Page 68 of The Dryad Storm

Dark wings erupting into Shadowfire.

The wings enlarging, overtaking a distant Forest canopy before beating silver gray fire down on the trees.

Leagues and leagues of treesburning...

Clarity descends as I realize the source of the Forest’s confusion—the Wyvernfire Vogel stole from Yvan when he wrested hold of our Wyvernbond during the battle at Voloi... a trace of it must still be present in Vogel’s Shadow-corrupted firelines. And now the trees are sensing that same fire in Yvan through our Wyvernbond.

My gaze locks onto Yvan’s. “The trees think it’syoudestroying the Western Forest,” I force out through the line-stretching pain, while Yvan fights the Forest off with an encircling wall of invisible fire, his body beginning to tremble from the effort. I swing my gaze toward III. “Yvan’s fire isn’t burning you down! TheMagedom’sis!”

III responds with a more urgent pull on our bond, desperation overtaking me as the Forest’s visions gain potency, the Prophecyflippingin the Northern Forest and III’s mind.

Setting itself fully against Yvan.

“No!”The word erupts from my throat in a growl, Erthia-tilting in its intensity as Yvan keeps hold of our bond and I face down III, the Dryads, the entire Northern Forest—the entirety ofErthia. “He’s not your enemy! He’s myWyvernbonded MATE!”

My heart seems to burst open around the word, while Yvan’s fireexplodes, our energy shot through with my intention to be with himalways.

Yvan’s incandescent gaze collides with mine, a look of pure passion blazing in it.An emotional snarl escapes him, defiance bolting through us with the strength of worlds cleaving, our bonded fire power rising to blistering heights.

Yvan’s shoulders stiffen, and his expression turns feral as his power sears through my lines in a scorching blast of heat. I draw the living branch III gave to me, life flooding through it via my Forest connection, both of us ready to go to elemental war over this huge, flaming line in the sand, even though I know nothing about wielding magic as a Dryad.

Because we’redone.

Done with being forced away from anyone we love. Done with being coerced into a prophesied fight that only brings division and destruction to Erthia.

The Prophecy endshere.

Without warning, Oaklyyn thrusts her runic staff toward Yvan.

I thrust out my branch and murmur the words to the Mage fire-blast spell to no effect, while Yvan bolts out a line of golden fire from his palm. At the same moment, Sylvan levels a pine branch at Oaklyyn and sends a line of deep-green flame toward her staff and Hazel lashes out blurred tendrils of black mist at the staff from his clawed fingertips.

Hazel’s magic whips around the staff and wrests it from Oaklyyn’s grip just before Yvan’s and Sylvan’s bolts of fire slam into the weapon.

It bursts into gold and green flame.

Oaklyyn’s expression turns murderous as she glares at Hazel and Sylvan and spears her finger at Yvan. “Our Forest has named himenemy!” she cries. “But beyond that, he’sLasair Wyvern! He’sall firewith no other elements to temper it!Tree-killingfire! His bond to the Black Witchmustbe broken before his power fully connects to our Forest and burns it toash!”

A maelstrom of conflict shudders through Yvan’s fire, while my ravens’ caws and pulsing auras gain more urgent force.

Yvan hisses out what sounds like a Wyvern curse, his fervid gaze swinging to meet mine. “She’s right,” he grits out. “I can’t war with the trees to keep hold of our bond and risk the Forest’s destruction. The Forest is the source of all yourpower...”

“The Forest needs to find a way to ally with you,” I counter. “Itcan’tbe aligned with me while warring with you. We can’t fight Vogel divided like that. The Prophecycannotstand!”

My words are cut off as III’s potent aura descends through the storming chaos, asense of vast, invisible weight bearing down on the entire Northern Forest, on Yvan and me and my rootlines. We all flinch, including the Dryads, my ravens’ caws ceasing and their pulsing power dissipating as all of us look to the Great Ironwood Tree.

“Let III decide!” Yulan’s impassioned voice chimes out.

I meet the lichen-lashed gaze of the petite Dryad, struck by the dead certainty I find in it that this is Yvan’s and my only chance to convince the Forest to see past the Prophecy.

To convinceIIIto see who Yvan truly is, as it did with me.

“Put your palms on III’s bark,” I urge Yvan while fighting against the surrounding Forest’s rootline-stretching pullawayfrom him. “Let III read you.”

“No!”Oaklyyn cries, her tone one of pure desperation. “Icaral,no...”

“I’m all killing fire, Elloren,” Yvan rasps. He glances at III, conflict whipping through his power even as he rages to hold on to our bond. Eyes bright with pain, he grips my shoulders. “Our Wyvernbond is directly connected to my core of fire. I’m set apart from this. I’m set apart fromyou—”

“No, you’renot,” I protest as the surrounding Forest flings another fiery warning full of dark wings through my mind. But there’s another image blooming inside me once more.Rootingitself deep in my beleaguered center—III’s vision ofeveryoneencircling the Great Tree’s broad trunk, all of us joined to III and intimately linked to the Natural Matrix. Intimately joined to the power of Life.

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