Page 96 of The Dryad Storm

But our fledgling shield’s combined power—I can sense that it’s stronger than the Shadow storm band. And our linked power is building, our entire Forest standing with us, roaring its power through our rootlines and into our shielding as I draw a deep breath and thrust my branch toward the heavens.

The rumble of my allies’ combined power surges into my wand arm, my magic amplifying it to world-bending heights. I can feel the Dryad spells charging into my branch, our shielding around III readying itself to spring outward over the entire Northern Forest...

... just as Vogel’s arcing storm band abruptly triples in height and crashes forward in a nightmarish tidal wave of gray.

Faster than I would have ever imagined possible, the Shadow storm rolls over the Northern Forest’s entire southern, eastern, and western expanses, league upon league of trees exploding with silvery-black flame, vast quantities of our Forest-linked power disintegrating with them.

My eyes widen as I’m overtaken by the instant sense of my magic hollowing out, my connection to my Dryad’kin guttering along with my connection to my too-distant dragon horde.

My allies’ magical connection wavers, the line of green coursing from my branch’s tip sizzling out of sight as the Shadow destruction mows through the Forest with astonishing speed and my rootlines seize.

“Augh!” I cry out, the Forest’s scream tearing through my mind.

My lungs contract with choking force. My grip slips from both the slim branch I’m holding and the huge branch I’m clinging to, and I fall, panic exploding as I fight for breath and plummet, Yvan’s fire suddenly igniting into a scorching roar through our bond.

He reaches me faster than I would have imagined possible, his strong arms seizing tight hold of me from behind, halting my free fall and soaring us upward into the sky before angling us back down toward III’s canopy.

I’m met with one last panoramic look south through our shielding around III. More than half of the Northern Forest has been destroyed, the Shadow storm bands rapidly consuming leagues more, the killing chaos headed straight for III.

“Help us!” I cry out to III, the choked-off scream forced from my throat as my rootlines begin to shrivel, Errilith’s caw of alarm sounding out.

An image flashes through my mind via my III connection—Wynter and herbrothers along with three Smaragdalfar soldiers assembled underground in front of III’s roots, Wynter, Cael, and Rhys now tinted green. The Verdyllion is gripped in Wynter’s hand as she blasts a circular shield around the Great Tree’s roots, the Verdyllion filled with a huge portion of III’s rapidly diminishing power, the rest of the Great Tree’s magic focused toward a mysterious purple aura suffusing the soil around its roots.

Dread slams down.

Because as Yvan soars us down through III’s canopy, I realize what’s happening. III is sacrificing its power to save Wynter and the Sublands and those trapped inside it.

And III is saving the Verdyllion.

Yvan touches down in the clearing surrounding the Great Tree as my rootlines collapse inward and I gasp for air, my vision beginning to black out as what’s left of my magic scours out of my body. Everyone, save Hazel and Yvan, is crumpled on the ground and struggling for breath, Yulan’s vine tresses stripped of their blossoms. Larch and Lyptus are unconscious, Larch’s bear and Lyptus’s panther pawing at them, while Yulan’s heron frantically rustles its wings. Everyone’s green hues are shifting to gray, a sense of our shield’s diminishing strength heightening my alarm.

My knees buckle as I struggle for breath, and Yvan tightens his hold on me before I can crumple to the ground. I glance at my quivering wand hand, a cascading sense of doom shuddering through me as I take in how, like my Dryad’kin, my forest green hue is rapidly morphing to gray.

“Our shield is giving way...” I force out to Yvan, and he glances up to where the new dome-shield around III is already beginning to gray, its tang of power dissolving.

My ravens let out boomingcaws as Hazel hisses out a string of Dryad spells and lifts his branch. Dark mist explodes from its tip and courses over our decaying shield, lines of power from my Errilor Ravens joining Hazel’s Deathkin magic.

“Elloren, what’s happening to you?” Yvan exclaims, his violet-fire gaze burning into mine.

“My rootlines are dying with my bonded Forest...” I gasp. The scouring sensation inside me turns eviscerating, as if my collapsing lines are about to be ripped clear from my body.

The flow of Yvan’s fire through our bond turns searing, a ferocious determination blazing through it. His gaze swings to Hazel. “We need to evacuate everyoneto the Forests of the East!Now!This magic is too powerful to fight!”

“We willnever evacuate!” Sylvan growls at Yvan from where he’s fighting for breath on the ground, his pine hue morphed to deadened gray and his branch hair stripped of its needles. The ferocity in his ash-tinted eyes remains undimmed. “This isour Forest! We are itsGuardians! Our people... if this fire reaches them in the North and consumes that portion of Forest, too, they will alldie, along with their kindred ones!”

My giant ravenscawout a louder warning, Errilith’s wings ruffling; a stark urgency lights his coal eyes as the incoming storm band’s Shadow winds slam against our decaying shield and all the trees surrounding the shield explode into gray fire.

A strangled scream tears from my chest, and I’m only half-aware of being lowered to the ground before Yvan raises his palm toward the incoming chaos and an inferno of horde-bonded fire ramps up in his core.

“No fire!”Hazel snarls, his lime hue stripped away to a haunting alabaster, dark horns raised, eyes fully black. “It will trigger a backblast from my shield that coulddestroy III!”

“It’s over!” Yvan hisses. “This Forest and III are doomed! We’ve got to evacuate everyonenow!”

“Never!”Oaklyyn chokes out, the word cut off as her body seizes and her wolverine snaps at us.

A devastated look crosses Hazel’s features as he takes in Oaklyyn and her kindred. He turns back to Yvan, the two of them exchanging one lethally decided look before Hazel’s face elongates and he gnashes his extended, blackened teeth, six black insectile legs bursting from his back.

Shock skids through my agony as Hazel drops his branch and lifts both his blackening palms and insectile legs.

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