Page 34 of Wicked Depths

Something freely given.

The thought unsettles me.

Because I do not give freely.

I have built my power through bargains, through exchanges. Magic is never free.

And yet…

I think of Nyxara, her strength, her kingdom, the creatures that look to her for protection, the fire in her veins, the unyielding determination in her emerald eyes. The more I learn of her, the more I understand her—the more I want to help her. Not just because of our bargain. Not just because of the power she could give me in return. But because something within me wants her to win.

I have never felt such a thing before. The idea of giving—of offering my magic with no price, no cost—is foreign, unfathomable. And yet, as I kneel here, siphoning power from my realm into my own being, I do not think of what I could take. I think of what I could offer her. The realization is dangerous. It curls deep inside me, unfamiliar, shifting my very foundation. But I do not resist it.

I let it settle.

A flicker of heat brushes my senses. A presence, stirring at the edge of my awareness. I do not react at first, my focus still tethered to my magic, still pulling, still receiving. And then, sharp and abrupt—

"Vaela!"

Acracksounds through the chamber, and the world shudders.

I gasp as the portal collapses.

The glowing vortex flickers violently before shattering, the bioluminescent light snuffing out, the currents snapping back into the void like a wave receding too fast.

I lurch forward, my hands gripping the edge of the table to steady myself as my connection to the sea is ripped away. A clawed hand seizes my wrist, yanking me back before I canregain my balance. I blink, dazed, my mind still caught between realms.

Nyxara.

Towering over me, hair still tousled from sleep, robe hanging loose over her shoulders.

She is all fire and fury, magic curling in the air around her like a storm barely held in check.

Her eyesburn.

"What," she hisses, voice rough with sleep and something sharper, "the hell do you think you’re doing?"

I blink at her, my breath still heavy from the exertion, my body still thrumming from the rush of magic. “Good morning to you too,Dragon Queen.”

Her claws dig into my wrist, her grip unforgiving. “You were opening a portal.”

“Brilliant deduction,” I muse, regaining my breath. “Shall I award you a prize?”

She growls, low and threatening, the sound reverberating between us. Her body presses closer, the heat rolling off her like a wildfire.

“You think this is a joke?” she snaps. “I trusted you.”

That catches me off guard.

I narrow my eyes. “You thought I was escaping?”

She doesn’t answer.

Oh.

Oh, that is rich.

I laugh, sharp and humorless, but beneath it, something else stirs—annoyance. Frustration.

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