Page 355 of Heat of the Everflame

His grey eyes locked with mine. His gryvern hurtled nearer, and I began to raise my shield.

Fight, my godhood hissed.

Again, the scabbard tingled against my palm. Its strange, buzzing energy seemed almost like a godhood of its own, itsvoicewhispering of a storied fate trapped within its gilded embrace.

A thought tickled the back of my mind.

An instinct.

A hunch.

Ophiucae’s lips curled into a serpentine smile, and the mark at my throat began to throb. His gryvern was nearly on me now, sweat beading on my skin from the heat of its flames.

I raised my chin and slid the godstone sword free of its scabbard. The murmurs of its blade grew louder, the language foreign but the message clear:

Fight.

Every rational thought screamed at me to run.

But my godhood was calm. And so was I.

Without breaking Ophiucae’s smoky gaze, I dropped my foot back and lifted my sword. My hair fluttered in the draft from his gryvern’s wings, its inferno caressing me with a turbulent, boiling wind.

Luther yelled my name as the fire consumed me. Pale flames licked my skin, tickled my neck. They burned—gods, did they burn, the bone-deep intensity nearly bringing me to my knees.

And yet my body remained untouched.

The gryvern’s other talon unfurled, preparing to pluck me into its grasp.

Fight.

With a cry of defiance, I punched the sword into the sky. As the gryvern soared over my head, the glittering black point pierced the soft flesh of its belly and carved a deep ravine into its ribs.

The beast shrieked and abruptly jerked skyward. Blood from its wound drizzled down, painting me in red. Its talons jerked open, and Doriel fell to the ground with a sickening thump.

I ran to their side and pushed out healing magic, grimacing at the mangled mess of bone chips and shredded organs my magic surged to repair. Relief washed over me as their eyes flew open with a gasp.

“I... I saw you from the air,” they sputtered. “The ice. The roots. My... mywound.”

I dipped my chin in a single nod to confirm the question behind their terrified stare.

“Does that meanhecan do it all, too?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “If he can, I haven’t seen him use it.”

Doriel’s heart looked broken as they gazed over my shoulder. “My city—he’s destroying my city.”

Though the dragonfyre had done little to the glass and metal structures dominating the streets, the old mortal buildings were now engulfed in flames. I hurled water magic toward them—and swore as it splashed uselessly to the ground, the buildings too far from my reach.

“Doriel,” I said, “find Stuart—he’ll have two Descended with him. Take them with you and get back on your gryvern.”

“He’ll kill us,” they said, looking hopeless. “Vexes is too slow.”

“The Faunos Descended can speak to gryverns. They can’t make the beast disobey him, but if they’re smart, they can find ways to interfere. And the Meros Descended can use the wind to slow him down and speed you up.”

The cogs in their clever mind wheeled into motion. “Yes—yes, perhaps that could work.” They scrambled to their feet, whispering beneath their breath. A high-pitched trill answered from the sky.

I glanced down the street in search of Luther. Everywhere I looked, mortals and Descended were locked in combat—and not just the Sophos guards. Foreign Descended had been watching the battle unfold from their hiding spots, and several had bravely joined the fray. They had learned from my methods, working in tandem to build obstacles of vines, rock, and ice.

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