Page 86 of Too Dangerous To Die

The ruin begins to collapse in earnest now. Stone rain. Screaming magic. The death of something that was never meant to live this long.

He scoops me into his arms—stone skin flaring across his shoulders as his gargoyle form takes over. Wings unfurl. Eyes burn like stars behind a storm.

“Hold on,” he growls.

I do.

And we rise.

41

RHAEGAR

The wind tears at my wings, cold and relentless, but I barely feel it.

Nora is in my arms, her heartbeat pressed against mine, and for a few stolen breaths, that’s all that matters. The ruin crumbles beneath us, swallowed in flame and shrieking magic, while the stronghold behind it erupts into chaos. Columns fall. Wards rupture. Dark elf sentries shout over the cacophony, blades drawn, eyes wild with confusion as the sky splits in hues of red and ash.

They don’t know what happened.

They never saw her.

They’ll never know how close the world came to burning.

She watches them as we rise higher—her face turned toward the destruction below, eyes wide not with fear, but with something like awe. Like peace. Her arms wrap tighter around my neck, a silent confession that she’s holding on not because she’s afraid… but because she’s free.

And gods help me, I want to believe it’s over.

I want to believe that we won.

Her voice is a whisper at my throat. “It’s done… she’s gone.”

I nod, unable to speak around the weight in my chest.

Medea is gone.

The tether is severed.

The ruin is dying.

And Nora is safe.

She exhales slowly, her forehead pressing into the hollow of my neck as I beat my wings harder, pushing us beyond the mountains, beyond the fire and the ruin and the past. Her magic curls warm against mine, steady in days. No whispers. No tremors. Just Nora.

And for a moment.

For one fragile, golden moment, I let myself believe.

Until I feel it.

It starts as a tug—deep in my chest, sharp and familiar. Like something ancient waking from the bottom of my ribcage. I falter. Just slightly. The wind stutters around us, and she lifts her head.

“Rhaegar?”

I push through, gritting my teeth as I correct our flight path, but the pain spreads. Quietly. Insistently.

Like cracks in stone.

Her brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”

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