Page 43 of Scorched By Fate

It carried sharp across the ridge, rough and furious, breaking control of every sound or thought I’d tried to hold onto in the moment.

When Vyne came down from the air, itwasn’tcalculated, smooth, or finely executed as I’d come to expect from him. This wasn’t control.

This was rage, and it hit with force enough to split the ridge wide beneath both Drakarn.

The red Drakarn bucked under Vyne's impact, claws scrabbling against crumbling rock as he reeled forward. His wings flared for balance, but Vyne didn’t let him recover. Talons locked deep into his opponent's shoulders, ripping downward in a vicious arc that sent blood splattering across the ridge.

The clash was deafening—snarls and bone-rattling roars that echoed around us. Vyne’s movements were sharp, relentless. Calculated violence gave way to unpredictability, and I caught the glint of his fangs as he lunged for the red-scaled warrior’s throat.

Air rushed past me in dizzying bursts that stole my breath. The fight was too fast, too brutal—green and red scales blurred in and out of the sulfur haze rising from the heat vents.

This wasn’t the Vyne I knew. His precision was still there, but it was wrapped in something unrestrained. Something that didn’t stop for control or reason.

My chest tightened painfully as I forced myself closer to the woman. Her ragged breathing was practically a wheeze now, audible even above the hiss of steam and the crashing of claws on stone.

"I'm here," I managed, my voice sharp and strained as I crouched low. My knees pressed into the unstable rock, hands tightening around the knife until the metal cut cold into my palm. She flinched at the sound of my voice, her eyes cuttingtoward me in recognition before another tremor in the ground wrenched her focus away.

Above us, the battle whirled in unpredictable surges. Vyne struck fast—aiming for weak points with brutal efficiency—but the red-scaled warrior lashed out harder, the weight of his strikes threatening to overpower Vyne’s speed.

A snap of wings. A hiss of claws. The silence of held breath before a tail cracked the air.

Vyne twisted mid-dodge, his wings beating downward in a ruthless push that drove his enemy farther back toward the ledge. His claws sliced clean along a vulnerable patch of scales near the other Drakarn’s chest, and the snarl that erupted in response sent a spark of panic rocketing through me.

I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t even blink.

The red-scaled warrior lunged, his claws reaching wide with a force that could crush bone—and barely missed. He stumbled under his own weight as Vyne rolled out of the way, dragging a second strike along the length of his enemy’s exposed side.

Blood splattered the ridge in dark streaks.

It was violent. Brutal. Terrifying.

The woman whimpered again behind me, tearing my attention away just long enough to see how badly she was shaking. Her hands clutched at her sides, fingers pale and trembling, her chest rising and falling too fast as she gasped for air she couldn’t seem to find.

“It's going to be okay,” I said to her firmly, keeping my voice low and steady despite the nauseating churn of dread in my stomach. “Just stay behind me. I’ve got you.”

Her head jerked in what might have been a nod—hesitant, broken—but her weight shifted forward like she meant to try. She didn’t say anything, her cracked lips trembling as her eyes darted between me and the fight above.

A hiss snapped my attention back to Vyne just in time to see the red-scaled warrior’s body twisting unnaturally at the ridge’s edge. A final swing—a desperate last strike—broke through Vyne’s attempts to pin him fully down, and the larger Drakarn’s wings flared wide as he slashed upward.

The blow grazed Vyne’s wing, ripping through the delicate membrane as he snarled and pressed in harder.

Together, their weight sent a tremor crashing through the ridge as the unstable ground beneath them buckled again.

“Vyne!” I shouted, my voice sharp enough to cut over the volcanic hiss.

He didn’t hear me—or if he did, his focus stayed locked entirely on his opponent.

His claws drove forward, ripping through the edges of armor-like scales and drawing a guttural, labored roar from the other Drakarn. Even through the blood, the snarling, and the unrelenting violence of the moment, Vyne’s purpose rang clear.

He wasn’t just fighting. He was finishing this.

The ridge groaned under their combined force, crumbling farther as the red-scaled warrior’s claws lost their grip.

But as the fight tipped all its weight into the battle above, it left the ground beneathmewobbling too close to breaking.

Another fissure split through the stone just inches behind my heels, and I grabbed the woman’s arm fast to pull us both back before the broken edge of the ridge could give way entirely.

Her hands clung tightly to my arm now, fingernails digging into my skin like she didn’t trust her own legs to hold her upright anymore.

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