Dragon's Chosen Mate

by Riley Storm

  The witches were ready, and against their shield, burst into light, colored by their individual magic, strengthened by their unity.

  “Mess with the Witches of Winterspell, will you?” she spat. “Not on my watch.”

  Berith laughed. “Oh, you mortals are so cute. Now, witness my true power!”

  She waited, the wall cackling with energy as the demon lord walked right up to it. He wasn’t getting through.

  But he didn’t try to push the wall this time. Her eyes went wide as he pulled back a fist and punched it. Hard.

  The witches slid backward several feet, a few of them tripping on the uneven ground and falling.

  Spikes of black metal sprouted from Berith’s fist, and he stepped forward, and punched again.

  The wall shattered under the impact, his demonic strength simply overpowering the mortal witches.

  “Mine!” he howled and leapt at the portal.

  A blur of sapphire blue shot in from the side, intercepting the demon just short of his object. Berith howled with fury as Altair knocked him aside. The dragon sank its claws in deep, puncturing the demon’s armor as the mighty wings flapped and hauled the creature up into the air.

  Then the storm dragon released its grip, before the demon could recover.

  The creature plunged fifty feet or more to the ground, hitting with an impact that tossed Christine and the witches to the ground.

  Lightning slashed down from the sky, searing its way across Berith. Black armor cracked and fell away even as the demon lord got to his feet.

  Christine watched her man attack, snarling with anger. They needed to hit Berith, and hard. Together.

  Raising her staff, she unleashed her power. All of her power, in a wave of pure magic.

  It struck Lord Berith, making the demon flinch. He raised one hand to ward off the attack, while the other sent fireballs into the sky, driving Altair back. The dragon retreated, landing near Christine, where he once again resumed his human form.

  She ignored him, pouring everything she had into her attack.

  Altair came up to her to stand at her side. She smiled at him out of the corner of her mouth.

  “I love you,” he said.

  Berith came on, one step at a time.

  “I love you too,” she repeated, putting feeling into every word. Because she did. She loved him, no matter what anyone else might say or care!

  Again, the power in her hummed and the attack on Berith grew stronger. Altair raised one hand and energy began to pool in his palm. He reached out with the other to take her free hand.

  The instant they touched, Christine screamed.

  Energy surged through her, stretching her skin, filling her to near bursting. She couldn’t contain it. Couldn’t hold it in.

  You must let it out.

  Opening herself up, she poured the newfound energy into her staff, and through it to impact upon the demon. Berith’s progress toward her slowed.

  Beside her, Altair was just staring at her in shock. He hadn’t launched an attack of his own.

  “How?” he gasped. “How is this possible? You…you’re absorbing my power.”

  “I don’t know,” she howled as energy swirled around her, nearly deafening her as it shot across the battlefield. “But I am!”

  “Ready?” a new voice asked.

  It was a struggle, but she managed to turn her head to see Jessie come up beside her. Hand outstretched, ready to lay it on Christine’s, where she gripped her staff. Always Jessie, her best friend. Never one to hesitate, the other witch must have picked up on what was happening with her and Altair and was ready to see if it would work for her too.

  Could this really work?

  Bracing herself, she nodded. Jessie made contact.

  Christine shrieked in pain. Her body wasn’t meant to contain this much power. Nobody was. So she didn’t. She let it flow through her.

  The runes on her staff were glowing so brightly now it hurt her eyes, forcing her to screw them shut.

  Berith howled as he leaned forward into the onslaught.

  More magic entered her body unexpectedly, but Christine was no longer surprised. It entered and shot through her staff fluidly. It barely hurt at all.

  Or I simply can no longer feel pain…

  The rest of her team came forward, all of them connecting with her, lending her their power.

  A torrent of purple energy as wide across as she was tall poured from her staff.

  Lord Berith was stopped in his tracks.

  Christine’s eyes snapped open, pupils blazing with angry violet light.

  “You are not welcome here,” she said, her voice carrying easily through the torrent of power. She no longer had to shout.

  Berith shook his head. “What is this? This isn’t possible! You can’t defeat me.”

  “I’m not,” Christine said, looking left and right, long hair flying wildly in the ponytail behind her. “We are.”

  She thrust her staff forward, and the powerful light struck Lord Berith in the chest. The demon lord howled in pain as armor melted away and the magic penetrated his skin. Burning liquid magma poured forth, and the creature withered and died.

  Christine didn’t stop until the remains flashed and disappeared in a ball of smoke, Berith’s corporeal form destroyed, banishing him back to the Abyss.

  The flow of power dimmed and then shut off. The wild swirling of wind died down, leaving the witches to stand around, unsure of what had just happened, or how they had managed to do what they did.

  “Someone do me a favor?” Christine said as weariness overcame here. “Let Circe know that we’re good here?”

  Then she motioned for Altair, leaning heavily on him as he came near. “I need to sit down,” she told him as Madison took charge of the team for the moment.

  “You expended a lot of energy today,” Altair said quietly. “Are you okay?”

  “Just tired,” she said. “Circe gave me a potion before left. Helped me recover some of my energy, but I think I may have used it all up. Sleep and food sound wonderful right now.”

  Altair smiled, stroking her head. “You were magnificent out there. How did you do that?”

  She shook her head, reaching out, touching him. Feeling his skin. “I don’t know. I can…I can feel you, Altair. Not just like this,” she said, pressing her fingers against him. “But in this world, I can sense your presence when I couldn’t before. Like you exist within the magic of this world. Like you’re becoming a part of it.”

  “Or you’re becoming a part of me,” he said quietly. “A joining of two halves.”

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “Just like that. But if it’s all the same to you, can we wait a few days before fighting the next demon lord?”

  Altair chuckled softly, nodding his head. “Of course, my dear. Of course. Now rest. Until Circe and the Coven arrive, there isn’t much left for you to do. Everything is under control. I promise.”

  She nodded, and in an instant was asleep in his arms, feeling safer and more secure than she had in a great many years.

  Yet even as she slept, her mind dreamed of something else.

  Something she still had to do.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Altair

  He was still cradling Christine in his arms when Circe and the Coven appeared.

  His keen eyes picked them up in the sky well before the others, but it wasn’t long before everyone else saw them approaching. They swept in on the air steeds that the disciples of Winterspell seemed to favor, though there was a certain grace, elegance, and no doubt power to them that many of the others simply seemed to lack.

  Altair watched intently as they spread out, rendering aid where necessary, and protection anywhere else. All of them had wands and staffs out, ready to deal with anything that may be left.

  There was nothing. Between the dragons and Christine’s team, everything had been disposed of already. Gremlin corpses burned, and any remains of the demon lord incinerated until not even
ash remained, giving Lord Berith zero chance of resurrecting his physical form outside of the Abyss. They were thorough.

  “She is unharmed?” Circe asked, approaching.

  “Just tired,” he said. “She never really recovered from the first fight, and she used a lot of energy today.” He declined to inform the Circe of how. That would be up to Christine to decide whether or not to share information on what she’d done.

  Truthfully, Altair wasn’t really sure how she had done it anyway, so he wouldn’t be of much help. He’d never heard of a thing happening between his people, and she had seemed surprised at the fact as well, making it obvious that such energy-sharing wasn’t a common occurrence.

  It had worked, however, and for that he was grateful. Only a few minor bumps and bruises had been suffered this time around. The difference was…vast, between the first encounter with the demon lord, and this one.

  “Can you wake her?” Circe asked cautiously, and to his surprise, politely.

  She was giving him an opening to say no, to let her sleep. Altair was impressed that the woman, someone with so much authority and expectation of obedience, would allow such a thing. Still, there was never any hesitation in his mind. Regardless of how Circe felt, Christine would give him a piece of her mind if he didn’t wake her and let her know that the Coven had arrived.

  “Hey,” he said, stroking her face gently. “Sleepyhead. Big boss is here, wants to give you an award or something.”

  “Is it chicken?” Christine asked blearily. “Bacon cheeseburger?”

  Altair frowned. “I don’t think Circe usually rewards people with food. But perhaps this is a strange custom of yours I am not yet familiar with?” He shrugged.

  By this point, Christine was returning to wakefulness and his words penetrated her sleep-deprived brain. “Circe? Huh? Oh. Oh!”

  “Easy,” Circe said, lifting a hand as Christine struggled to get to her feet. “Rest. It’s okay. You’ve done a lot here today, Apprentice.”

  Christine sagged back into Altair’s arms, much to his relief. He knew she would have stood, but he suspected she was far lower on energy than anyone he knew.

  “You defeated Lord Berith,” Circe said, making the sentence a statement, not a question.

  “We got lucky,” Christine said. “He was strong. Very strong.”

  “Indeed. But he is also no longer here. Thanks to you, I take it.”

  Christine rolled her head to look up at him for a moment. Altair just smiled back. This was her decision.

  “It was a group effort,” she said quietly. “We did it as a team. Everyone helped. Including Madison.”

  Circe’s head tilted slightly to the side. “Is that so.”

  “Yes,” Christine said, her voice quiet, but forceful. “They were wonderful. Couldn’t ask for a better group.”

  “Very well then,” Circe said with a chuckle. “I suppose your team has shown its worth. We shall begin incorporating you into the official ranks of Winterspell’s resources. Good job, Apprentice Sinnclare. Good job indeed.”

  Circe turned to go, to leave the pair of them in peace.

  “Wait,” Christine said.

  Altair looked down, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t like that tone. It sounded like Christine wanted to do something.

  “Help me up,” she said quietly.

  He frowned, but her eyes found his, and they were uncompromising. Altair sighed internally, but there were battles that were worth fighting, and some that were not. This was one of them.

  Easily lifting Christine to her feet, he held her steady while she regained her balance, leaning heavily on her staff.

  “You don’t need to do anything more here, Christine,” Circe said, the head of Winterspell casting a hooded look his way that seemed to ask what she was doing.

  “Don’t look at me,” Altair replied as Christine eased her way out of his arms. “I don’t know.”

  “There’s something else I need to do,” Christine said quietly. She turned to meet his eyes. “Something that must be done. That only I can do now.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, getting worried.

  Christine reached out and touched his shoulder, exerting gentle pressure to move him aside.

  He stepped out of her way, turning as he went. His eyes landed on the target, on what it was she must be after.

  “What are you intending to do?” he asked as she walked forward, him on one side, Circe on the other.

  “End it,” Christine said in a distracted whisper. “It must be this way.”

  “But how?” Circe asked. “Nobody has been able to do anything to it. Even I can only see it. I cannot feel it.”

  “I can,” Christine said, continuing forward, leaving the pair of them behind. “I can feel it now.”

  He shook his head. “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “During the battle, when we…when it happened. I must have somehow transferred something. We are joined, the two of us, Altair. Can you not feel it?”

  “I can,” he said, acknowledging the connection he felt to her. “I’d denied it for some time now, but it’s there. Stronger now, than ever before.”

  “Yes. You are part of my world now,” she said quietly, standing in front of the portal. “But by the same path, I am part of yours.”

  Her staff came up, the tip brightening with silver light.

  “I can feel it now. I see the threads of its existence. I understand it,” she said, looking ahead, even as she talked to the two of them.

  Altair exchanged a helpless shrug with Circe.

  “All I have to do, is cast this spell, and I can close it, Altair. I can close it right now.”

  He opened his mouth to say do it, wondering why she hadn’t already.

  But then it hit him. Once it closed, once she cast her spell, it was closed. There was no way back to Dracia. No way to reclaim his home planet.

  He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly.

  “Do it,” he said quietly.

  Dracia was gone. The people on it were gone. If closing it would starve the creatures that had Infected his people and kill them off, preventing them from doing what they did to any other worlds, then he would do that.

  Nobody else deserved to suffer the way his people had.

  “You’re positive?” Circe asked.

  “Yes. Our home is here now. On Earth. At Winterspell.”

  Silver light bathed the area in its glow.

  When it faded, the portal was gone.

  Altair staggered slightly, but he recovered, standing tall.

  Goodbye.

  “Come,” Circe said after giving him time to process what had just happened. “Let us get the two of you back to Winterspell. You need to rest and recover. Perhaps even with a bacon cheeseburger or two.”

  If Altair could see the woman’s eyes, he knew they would be glittering with laughter just then.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Christine

  Three days passed at Winterspell before she was summoned to Circe’s office again.

  Unsure of the reasoning behind it, Christine took the long route through the hallways, trying to puzzle out what it was she had done.

  In the time since her team had returned, life at the magic academy had mostly returned to normal. Classes resumed, tensions wound down, and the magic world relaxed. A crisis had been averted, and nothing new loomed on the horizon.

  Christine had spent that time with Altair, exploring their connection, and really getting to know one another. It had been a wonderful, eye-opening seventy-two hours that had left her bubbling with excitement for what the future between them would hold.

  Now that they were no longer holding back with one another, they had been making great strides in strengthening their bond, chatting excitedly about everything from their favorite foods, to their dreams for the future, and with each other. Then there were the nights. Those were fun too, but in a very different manner.

  D
espite her attempts to delay the inevitable, eventually she arrived outside the door to Circe’s office. She had to face the music eventually after all.

  Stop acting so dramatic. You haven’t done anything wrong. You have no idea why she summoned you.

  There was only one way to find out, and despite her nervousness at being summoned before an authority figure unexpectedly, there was also a good bit of curiosity, and that eventually won out.

  The door swung open under her fist.

  “Come in,” Circe said, her voice echoing through the spacious office.

  Not detecting any sounds of anger, irritation or anything else that might indicate she was about to get in trouble, Christine entered the office, curious about what was going on.

  “Does that ever get old?” she asked as she approached the desk, gesturing at the oceanic backdrop.

  “No,” Circe said quietly. “Thankfully, it does not. Sometimes when I need to reflect, I’ll stand there for hours watching the water go, simply thinking about everything. It provides incredible clarity to your mind. Removes all distractions.”

  “I can imagine,” Christine said quietly.

  “Well, one day, I fully expect you to be in a position to take advantage of it as well.”

  Christine bowed her head, flushing at the compliment. She still wasn’t sure that the position of Circe was something she was capable of, but when the current holder of the title said she saw it, well, it added a certain credibility to the dream.

  A dream she’d discussed with Altair. He had said he would support her fully if she chose to strive for it, under the sole condition that she not be allowed to wear a hood. Christine smiled now as she watched the mysterious head of Winterspell.

  “I suspect your curiosity is getting the better of you by this point,” Circe said with a lightness to her voice. “You want to know why I called you here.”

  “I’m not going to pretend otherwise,” Christine said bluntly. “Yes, I am dying to find out. Thank you for not taking forever to get to the point.”

  Circe laughed, leaning back in her chair. “We witches aren’t always mysterious and vague, you know. Sometimes, we can get shit done.”

  Christine covered her surprise at hearing the other woman curse.