Page 52 of The Dryad Storm

Shadow power slams against the conjured barrier in a concussiveBOOM, and Mynx and Yyzz’ra leap back as the very ground shakes beneath them all, sprays of stone raining down from the cavern’s ceiling.

“It’s Vogel,” Wynter states, silver fire guttering in her eyes as she clutches the Verdyllion to her chest, her birds flapping around the cavern in panicked, aimless trajectories. “That entire storm... it’s shot through with his Shadow power.”

“We need to get farther underground and strengthen the Sublands’ Varg shielding,” Mavrik urges them all.

Another explosion hits the cavern’s barrier, and they set off in a sprint down the spiraling stone stairs until they reach the cavern’s base. Following Mynx andYyzz’ra, they race through a narrow tunnel, then into the expansive crimson cavern at its terminus, its huge ceiling covered in a net of interlocking Varg runes, part of the huge web of runes shielding the entire Central Desert’s Sublands.

Two young Smaragdalfar soldiers are there—Yyzz’ra’s comrades, the perpetually angry Gavryyl and quietly dangerous Valkyr—along with Sparrow, who rushes over to greet Valasca. The two Subland soldiers are casting Varg rune after Varg rune into the air from precharged runic stones, swiftly spelling each rune upward to strengthen the rune net as fast as they can.

“All the tunnels to the south, west, and east of us have collapsed,” Valkyr calls to Yyzz’ra as he fashions runes. “We’re trapped. Cut off from the rest of our forces—”

Another seismic blow rattles the earth, and the Varg rune net gives a worrisome flicker to gray.

“Holy gods,” Valasca snarls. “Vogel’s storm bands can overtake Varg magic!”

Wynter’s artistic courage still reverberating through her, Gwynn calmly narrows her eyes at the rune-netted ceiling and can tell, by reading which details of the runic design are flickering out, that the Smaragdalfar’s Subland barrier is a few minutes away from falling.

“It won’t hold,” she says to Mavrik, harsh and emphatic. “We need to fuse our magic with the Issani twinning spell, then link it to the shield.” She meets Wynter’s silver-fire-rimmed eyes. “Using the Verdyllion.” Gwynn’s eyes snap pointedly back to Mavrik’s, a fervid look passing between them before he nods.

Without a beat of hesitation, Wynter tosses Gwynn the Verdyllion, and she catches it. A tremor passes through her as the Wand’s prismatic energy shoots through her every line. Her trapped power expands, a sense of purerightnessfilling her core as the Verdyllion’s green glow spreads over her wand hand and straight up her wrist.

Mavrik’s arms come around her from behind, his wand hand closing around hers.

Their combined power floods Gwynn’s lines, her light magery streaking toward the Verdyllion. She sets about fashioning two large, bright gold Issani twinning runes to hover in the air before them, the potential consequences of the twinning magic be fully damned.

Another violentBOOMsounds, like a monster battering against the earth, its intensifying roar against the Subland ceiling a nightmare of fury. The Varg rune net above them shivers to a grayer green, a few pieces of the ceiling cracking off andcrashing to the floor, a small preview of the devastation to come.

“Pull up your tunic,” Gwynn orders Mavrik. He releases her hand, her light magic snapping into its trapped state as he wrests off the garb.

Ignoring her neck-prickling rush of heat from staring at his naked upper body, she grabs the side of his belt and drags him close. He takes hold of her wand hand once more and follows her movements as she touches the Verdyllions’s tip to one of the runes then drags the rune onto his body, murmuring an Issani spell to fuse it there.

Mavrik shivers as the rune brightens in a rush of golden sparks then settles into a luminous golden design against his taut abdomen.

Another devastatingBOOMsounds, spiking through Gwynn’s ears. A hail of rocks rains down as the Subland Elves furiously cast Varg runes, the runes fragmenting to gray as quickly as they’re cast.

Hurling modesty aside, Gwynn pulls up her own tunic and drags the second rune onto her skin, fusing it there in a prickling profusion of sparks, Mavrik’s grip firm around her hand.

Wasting no time, she fashions a third golden rune in the air before them. Bolstered by Mavrik’s steady grasp, Gwynn clamps her teeth together to dampen the dizzying clamor of nerves, and crafts golden lines connecting the suspended rune hanging before them to the runes marked on both of their abdomens. Feeling like she’s about to jump off a cliff leading straight off Erthia, she draws in a deep breath, exchanges one, last fraught look with Mavrik... and murmurs the Issani twinning spell.

Searing gold cuts through her vision. A startling pain strikes through her every line, her affinity lines tearing toward Mavrik’s with eviscerating force.

She cries out, Mavrik grunting out a sound of agony as they collide against each other, desperate to relieve the terrible pull, Gwynn’s lungs feeling on the verge of collapse as the agonizing tension nears breakage.

Fumbling for a way to connect and survive, she crashes her lips onto his.

The pain exploding through Gwynn’s lines abruptly morphs into a stunningly intimate sense of Mavrik’s every line of power fusing to hers, a startled energy blazing through his magic as a bright Issani gold overtakes Gwynn’s sight. They break the kiss, both of them pulling in great gulps of air, the gold in Gwynn’s vision rapidly clearing... to reveal Mavrik before her, his irises now an incandescent gold that Gwynn can sense shimmering through her own irises. Her eyes flit to WynterEirllyn’s silver-burning gaze. The two Agolith Flame Hawks are perched on Wynter’s shoulders, their feathers illuminating her slender form in vivid orange light.

Another cave-rattlingBOOMsounds.

Flooded with a resolve she can feel blazing through Mavrik’s power as well, Gwynn releases her hold on Mavrik and aims the Verdyllion at the Varg shielding while gritting out an Issani rune-connection spell, intimately aware that her and Mavrik’s connection no longer involves touch.

An iridescent bolt of their twinned power rays out from the Verdyllion and spears toward the cavern’s ceiling, the golden light startling Gwynn with its beauty. The rays furcate as they streak through the ceiling’s grayed Varg runes, blasting away the Shadow and recharging them all, each rune flashing into multihued light until the entire cavern’s ceiling pulses with Gwynn’s full spectrum of color power. The rain of stone lessens then abruptly stops, the Shadow storm’s onslaught muting to a faint, distant roar.

Gwynn pulls in a hard breath, filled by the heady, intrinsic sense of every Varg rune cast throughout the Central Desert’s Sublands now merged to her and Mavrik’s twinned power to create an impenetrable net of protection, the Sublands now a fortress.

Walled off from the Magedom.

Gwynn’s legs buckle. She’s caught by Mavrik, the two of them sinking to the ground, their twinned power momentarily spent, everything in them sent into the Subland shielding.

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