Page 121 of Of Wind and Terror

I wiggle my finger beneath my band and begin to twist it back and forth.

And…

There!

Directly in the center of the band, bisecting the strange etching, is a crack.

A fucking crack!

My pulse spikes, and I can’t help but feel I’m being watched. I inconspicuously twist my head towards the door of my prison but don’t see anyone. No Sylvan with his face that looks eerily similar to mine—minus the scar—and no Mikage, Sylvan’s best friend and right-hand asshole.

I focus on the crack and begin to twist the cuff back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Every time I do that, the crack widens, until the two halves of the bracelet are only connected by a single metal thread.

Please, please work.

Gaia, I don’t ask for much, but if you ever gave a damn about me, you would?—

The cuff breaks in half and shatters to the ground.

All at once, my powers snap back into me with such a staggering intensity I can’t help but gasp.

“Draven?” Calan’s voice is rife with alarm.

I close my eyelids and see nothing but a night sky, riven with twinkling stars and a full moon.

Yes…

The moonlight wavers and withers like a mass of silver snakes. It lights up the barren wasteland I’ve found myself in.

Then a raw wave of power explodes outwards, tiny pieces of debris blotting out the stars, and I know it’s a physical representation of the wall prohibiting me from using my magic crashing down.

When I reopen my eyes, I know that the galaxies themselves are reflected in my gaze—everything that hides in the darkness and goes bump in the night. I can feel the raw, unencumbered magic flowing through my veins, a heady, intoxicating sensation.

Energy returns to me, and I no longer feel lethargic and tired. I’m practically vibrating with anticipation as I slowly rise to my feet.

“Draven?” Calan sounds distressed now. “What in Gaia’s name is going on? Are you hurt?”

“I feel…powerful,” I purr silkily as I reach for the bars of my cell.

Magic flows through my fingertips, and the metal crackles, turning into stardust that rains down around me.

I step out of my cell and turn towards Calan’s.

The Winter Prince sits on the floor, gaping at me. His white hair appears almost brown—no doubt a product of dirt, blood, and grime. Dark smudges outline both of his eyes. He looks thinner than I remember him being, and his stylish clothes practically hang off his slender frame.

“Draven?” Calan hurries to his feet and grips the cell bars tightly.

I turn my gaze towards the cuff on his wrist as thunderous anger reverberates through me.

Without a word, I reach for the cuff and watch it crumble to dust.

Calan stares in wide-eyed disbelief before slowly shifting his gaze to me. He blinks multiple times before he seems to come back to himself. As I watch, his careful mask rearranges itself back on his face.

He doesn’t thank me or even acknowledge me as he touches the bars of his cage and turns them to ice. Then, with another flick of his wrist, the ice shatters, and he joins me.

Incandescent anger sparks in his blue eyes, an emotion I know is mirrored in my own.

“How about we go find Sylvan and put an end to this once and for all?” I ask darkly.

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