I was tired.
Not the kind of tired you feel after a long flight or a hard spar.
This lived deeper—lodged in my bones, wrapped around my ribs.
The kind of exhaustion that came from holding too much lightning for too long and knowing that if I let go, everyone behind me died.
The world had become a sea of dead.
Exhausted as I was, I had no choice but to shift.
But I had nothing left to give.
Not a spark. Not a breath.
Take…
Lyra's voice ghosted through my mind—soft, strained—and my blood went cold.
I knew that feeling.
The same flicker of her presence I'd felt the last time I'd pushed myself to burning out.
A spark ignited in my veins.
Small.
Weak.
But real.
My lightning snapped faintly across my skin.
I didn't know how she was doing it, but somehow—somehow—she was giving me power.
Not much, but enough.
Enough to let the dragon break free.
I shifted with a roar that tore from my lungs and shook the air.
Lightning spilled over my scales in ragged arcs, barely holding form.
Dead hands clawed for me instantly—at my throat, at my wings, at every inch of exposed scale.
Every time I shook them off or burned them to ash, more crawled over the bodies of the fallen to take their place.
The battlefield was chaos.
And I was drowning in it.
"RAIDEN, ABOVE!"
Muir's shout cracked through the storm.
I twisted instinctively, lightning crackling blue-white down my dragon spine.
A shadow-beast the size of a carriage—something that might once have been a horse or a wolf before Mortimer twisted it—dove for my throat, its double rows of jaws gaping wide.
I snapped up to meet it, teeth closing on its skull.
Rot. Ash. Bone.
I tore its head off and flung the body into the horde below, where it vanished beneath claw and rot. Lightning surged from my throat in a wave, vaporizing a dozen corpses in front of me.
Still they came.
They never stop.
The bond flared—bright, ragged, alive.
Lyra.
For a heartbeat, the endless tide of dead, the crackle of my own power tearing me apart, the screams of Skyguard and the roar of wind all went distant beside that single, blinding flare.
She was fighting. Angry. Afraid. Determined.
And then—sharp, like a blade driven into the bond—impact.
My chest locked.
"LYRA—!"
The shout ripped through both my throat and the link between us. I didn't see what hit me—something big, fast, stinking of old magic and older death. It slammed into my side, sending me crashing down onto the fractured terrace, the air punching out of my lungs in a rush.
Stone shattered beneath my weight.
Dead bodies scattered like kindling.
"Rai!"
Revik's voice—too close. Too loud. Too exposed.
I forced myself to shift, dragon peeling away in a blaze of light and crackling thunder. I hit one knee on scorched rock, chest heaving, lightning still crawling along my skin like it was reluctant to go.
The beast that had blindsided me circled back—wings a torn ruin, eyes burning that same corrupted red as my father's.
Muir stepped in front of me, ice already racing down his arms. "Stay down for once," he snarled. "For a prince, you have terrible self-preservation."
"Not really my style," I rasped, though my legs were shaking too hard to argue.
The undead wyvern dove.
Muir thrust both hands up.
A pillar of jagged ice shot from the terrace, spearing straight through the beast's chest mid-dive. It shrieked as the spike carried it upward, pinning it in the air before it burst apart in a spray of shadow and shattered bone.
More dead clawed at the base of the spike, trying to climb.
"Revik!" Muir barked. "Right flank!"
"I see it!"
Revik blurred past me, blade a silver arc that severed arms, necks—anything reaching too close. He moved like a man who'd decided there was no world past this battle and had made peace with it.
I hadn't.
Because somewhere ahead of us—through the crush of the dead, through the crackling air and the press of shadow—Lyra was fighting my father.
I pushed back to my feet.
My vision swam for a second, then steadied. Lightning licked up my arms, eager, greedy, ready to burn me hollow if that's what it took.
"Raiden." Revik's voice snapped at my side, sharp as his sword. "Breathe."
"Don't have time."
"Make time."
The bond slammed another pulse through my chest—Lyra's power flaring, that strange violet blaze twisting with fire and water. It clashed with something cold and rotten.
My father's magic.
A rumble shuddered through the mountain, followed by a column of violet-and-shadow light spearing into the sky at the far end of the battlefield.
Lyra. My father.
I lurched forward.
Muir grabbed my wrist, grip iron. "You don't get through that sea of dead alone," he said. "So we cut you a path."
"You can barely stand," I snapped.
"Neither can you," he shot back. "Yet here we are."
Above us, Tadewi screamed—dragon-voice tearing the clouds open as she dove. Wind exploded outward from her in lethal spirals. Skyguard rode the currents she made, dropping from ledges like arrows.
Didn't matter.
More came.
Mortimer's hunger had hands.
"Raiden." Revik met my eyes, decision already made. "Muir and I hold the line. You move."
"You'll die," I said flatly.
He shrugged. "Eventually. But not today."
Muir rolled his eyes. "You two can have your martyr argument later. Right now, we're notdying and you're going to Lyra. That's the plan."
The mountain shook again. Violet and shadow flared on the horizon, then disappeared in a spray of fractured light.
Panic carved down my spine.
"Fine," I said. "We cut through."
Lightning burst from my skin, forming a crackling spear around us—half-dome of raw storm snapping at anything near. Not as big as my earlier gate. Not as strong.
But enough.
"NOW!" I roared.
We charged.
The dead surged to meet us.
I thrust my hands out, lightning lancing forward in a wide fan. The front ranks convulsed and toppled, charred into black husks.
"LEFT!" Revik shouted.
He darted past me, sword plunging into a huge corpse-beast trying to flank us. It howled silently as he dragged the blade free and kicked it off the ledge.
Muir followed, hurling a wave of freezing mist that hardened midair into razor-edged shards, shredding an entire cluster of undead creeping along the underside of the bridge.
We moved like flame through dry grass—fast, destructive, desperate.
Every few steps, my lightning faltered.
Every time it did, a dead hand got close.
Revik's blade flashed.
Muir's ice lashed out.
We fought like there was no second attempt.
Because there wasn't.
A massive shadow-lion leapt for my throat, jaw distending too wide, fangs dripping black.
I barely got my arm up.
Its teeth closed around my bracer, pressure crushing bone. I snarled and let lightning erupt point-blank into its skull. It collapsed—but still clung to my arm.
"A little help—"
Steel sliced past my ear.
Revik's blade severed the lion's neck.
"Watch your blind side," he snapped. "I'm not growing you a new one."
"Get in line," Muir huffed. "His blind spots have a waiting list."
I almost smiled.
Almost.
The bond jolted again—Lyra's pain flickering through me like white fire.
She was pushing herself too hard.
I shoved more power into the storm around us, pouring my fear straight into the lightning. It grew hotter, brighter, snarling at the edges of my control.
The dead burned faster.
So did I.
We were close.
I could feel my father like a migraine at the back of my skull, power twisted into something wrong. Lyra's violet blaze flared and dimmed, flared and dimmed—each burst making my heart lurch.
"Almost there," I gritted out.
"Big problem," Muir said.
He slammed a hand to the ground.
Stone shuddered—cracks racing outward. Then the broken slabs shot upward into jagged pillars, shoving back the dead on either side, creating a narrow corridor.
Through that gap—
I saw them.
Lyra and my father.
Almost within reach—
A shriek tore from above.
I looked up—
Too slow.
Another hybrid beast—larger, faster—dropped from the sky like a thrown spear, talons aimed at my face.
I brought my arm up—sparks flaring—
I wasn't going to be fast enough—
And Muir moved.
He slammed into me from the side, shoving me clear.
The beast's claws hit him full in the chest.
There was a sound like tearing metal and breaking bone.
Muir's body lifted off his feet, carried back several strides, and slammed into the stone pillar he'd raised. Blood sprayed in a horrible arc.
"MUIR!" Revik's roar didn't sound human.
Time stuttered.
The wyvern pinned Muir to the pillar, claws buried deep. Its head reared back for the kill.
I didn't think.
Lightning vaulted me forward in a burst.
I hit the beast side-on, hands already alight.
Pure storm surged through me, blasting straight through its ribcage.
It shrieked as lightning ripped it apart. Bits of charred bone sprayed the terrace as it exploded.
My legs gave out.
I dropped beside Muir.
He was still pinned—ice keeping him upright more than his own muscles. Blood soaked his tunic from four deep gashes across his torso.
Too deep.
Too close.
"Hey," he rasped, lips twitching. "That was… unnecessarily dramatic."
"You idiot," I choked. "You absolute idiot."
I pressed my hands to the wounds. Lightning flickered beneath my palms, ready to cauterize.
"No," Muir hissed, grabbing my wrist. "If you fry me, I'll haunt you. Freeze."
He slapped his other hand over mine.
Frost flared, numbing my skin.
He pulled from the water veins in the stone, forming a thin sheet of ice over the wounds, slowing the bleeding.
"You shouldn't have done that," I said.
"What, save your stupid royal life?" He wheezed a laugh. "Someone has to keep the primal dragon from sobbing over a corpse."
"That's not—"
He pushed my hands away, wincing. When he opened his eyes, they were clearer.
"Look at me, Raiden."
I did.
"In another world," he said quietly, "without crowns and borders and dead gods… I think you and I would've driven each other insane. Properly. Together."
My throat tightened. "Muir—"
"Brothers, probably," he continued. "Annoying each other. Testing each other. Insulting each other's hair."
"Your hair is terrible," I muttered. "It looks like a wet squirrel."
"See?" he whispered, a faint grin ghosting his mouth. "Could've worked."
"Why?" I asked. "Why'd you take that hit?"
He snorted. "Because if the Fire King kills you, who do I argue strategy with? Revik?" He nodded toward the man already cutting down more dead. "He'd win."
I hated that answer.
And I was grateful.
"You're not dying here," I said.
"Damn right he's not," Revik snarled.
He slid beside us, sword still in hand, the other pressing over Muir's wound. His face was white with fury.
"Revik—" Muir began.
Revik smacked him lightly upside the head.
"Hey," Muir complained weakly. "Rude."
"You are the stupidest man I've ever met," Revik snapped.
"Again—rude."
"You throw yourself in front of a HALF-DEAD BEAST for him?" Revik gestured at me. "He can turn into a dragon."
"So can I," Muir whispered.
Revik made a strangled noise—
Then leaned in and kissed him.
Quick, messy, furious.
Muir froze—
Then melted into it.
Revik pulled back, eyes fierce. "You are not dying today," he said. "You hear me?"
"Hard to argue after that," Muir muttered. "If I try, you'll just do it again."
"Exactly."
A distant explosion rocked the mountain.
Violet light flared—Lyra's power, clashing with shadow.
She was still holding.
For now.
Revik looked at me. "Go."
"I can't just leave—"
"Yes, you can," he snapped. "Because if you don't, his sacrifice is pointless, Tadewi's winds are for nothing, and Lyra dies alone. That what you want, Rai?"
The question gutted me.
Muir caught my sleeve. "Go," he echoed. "We'll hold. I'll… sit down really aggressively. That counts as fighting, right?"
A short, broken laugh escaped me. "You're impossible."
"Yeah," he said. "That's why you like me."
Revik slid his arm around Muir's back. "I'll drag him off the battlefield if I have to," he said. "Now MOVE."
I closed my eyes briefly.
Lyra's presence pressed against mine—strained, burning, unwavering.
She needed me.
I opened my eyes.
"Don't die," I told them.
Revik snorted. "Same to you, brother."
Muir lifted two fingers in a weak salute. "Bring her back in one piece. The world'll need her."
I let the dragon rise.
Lightning flared around me, swallowing my human shape in blinding white. Wings unfurled with a crack that sent gusts spiraling over the terrace.
For a moment, I hovered over them—
Then turned toward the violet light battling shadow.
The dead surged to meet me.
I roared and stormed forward.
Every bolt of lightning I loosed was a promise:
I am coming.
Every corpse I burned away was a vow:
You will not face him alone.