Page 66 of Fired Up Love

“Your brother has misunderstood several fundamental aspects of the Founding Pyre,” Xai deflected, focusing on the manacles. The lock mechanism appeared complex—magical and physical components intertwined to create a hybrid security system. Breaking it would require precision rather than brute force.

“He specializes in selective comprehension.” Luciana held perfectly still as he examined her bindings. “He plans to rewrite the Pyre’s protection, make himself sole guardian. The blood moon amplifies transformation magic?—”

The obsidian doors exploded inward with catastrophic force, ancient stone shattering into deadly projectiles. The sound hit like a physical blow—the crack and boom of magically enhanced explosives followed by the shriek of stone fragments slicing through air.

SIXTY-THREE

Xai spun, raising a wall of dragon fire that incinerated the largest fragments before they could reach Luciana. Smaller pieces peppered his back, tearing through his jacket and embedding in muscle. The pain registered distantly—a problem for later. The protective instinct came without conscious thought—a testament to the time guarding Enchanted Falls.

Smoke and dust billowed through the ruined doorway, temporarily obscuring visibility. Even Xai’s enhanced senses struggled to penetrate the magical interference woven into the explosion. Gradually, shapes formed in the haze—first outlines, then details.

Severin Madrigal strode through the ruined doorway, immaculate in a tailored black suit despite the chaos. Not a speck of dust marred the expensive fabric, not a hair out of place. The dramatic entrance had been carefully calculated—timed to maximize both intimidation and theatrical effect.

Three mercenary sorcerers flanked him—twins with identical raven tattoos adorning their shaved scalps, and a massive orc whose green skin bore raised runic scars. Magic crackled around them, the twins wielding water spells that shimmered blue against the chamber’s darkness, the orc grinding mountain ash between massive palms.

“Right on schedule,” Severin announced, adjusting gold cufflinks with fastidious precision. His eyes—amber with feline vertical pupils—assessed Xai with calculated interest. “The dragon elder himself, rather than sending minions. How fortunate.”

“I’ve come to negotiate Luciana’s release,” Xai stated, his voice deceptively calm despite the fire building beneath his skin. He shifted his stance subtly, creating a better angle to protect Luciana while maintaining eye contact with Severin.

Severin laughed, the sound echoing off stone walls. “Negotiate? You misunderstand your position, Elder Emberwylde. You’re not here by accident or clever tracking. I wanted you here. You and that golden scale you gave the Parker woman.”

The statement landed like a slap in the face. Xai kept his expression neutral, but his mind raced with implications. The scale connection—their private link—had been monitored or traced somehow. Had Severin witnessed their intimate moments? Did he know about their plans, their strategies, their weaknesses?

“How much you’ve changed these past weeks,” Severin continued, circling like a predator testing defenses. “The once-untouchable dragon elder, suddenly involved in town gossip. Suddenly concerned with a little spa and its owner. Suddenly... vulnerable.”

He spat the last word like an accusation, circling closer with each sentence. The mercenaries spread out, taking strategic positions throughout the chamber. The twins moved in perfect synchronization, water spells at the ready. The orc positioned himself near a secondary altar, tree-trunk arms crossed over his massive chest.

“The mighty dragon elder reduced to rescue missions.” Severin straightened his jacket sleeves, brushing invisible dust from the fabric with meticulous care. “That lioness has domesticated you rather quickly. Tell me, does she make you heel? Sit? Roll over?”

Something inside Xai shattered—a dam holding back a lifetime of carefully controlled draconic instinct. The taunt pierced deeper than any physical attack, triggering protective rage that overwhelmed rational thought. Scales erupted down his arms, golden light bleeding through his skin as control slipped through fingers suddenly elongating into claws.

His vision sharpened painfully, colors intensifying as his eyes shifted toward draconic form. The chamber’s temperature rose exponentially, air shimmering with heat waves around his body. Stone melted beneath his feet, forming shallow puddles of liquid rock that rapidly cooled to obsidian.

“You know nothing of dragons,” he growled, voice deepening to a thunderous rumble that shook dust from the ceiling. The words contained power beyond their literal meaning—each syllable reverberating with draconic authority that had cowed far more impressive beings than Severin Madrigal.

To his credit, Severin showed no fear. His expression remained calculated even as he stepped back to a safer distance. “I know enough,” he countered, entirely unintimidated. He gestured toward the altar. “Your blood will serve my purpose regardless of your cooperation.”

The twins moved in unison, water whips slicing through the air toward him. Xai sidestepped with inhuman speed, retaliating with standard dragon fire that they countered with practiced ease. The flames sizzled into steam upon contact with their water shields, clouding the air between them.

He recognized the tactics—water mages specifically trained against dragon opponents. Their spells formed not just shields but compression chambers that suffocated flames through rapid condensation. Standard countermeasures wouldn’t work against such specialized techniques.

Xai changed angles, targeting the ground beneath their feet rather than their shields directly. Stone cracked and bubbled under intense heat, forcing the twins to divide their attention between offensive spells and maintaining stable footing.

“Predictable,” Severin commented from a safe distance. “Dragons always resort to fire. So limited in your thinking. My researchers studied your kind for decades—your abilities, your weaknesses, your patterns.”

SIXTY-FOUR

The condescension ignited something deeper inside Xai. Drawing from reserves he rarely accessed, he unleashed a different fire—cobalt-white flames that burned colder and hotter simultaneously. “Starfire,” ancient dragons called it, a rare form he’d kept secret from all but his closest family members.

The devastating display caught the mercenaries off guard. Ordinary flames obeyed certain physical laws; starfire ignored them entirely. It burned without oxygen, intensified with water, and spread against the natural flow of heat transfer.

The leftmost twin screamed as white flame consumed his water shield, scorching ancient stonework black behind him. The water meant to douse normal fire instead amplified the starfire, turning defensive magic into a conductor that spread the unnatural flames along his arms and torso. He dropped to the ground, rolling desperately to extinguish what could not be smothered.

The orc staggered backward, runic scars glowing defensively as he raised massive arms to shield his face. Mountain ash scattered from his grasp, the carefully prepared magical component rendered useless in seconds. The runic protection inscribed in his flesh provided some defense, but even that ancient magic struggled against starfire.

The surviving twin frantically modified his water spells, adding elements of earth magic to create mud shields instead of pure water barriers. A clever adaptation, but insufficient against sustained attack.

Memory flashed through Xai’s mind—1850, when industrialists threatened to expose Enchanted Falls to human authorities. He’d used starfire then, the display convincing would-be invaders they faced something beyond their comprehension. The energy required had left him weakened for days afterward, but the town’s security had been worth the personal cost.

---