by Coco Ma
“Maybe.” Rose slid her bow onto her back, the weapon’s sleek limbs clinging to the rippling layers of scales on her suit. “We have to be ready for anything.” She slipped a hand into her pocket and pulled out her sapphire tristone, the sigils of water, earth, and wind carved into its deep-blue surface. “You should try out the omnistone, Asterin.”
The omnistone felt almost too warm between her clasped palms. When she inhaled, it grew heavier, as if drawing in her magic the same way some people used meditation to focus their powers. Expelling her breath, Asterin summoned a dagger of ice from one closed fist—or attempted to. Instead, a great blast of wind knocked Luna off her feet. Asterin gasped out an apology, stunned at the sensation—not only did the stone feel heavier, but her magic did too, somehow. She could feel the power of all the elements. Even when she summoned just one, the lines distinguishing them blurred together.
“Envision your intentions more clearly in your mind,” Rose instructed.
Asterin closed her eyes and summoned her ice a second time, but the blade she conjured was made of water. Gritting her teeth, she focused on the image of the affinity triangle, zeroing in on the blurring elements and dragging them apart. Ice rose from water, but everything from its state to its utility was strikingly different, and using the omnistone forced her to recognize those differences. This time, when she exhaled and thrust her hand downward, the blade shattered into a thousand crystalline fragments against the floor.
Rose shook her head. “Not good enough, Princess. You can’t close your eyes in battle.”
So again Asterin summoned a dagger, and then another, and then another, growing more accustomed to that new, unfamiliar weight. Soon, she began combining her powers, until all the elements swirled around her in a storm, wind whipping at her cloak, air blossoming into tongues of flame, sparks of electricity arcing along the spines of hoarfrost skimming the ceiling.
“Your energy isn’t limitless,” Rose warned. “The more magic you use, the faster you’ll burn out—especially when using the omnistone.”
Asterin nodded, letting her magic fade—only to have it flare violently at the earth-shattering roar that came from outside, so loud that it reverberated through her bones, its echoes rolling through the night.
The blood drained from Luna’s face. “What was that?”
Shouts rose from the lower floor as a crash shook the building, throwing them all sideways.
“That came from downstairs,” Asterin said, moving for the door. “We have to go and help them!”
Rose leapt toward her, barring her path. “We have to stay here.”
“Your cousin’s life could be in danger! How can you just stand here?”
“Quinlan likes flirting with death even more than he likes flirting with you,” Rose shot back. “He doesn’t need me to worry about him.”
There was another deafening crash, accompanied by an outraged holler.
Luna turned even paler. “That was Eadric.”
Rose’s gaze softened, but she stood her ground. “He’s the captain of the Elites. I’m sure he’s—”
Her words were cut off by a sudden pop in Asterin’s ears. The pressure in the room changed and she could taste the electricity in the air, crackling like embers on the brink of bursting into flame. Eadric, she thought just as a blinding fork of lightning hurtled down from the sky outside. The blast of thunder that followed rattled the window.
And then … silence. An unnatural silence, so heavy and dense that it seemed to envelop the entire room like pillowed fog. Asterin’s ears had yet to unpop when the second explosion of lightning illuminated the night, but nothing followed.
“What happened?” Asterin whispered.
Rose swallowed. “I … don’t know.”
Asterin waited, counting her heartbeats in her head. One, two …
She had reached twenty when the unbroken silence overwhelmed her. She cursed. “We have to help them.”
Rose shook her head. “Whatever is out there subdued Quinlan and the others in minutes. We don’t stand a chance. You don’t stand a chance.”
“Do you expect me to just stand here and wait for whatever that thing is to come and kill us?” Asterin demanded. “We’ll be trapped. I’m going.”
“And I’m coming,” Luna said, voice quavering. Asterin whipped around, halfway to the door. Luna straightened beneath her stare, fists clenched.
Rose stepped between them. “Neither of you are leaving. I’ll knock you out first.”
Asterin snarled. “I’d like to see you try.”
“You asked for it.” Rose flung out her arms. A current of wind swept Asterin right off her feet faster than she could comprehend and into the wall with a crash. She slid to the floor, groaning. While she struggled to stand up, Rose forced more wind upon her, shoving down every attempt.
“Rose!” Luna cried, gesturing frantically.
“I’m busy!”
“The window!”
They looked up just in time to see a churning mass of darkness swoop high into the moonless sky, blocking out the stars. It dove from above, a hawk with its prey locked in sight, smashing into the window headfirst. Quinlan’s invisible shield launched it backward with a throb of light, the glass rattling. The dark mass shrieked and plummeted out of sight.
Without a word, Rose grappled for Asterin’s arm and pulled her to her feet. They both hurried to the window, craning their necks to capture a glimpse of the courtyard below.
The mass looked like nothing more than a lump of blackness, jumbled on the pavement. And then it began to spasm. They watched as it took shape, lengthening into the muscular body of a predator, two wide ears popping out of its skull. It had two hind legs, but its forelimbs had been replaced with a pair of thorny, gnarled wings. A tail of barbs swept across the ground as it turned its head up and fixed its beady yellow eyes on Asterin.
She shuddered. “What in the name of the Immortals is that?”
“It’s not the demon, is it?” asked Luna.
“No, it’s a wyvern,” Rose said. “They haven’t been sighted in the Mortal Realm for centuries.” Luna raised her airstone, only for Rose to smack it away. “You can’t cast anything through Quinlan’s shield. It’ll backfire.”
“It’s preparing to attack again!” Asterin shouted. No sooner had the words come out of her mouth than the wyvern thrashed its wings, colliding into the window with enough force that they all leapt back. The creature shrilled in pain as patches of its leathery skin ignited in indigo flame and flaked away. It flailed midair for a moment before hurtling at them yet again. Asterin’s heart seized as a single, hairline fracture raced down the glass with an ominous crack.
Rose pocketed her tristone and slid her bow off her back. “Shit.”
“We have to get out of here,” gasped Luna.
Asterin didn’t dare take her eyes off the wyvern at the window as it hoisted itself higher in the air, wings pumping, preparing for another—and perhaps, final—assault.
“I’ll hold it off,” Rose said. “Luna, protect Asterin at all costs. When it breaks past the shield, you are both going to jump out the window. It’s only two stories.”
“Are you crazy?” Luna yelled. “Why can’t we just use the door?”
“Touch it and you’ll melt the skin right off your bones,” Rose replied, reaching for an arrow. “Asterin, you cannot die here. You have no idea how much is at stake.”
Asterin flexed her wrists. “If any of us are going to fight, we’re going to fight together. None of us are going to jump out any windows, and none of us are going to die—”
She cut off as the wyvern barreled forward with a triumphant screech even while black sludge oozed from its blistering skin, as if it knew it had already won. The blow spread the single crack into a web.
All it would take was one more strike.
Asteri
n gripped the omnistone. “What do I do with this?”
Rose cursed again and nocked an arrow. “Shield. Make a shield. Keep it up until I say so.”
Just as the wyvern poised itself to charge, Asterin thrust her arms out. “Skjyolde!” Magic erupted from her fingertips, weaving into a dome of translucent energy over their heads.
The wyvern lunged once more, and the window shattered, peppering the shield with glass. Even though Asterin braced herself, a groan still tore from her throat as the wyvern rammed into her shield, claws scraping mere inches from her face. She stared into its horrible yellow eyes through what now seemed like a too-thin barrier, her arms trembling the longer she resisted. “Rose,” she gasped.
“Wait for it,” Rose hissed from beside her, bow drawn.
Asterin snarled as the wyvern forced her back another foot, toward the scorching heat of the door. “Wait for what?”
“Now!”
Asterin relinquished her hold on the shield, the dome dissolving into nothing. Rose let her arrow fly, dead-on for the wyvern’s heart.
The arrow found home, burying deep into its chest, but somehow, the wyvern did not fall.
Instead, it charged at Luna.
Time seemed to slow as Asterin watched it leap five feet into the air, razor-sharp talons extended. Her magic acted of its own accord, blasting straight from her core. Spears of ice shot from the floor and sent the wyvern tumbling sideways. Its talons punched into the floor, trapping it for a few precious seconds.
“Get behind me!” Asterin yelled, pelting more ice at it. But to her dismay, each blast was smaller, weaker. She yanked at the strings of her power. More, more, why isn’t there more? she thought desperately.
The wyvern prowled closer, as if savoring every step. Its tail lashed out at her hand, but the pain was overshadowed by sheer horror when it knocked the omnistone right out of her grip. The stone sailed into the air and skittered behind the wyvern.
“Almighty Immortals,” Asterin said. The three of them started backing away. “All right. While I distract it, you two get out of here.”
“No,” Rose said, eyes wide. “Asterin, listen. You don’t need the stone. Your magic is a part of you. Your powers lie within your blood, closer within reach than you think. Harness it.”
There was a thump at the door.
Asterin clenched her jaw and braced her palms outward, her heart pounding in her ears. The wyvern’s tail scraped against the floor with an ear-splitting screech as it advanced. Your magic is a part of you. She tried to imagine it, envisioning her powers coursing through her veins, surging from deep within, flowing out of her fingertips.
“Come on, Asterin,” Luna whispered. “You can do it.”
A blade of ice the length of her arm surged from her open palm, slicing through the air like one of Rose’s arrows. It pierced the wyvern’s left eye and plowed clean through the back of its skull. The wyvern howled, lurching sideways, its good eye—blazing with yellow rage—darting until it found her.
With the last of her dwindling strength, Asterin threw up a final shield as the wyvern barreled forward, giving her no time to think, to doubt. Pain raced through her body as it collided into her shield, forcing her onto her knees.
She couldn’t let go.
The corners of her shield crackled as the edges of her vision clouded black, blurring in and out of focus.
I can’t let go.
But she couldn’t hold on.
The pain became too much, her body driven far beyond its limits. She prepared to conjure a final blade of ice. When her shield dropped, she would go for the wyvern’s other eye. She stared into its foaming maw, at the dripping fangs—
The door behind them ignited in an explosion of scorching heat.
A growl ripped through the room as a figure engulfed in indigo fire lunged through the last wisps of Asterin’s shield just as it flickered out.
Quinlan leapt at the wyvern with an enraged snarl, knives flashing. The beast swerved in surprise as the Prince of Eradore leapt onto its back with acrobatic ease, dancing on his toes, maintaining his balance even as the wyvern bucked. Each strike, delivered with a calm, lethal grace, drew shrieks of pain from the wyvern, the iridescent blades Quinlan wielded somehow managing to slice clean through its hide. Black blood poured from its wounds and splattered onto the floor.
Asterin cried out as the wyvern whipped its tail in wild retaliation and sliced Quinlan across the forehead. Unfazed, he broke away, leaving the wyvern’s neck wide open for the fatal blow. Quinlan’s eyes met Asterin’s for but a single heartbeat, his pupils blown wide and ringed with the deepest shade of blue she’d ever seen.
Before either of them could act, a howl erupted like a battle cry at her back. Asterin turned to see Quinlan’s flames licking up the remains of the door. And poised beneath it … a magnificent silver wolf with luminous emerald eyes.
Asterin’s heart stopped as those eyes met her own. She knew this wolf.
“Lord Conrye,” she whispered, and she knew that she was right.
With a mighty pounce and a frigid blast of arctic air, the Protector of the North soared over their heads and sank his glistening fangs into the wyvern’s throat.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Orion had fallen asleep before he could even bother burrowing beneath the covers, still in his riding clothes. Eadric had dozed off in the corner of their room, head lolling against the back of an armchair. After such a long day of travel, Orion couldn’t help but nod off to the soft rumble of the captain’s snores.
And then Quinlan had kicked down their door with a bang.
Eadric sprang from his armchair like a frazzled cat. “What’s going on?”
When Orion stirred but refused to acknowledge Quinlan’s presence, the Eradorian grabbed a pillow off the bed and smacked him in the face with it. “Get up.”
Orion groaned and rolled onto his stomach. “Oi, out with you, you handsome bastard.”
An embarrassingly high-pitched yelp escaped Orion when some sort of invisible hook latched onto his navel and flipped him over.
He cracked open one eye to find Quinlan’s face looming a mere inch away.
“Unless you want to die,” the Eradorian said, “you are going to get the hell up.”
Orion scowled. “For Immortals’ sake—” Suddenly, he sailed off the bed, cartwheeling through the air. The invisible hook tossed him out the open door in a heap. Orion clambered onto his feet and shook his fist. “That’s it ! You listen here, you little—”
“Yeah, yeah. Just shut up, okay?” Quinlan peered out their window and into the night, grip tightening on the curtains. “Something’s coming. Something dangerous. And powerful.” He grabbed Orondite and thrust the blade at Orion. “The others are safe. For now. But we have to warn the staff and evacuate the residents.”
“Is it the demon?” Eadric asked in alarm.
“No idea. I just know that it’s coming. I’d say we have less than five minutes.”
The captain nodded grimly. “We’d better move, then.”
Orion sputtered, clutching Orondite to his chest. “Hold on a second—”
Eadric glared at him. “There are people in danger. Save your sass for later.”
They dashed for the second-floor landing and split up, running down the horseshoe-shaped hallway and banging on doors. Quinlan finished last, having just escorted the innkeeper and several other confused residents safely out of the building when the sound of beating wings approached.
“Downstairs!” Eadric exclaimed.
A roar boomed outside, shaking the steps as they descended and sending Orion tumbling ass over head to the main floor. Quinlan barely managed to shout a warning in time when the wall beside them exploded. They flew backward, crashing into the tables in the dining area behind them. Orion scrambled to his feet, coughing as chunks of brick and rubble rai
ned down from the gaping hole the explosion had left in the wall.
A shadow fell over the destruction.
The first thing that struck Orion about their attacker was its wings—in lieu of arms and almost too large for the brutish, wrinkled body. Its filmy skin stretched over a sunken snout and skull, and when a pair of beady yellow eyes homed in on Orion, he found himself paralyzed. Its barbed tail whipped into the air to obliterate him off the face of the earth, yet he could only stand there, frozen to the spot.
“Move, idiot!” Quinlan yelled, diving out of nowhere and hurling up a fiery shield just as the creature’s tail raked against it. The shield absorbed the impact with a blinding flare that burned tears into Orion’s eyes. Arms encircled his waist, and Quinlan wrenched him into the temporary safety of the taproom.
“Immortals,” Orion said as Quinlan deposited him against the back of a stool. “That’s a wyvern. I’ve only seen them in paintings.”
The wyvern screeched in the dining area, back arching. One flap of its wings demolished another section of wall, felling a chandelier. Oil spilled and flame raced along the carpets, but Quinlan extinguished it with a wave of his hand. The wyvern snorted, eyes narrowed to slits, and stampeded for them, tail swinging like an enormous bludgeon. Eadric shouted, and the three of them dove away just as it cleaved in half the stool Orion had been leaning against seconds ago. It smashed its tail through a row of glasses and a keg, showering beer foam onto their faces and accidentally trapping itself between a metal rail and the counter.
“Damn it, Orion! Where’s your affinity stone?” Quinlan yelled.
Orion blinked, his whole body numb, gaze cemented to the wyvern as it struggled to escape. “Pocket.”
Quinlan slapped him hard across the face. “Listen up, pretty boy,” he hissed. “Asterin’s life is on the line, and if you don’t focus, she is going to die. Are you really her Guardian?”
Orion shot up, heat rushing to his face. “Of course I am.”
“In that case, get your shit together.”
Eadric sent a bolt of electricity at the wyvern’s backside, affinity stone clutched in his fist. It shrieked, rearing in pain and subsequently wrenching its tail free. The captain charged at it with a fearless cry, sword swinging—but the metal simply bounced off, scarcely even chipping its hide. Undaunted, Eadric stomped a foot into the ground and held his affinity stone aloft. Orion’s ears popped, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The wyvern snarled, hesitating.