Page 226 of The Dryad Storm

Issani wasteland

Surrounded by my shield of violet Wyvernfire, I surge through the Shadow storm band, the roar of black-gray churning chaos surrounding me and pummeling against my fire-shield, which rapidly thins as Vogel’s Shadow storm siphons off its energy.

I accelerate, racing for what feels like forever to outrun the storm band’s consumption of Yvan’s magic. Eventually, I sense a lessoning of the maelstrom just ahead. Heart in my throat, I leap toward the storm band’s farthest edge at the same moment the surrounding storm crashes through my fire-shield.

A lung-punching gust hits my back, its Shadow slithering straight through me and around my rootlines as I’m blown clear off my feet and out of the storm band’s eastern-facing side.

I cry out, hurtling through the air and then colliding with the ground. My palms slam down onto charred, smoking soil, an acid tang in the corrupted air.

Heart thundering, I force myself up, nothing but the blackened shapes of dead trees all around as I’m overtaken by the rootline-clutching feel of the Shadow tendrils curling up from the ground parasitically linking into my power.

The shrieks of broken dragons sound over the roaring storm band’s expanse, so loud their collective rage shakes the ground. Breath shudders through my lungs as my empathy senses Vogel’s forces gathering on the other side of the storm band. Possibly waiting for Vogel to arrive and open a path through it, or for the bulk of my Wyvern power to be siphoned off by the leaching Shadow tendrils before they strike.

Or both.

A chill streaks down my spine as I launch into a sprint away from the storm band,the Shadow tendrils drawing more intently on my power, the Wyvernfire Yvan is flooding into me soon struggling to even reach my lines.

I need to find living wood, or it’s all over.

I zigzag around grayed, smoking corpses of trees, frantically searching for some sliver of surviving wood until a cramp screams in my side. My steps falter, fire power sapped from my rootlines and into the Shadow as I begin to severely weaken.

I catch sight of a sliver of pale brown bark.

My eyes widen at the slash of rich color in the center of the charred trunk just ahead.

Pulse quickening into a gallop, I lurch forward and fall to my knees before it. Lifting my hands, I frantically scratch back the small slash of uncharred bark with my Dryad nails and uncover a surviving sliver of tawny, living wood, my breathing becoming labored as my rootlines begin to shrivel.

I pry the sliver of wood from the charred tree just as my glimmering Dryad-green hue fades to gray, my Zhilaan Forest linkage too distant to fight off this much Shadow. A cry escapes me, the rapidly diminishing thread of my Wyvernbond to Yvan the only thing keeping me from collapsing into gray oblivion.

A pulse of monumental Shadowed Wyvern-Mage power hits my back, stealing my breath, silver sparks streaking across my vision.

Vogel.

His strengthening aura of corrupted fire approaching from the storm band’s western side.

Desperation ripples through me, my access to magic decimated, Yvan still leagues away, Vogel and his forces poised to advance through their storm band and take hold of me.

Clear that my chances of survival are dwindling, I do the last thing left to me.

Pray.

“Ancient One,” I implore, clutching at the living wood as tears blur my eyes, “Blessed Vo. Mai’ya. Oo’na.Anyonewho can hear me. Please,help me. I will give mylifefor Erthia if you do. I’mbeggingyou.Please. Don’t let Vogel win.”

Elloren.

I freeze, the voice seeming to come from deep inside of me as well as from the tiny piece of living wood. A familiar, masculine voice I thought I’d never hear again.

Stunned, I glance up to find Lukas sitting on a charred branch just above me,a Watcher perched on his shoulder.

An explosive surge of emotion shears straight through my heart.

“Lukas!”I cry, choking on his name, my tears giving way.

Because he’s as transparent as the Watcher.

And utterly transfigured.

His skin is a deep, glimmering Dryad green, his ears pointed and hiseyes... they’re full of verdant fire. More Watchers shiver into view on the charred branches around him.

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