The wind screamed as they flew.
Elyra gripped the saddle horn of her dragon with aching fingers, the burned leather biting into her palms. Below, the blackened stretch of the Firebone Mountains split open like a wound, trails of molten stone pulsing through the valleys like veins of a dying god. Smoke surged upward in thick waves, choking the air and blotting out the sun. Only the unnatural red glow of the volcanic chasms lit their path now—an apocalyptic twilight that made day feel like dusk.
Behind her, Kael rode a smaller wyvern—his body hunched low, his eyes narrowed into slits as he scanned the air above and below them. The wyvern had been borrowed from the Sanctuary's stables, a wild-tempered beast barely bonded to its rider. But Kael controlled it like he controlled everything else—with cold, ruthless command.
Vespera flew behind them on her own mount, silent as death, her hair streaming like a banner in the wind. She didn't speak. She hadn't since they left the Sanctuary. Her silence stretched out like a storm cloud—thick, tense, and ominous.
And somewhere ahead… were the riders.
The rogue dragon riders had regrouped. Three had become six. Six had become twelve. They soared in formation now—arcs of black shadow against the haze, like a murder of crows circling the battlefield. The sky was no longer theirs.
Elyra's dragon let out a pained snarl, its wounds barely stabilized. The Sanctuary's magic had soothed the flesh but hadn't restored its full strength. The beast flew unevenly, wings shuddering with every beat. Elyra could feel its exhaustion in her bones, the psychic tether between them dragging her down like an anchor.
Kael called out through the wind: "We need cover!"
"There is no cover!" Elyra shouted back. "Not in this sky!"
Then the first arrow came.
It hissed through the smoke, trailing silver fire—an alchemical shot designed to pierce even draconic hide. Elyra twisted in the saddle and just barely managed to jerk her dragon's shoulder to the side. The arrow missed, but a second embedded itself in her mount's rear flank. The dragon roared in fury and pain, tail lashing wildly.
"They're corralling us!" Kael shouted. "Forcing us toward the eastern ridge. That's where they want us."
"Then we fly west," Vespera said, her voice the first sound from her in hours. It cut like ice.
"They'll follow."
"Good. Let them."
Vespera pulled up sharply, wheeling her mount into a climbing spiral that streaked above the ash line. Arrows followed, but none found her. She moved like a ghost through the smoke.
Kael matched her trajectory, diving toward Elyra. "We split," he said, his voice tight with urgency. "We draw them out. They can't chase us all. You—head toward the Sundered Peaks. We'll regroup at the Bloodroot Hollow."
Elyra hesitated.
"We don't have time to argue," Kael growled. "Go!"
With a final glance at him—at the cold fire in his eyes, at the certainty of his grim plan—she tugged her reins and veered off.
Her dragon shrieked, the sound echoing like a war horn. Flames poured from its mouth, a warning to any who dared follow. Behind her, the sky fractured with movement. At least four riders broke formation, chasing her through the columns of smoke.
She ducked lower, weaving through ravines, plunging into smoke-thick canyons where molten rock sizzled beneath her. The heat stung her skin. Sweat streamed down her back. Her thoughts raced with panic—but beneath the fear, something else bloomed. A hunger. A spark.
She wasn't just flying for her life. She was luring them. Just like Kael wanted.
The first rider came close—too close. His dragon's snout gnashed, inches from Elyra's tail. But she pulled up at the last second, spinning into a tight barrel roll that flipped her into a vertical climb. Her dragon shrieked with pain from the maneuver, but obeyed.
The rogue rider wasn't fast enough. He clipped a jagged rock ledge, and his mount screamed as it went down, spiraling into fire and ruin.
Three left.
Another rider tried to circle her, attempting to cut off her climb. Elyra reached deep into her link with her dragon, deeper than she ever had. Words weren't needed. She became part of the beast.
They dove.
The second rider wasn't ready. Elyra's dragon crashed shoulder-first into him, sending both mounts spinning. Her blade flashed from her hip, slicing across the enemy's shoulder as they collided. Blood sprayed into the wind. The rider fell.
Two left.
They weren't rookies. They flew with eerie precision, trying to box her in. Elyra hissed through clenched teeth. The wind howled around her, but her mind was sharp now—razor-edged with adrenaline and something else: clarity.
She climbed again, luring the final two into a funnel of stone spires that jutted from the earth like broken spears. Timing was everything.
One rider hesitated.
That was all she needed.
She banked hard, scraping stone as she twisted between spires, ducked under an arch of volcanic glass—and then spun, doubled back, caught them off guard.
Her dragon unleashed its fire—not the full breath, but a searing tongue of flame that caught one rider square in the chest. Armor melted. Screams echoed. He fell.
The last rider fled.
Elyra hovered, panting, her dragon's breath labored beneath her. The sky behind was still thick with danger. Her heart was wild, but her mind was steady.
She had survived.
But survival wasn't the same as winning. And the fight had only just begun.
A low rumble vibrated through the sky.
It wasn't thunder.
It was the awakening Kael had spoken of—the god beneath the Ashen Vale. The air trembled as if the world itself drew breath.
Elyra turned her dragon west.
Toward Bloodroot Hollow.
Toward Kael.
Toward a destiny none of them were prepared for.
But as she flew, the sky behind her cracked—not with lightning, but with flame. She turned her head just in time to see one of the volcanic peaks split open, spewing molten fire into the air. From within that fiery wound rose something massive.
Not a dragon.
A construct.
It had wings, yes—but they were made of iron and obsidian, held together by cables of ancient spell-forged sinew. Its body pulsed with red light, and its eyes burned like twin furnaces. The rogue riders had not been acting alone.
They had awakened something.
Something old.
Elyra's dragon shrieked, panicked by the sheer weight of power emanating from the creature. She clung to the saddle, whispering calming thoughts through their link, but the fear was her own too. This was no ordinary weapon. This was a god-forged sentinel, left buried after the War of Fire, forgotten by time.
And now it flew.
Not after her.
After Kael.
Elyra's mind snapped into focus. She turned her mount, banking hard toward Bloodroot Hollow, every muscle screaming. She didn't know if Kael knew what was coming.
But she would not let him face it alone.