Layla roll harmlessly over the ground.

  I learn to breathe again when I see she’s alive, then refocus my attention forward—to the elites all focusing their attention on Casterban.

  “This is your chance,” Boeru growls, beating his wing harder.

  He’s right. Dovesier’s lightning is exploding through his body… ripe for the taking.

  I raise my clawed hand one more time, rounding Foren with Dove directly above me. I syphon his lightning like I’m draining juice from a fruit. It falls into me, darkening the sky.

  “That’s right, Head Magus. You’re not the only one who wields the elements.” Warring dark mixes hard with the voltage pulsing through my body.

  I think of the chaos of Izfael’s chambers… the raw power.

  I have to use it again to help.

  Krcht!

  Lightning swirls out of my fist. A horizontal helix of jagged electricity strikes Foren’s sculpture, jarring him out of his spell. I grit my teeth, sending more power. The next barrage forks out of control, hitting random spots in Foren’s vicinity.

  My chest aches from the drawn energy—Arkitus creeping up my neck again.

  “Almost,” I strain, pulling for another bolt. “Arh.” I hold my chest as the power fades. “Boe, I thought you harbored my Arkitus for me?”

  “I do, mortal. This seems to be another strain,” Boe huffs, rolling hard out of Head Magus’ orbit. “You wade into unchartered territory by housing a roost of dragons.”

  Burns… it burns so gods-damn bad.

  “You bring the enemy to our doorstep,” Efias roars at his brother, striking at the air—his sword slashes, transcending space to cut open his brother while his spirit orbs rush to block. “Lacor swims through our tiers. You are a Miria descendent. How dare you!”

  Casterban doubles over in the air as one of the slices crosses his gut. “Lacor is not one entity, Efias. You are blind if you can reduce a people to a single point of hatred.” He coughs blood.

  “We cannot lose him,” Renesta pleads. “I have to do something.”

  “It’s spreading fast, Boe. The attack feels twice what it used to.” I shut my eyes as the wind slaps my face. The next shift in velocity turns my stomach.

  Efias soars past, looking for an opening as he rounds his brother. “Traitor!” He slashes again.

  “I’m going in,” Renesta declares.

  “Don’t!” I call, pulling all of Jurso’s bliss, inhaling a healthy breath long enough for the dark to pulse around me once more. I claw from all parts of my psyche, taking the elemental icy gales from Risorgus, Boeru’s fire… I shove it all into my chained dagger and whip it in a rotation.

  “Get to Efias, Boe. Quick!”

  Boe beats his wing to change course. “His power is immense. He’s trapped his dragon with dark alt-magic. If we get too close—”

  “Just do it. We only need to distract.”

  Efias’ attention is solely on his brother as he rounds him on his powerful dragon. As I sail past other fighting elites, hanging onto Boe’s saddle handles with every ounce of my strength. I feel every shift now—that feverish feeling I thought I’d shed forever.

  I ignore it. There’s no choice.

  Warring fire burns from Boeru’s chest that I syphon into my own, whipping it into my dagger. I press one foot on the saddle, trying to find balance enough to stand. Swinging the chain at this velocity is impossible. I have to time it.

  “On my mark, Boe. You stop.”

  I hold the dagger hilt as my father’s giant dragon comes closer into view.

  Renesta and Rogo are evading elites to get closer to Casterban. What the hell is she thinking?

  “Now!” I yell to Boe, suffering the abruptness of halted acceleration. Then, when I steady, hurl the dagger into my father’s dragon.

  Clink!

  It lodges between the scales, giving me the split second I need to ignite Boe’s flames throughout its belly.

  A deafening roar causes my father to falter on his saddle.

  “Foolish boy!” He turns and swipes his sword my way.

  My eyes widen.

  He’ll kill me once his alt-magic manifests. His aim is deadly accur—

  Cling!

  A silhouette blurs past me as the purple slice is somehow deflected. My father roars and swipes again.

  Cling!

  The silhouette stops in front of me—where two sets of claws jab outward to thwart the magical strike.

  “Kane?”

  He turns on me, one human eye boring into my soul. “I see you, Hale.” The old voice from the sub-tier—the one who protected me since I was a child—it activates every fiber of my body and all the dragon power I’ve been hoarding.

  And when Kane leaps away to another of my dragons, I roar with everything I’ve got, igniting Boeru’s fire out from my free hand. Then I yell louder—shifting symbiotic to antagonistic—taking Dovesier’s essence as my own and sending concentrated strikes right back up at the man trying to kill me.

  Krtch!

  A bolt sizzles and disappears in a flash, leaving a burnt patch on Efias’ armor that jerks him out of place and shoves his dragon to teeter like a giant boat.

  Kane leaps from Dovesier, to Boeru, to Efias’ dragon and claws through its neck.

  “Yes!” I exhale, gripping Boe’s saddle with my numb hands.

  “You dare defy me, Kane?” Efias sheathes his sword and holds out his clawed hand, sending a purple grip around Kane’s throat, allowing Head Magus to pierce his ghoulish frame with an ice spear.

  “No!” I scream.

  “Run, Hale.” Kane’s strained voice rips through me like a knife.

  A fleet of wyverns rush past us like a flock of oversized birds. Cadets—the same riders who used to fly over Elshard.

  I want to try to save my brother, but a blinding fissure opens in the sky, followed by a feathery wing flying past us. The battle is too chaotic.

  “Don’t worry, Hale, I got him!” Misty wades through the wyverns, using her wind magic to help push her dragon’s wings.

  Fsst!

  A spear pierces right through Misty, relieving her of her saddle and separating dragon spirit and rider.

  Time stills. My heart stalls.

  We’re linked through our marks, and I feel her blinding pain like it’s my own.

  “Jurso, save her!” I plead, pulling bliss from Sefene far below me, and more lightning from Dove. I hurl everything I have, everything to break free from the storm so I can dive for Misty… until I pass out.

  I wake again to what must be a moment later, falling in the sky, being whisked by another torn wing—Scorius.

  “You’ve done well, Dragonborn. Now let our actions echo throughout the tiers.” He shoves me through the fissure, and I experience nothing but darkness.