Page 126 of The Demon Tide

And come to an immediate halt.

A clutch of soldiers stands before me, idling near a runic roadblock. Suspended, wheel-size blue-glowing runes stretch out in a line just past them, the sorceresses’ faces obscured by both the light behind them and their cloaks’ dark hoods. One of the soldiers raises a piece of blue lumenstone and angles the bright shard toward me, casting us both in its glow.

Every muscle in my fire-suffused body tightens as I meet the falcon stare of Quoi Zhon—one of the soldiers I traveled with to the Agolith Desert.

One of the Vu Trin soldiers who tried to kill me.

Time warps as Quoi Zhon’s piercing stare sharpens and the remembrance mushrooms into a full-blown reckoning—If she recognizes you through the glamour, you’re dead. Quietly turn and leave. Just turn and leave.

Pulse blasting, I slowly pivot on my heels, lower my head and start a measured retreat, praying that her memory fails to connect.

“Halt!” her dominant voice booms out.

The word is an arrow shot to my back. I launch into a sprint, throwing myself into the next alley as her cry of“Black Witch!”goes up. Multiple boot heels give chase, my feet skidding against cobbled stone. I race forward, barely able to think around the dash of my heart against my rib cage and the intensifying firelight aura veiling my vision. Drawing on Lukas’s and Valasca’s training, I wrest hold of my Ash’rion blade and slide my fingers across the hilt’s air runes, hastily murmuring a runic spell.

A shiver of cold hits my back. I turn and skid onto a narrow street to my left just as a whistlingwhirsounds behind me. Not slowing, I glance over my shoulder and spot countless frost-knives scything through the air behind me, along with bright streaks of silver stars.

Panic firing, I hurl myself into another alley, the stars and knives crashing and clanking against a wall to my rear as my stomach gives a nauseating twist.

The alley I’ve ducked into is far too long. I can’t outpace them to its end.

The metallic tang of rune magic behind me powers up. I can taste it on the back of my tongue. The panicked stampede of my pulse threatens to overwhelm me as Yvan’s Wyvernfire sears through my lines.

Fight them, I can almost hear Lukas and Valasca growling out at me.You can’t outrun them, so stand and fight!

Some animal nerve deep inside me springs to life. Shoving my fear aside, I grit my teeth, whip around, and draw back my arm, the translucent green aim tracks from the Wand forming in my Wyvernfire-streaked vision. With a snarl, I hurl my arm forward and release my Ash’rion blade.

A huge gust of silver-glowing wind blasts from the blade and collides with the soldiers, scattering their raised weapons as they grunt from its force, blown against the building behind them so hard they crumple to the ground.

My breath stuttering in amazement, I curl my fingers into my palm’s glamoured retrieval rune, and the Ash’rion soars through the alley, back into my hand. I pivot, ready to race away, but freeze as I take in the much larger contingent of soldiers closing in on the alley’s other end.

“Stay where you are!” the lead soldier bellows.

I stumble backward as they launch themselves toward me, unsheathing their swords with a terrifyingly uniformscreech, the Wyvernfire in my lines surging to scorching heights. My skin slick with sweat, I fumble to read their magic and prepare a counterstrike as they fire up a multitude of elemental power.

Too much power.

As I realize, with debilitating certainty, that this is the end.

Thewhooshof powerful wings sounds above.

My gaze snaps up, a ferocious blast of Wyvernfire aura searing down, intensely bright. Shock ignites as an Icaral swoops in and lands with his back to me, black horns arcing up from crimson hair, dark wings unfurled. He’s shirtless and spectacularly muscular, his skin covered in glowing sapphire and emerald runes.

Ancient One...

Fire leaps through my vision, obscuring his form as he pushes both of his palms out to his sides and circles them in the air. A cyclonic spiral of fire flashes to life, blasting from his hands like two prone tornados of flame, smoke and wind churning around them.

He thrusts his palms out hard and the fire-tornados launch toward the Vu Trin at both alley ends, pummeling into their fire-shielded uniforms and driving them back with stunning impact. Forcing his palms out once more, he projects more flame to form two barriers of fire.

And then he turns.

Yvan’s gold-blazing gaze locks on to mine as the full, dizzying rush of his fire bond grips hold of me.

“Yvan,” I rasp as everything in the world but him and the fire burns away.

His eyes lighting to incandescence, he surges toward me, the heat of his fire bond turning cataclysmic as he sweeps me into his arms.

A cry escapes my throat as I’m consumed by the sensation of him—strong arms tight around me, his hot muscular back hard beneath my palms, the brush of his wings against my shoulders, his strong heartbeat against my chest, that familiar, bonfire scent of his skin.

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