Page 182 of The Forbidden Dragon King
I blink against the smoke, choking. The olive grove around me is aflame. The dragons are directing their fire at the area that I’ve fallen. I drag my sleeve over my mouth and nose, struggling to breathe. My eyes sting. Ican’t see anything but dancing orange through a fog of smoke.
My heart is hammering.
How can I get through this hell to the Umbra? To my Omega?
My ravens rise up now enraged, diving at the dragons and their riders, pecking furiously.
I struggle to my knees, coughing. My feathers are singed.
I attempt to crawl in one direction but grunt as a blast of flames scorch my cheeks, driving me back. I blink through the smoke and try again in another, but falling embers catch in my hair. I hiss in pain, burning my palms, as I pat them out.
I’m trapped. I’m being burned alive.
I try to stretch out my wings.
“Fucking fly.” I attempt to focus all my magic but nothing happens.
Until now, I believed that as much as I grieved the loss of my flight, I could live without it.
My pinion feather has given me warning but it’s also ensured that I can’t fly to Freya’s rescue. I can’t even save myself from being burned to ash in this olive grove.
Except, the pinion feather of a fae should also be able to create a portal between soulmates. Do I still hold enough shadow magic to create one?
My eyes blaze, as I wrench my wings forward. I ignore the pain, the smoke in my lungs, and the burns from the flames.
I ignore everything apart from the shadows flowing through me, throwing them out in front of me.
Instantly, the flames die down.
The shadows swirl into a portal, as black as night before the moon or the stars were born. The portal expands and expands, until it’s large enough.
Then I throw myself into the void with a warrior yell of rage and agony.
It’s like dying.
It’s like being taken apart and then being put together again.
It’s like being battered with every overwhelming emotion and sensation for less than a fraction of a second and yet an infinite amount of time.
I land on the other side of the shadow portal on the muddy riverbank of the Umber, disorientated, barely able to see, and nauseous.
Yet I still sense Freya’s terror through the bond.
I sniff, desperately trying to smell her.
When I catch the smell of roses, I drag myself through the mud toward the edge of the river, letting her scent guide me alone.
I wrinkle my nose, listening to the loud sound of the rushing river below.
My Omega is down there.
How did she fall? Is she on a ledge?
I take a deep breath. I don’t have a way to get her out of this from up here. I’ll need to join her.
I let my body go lax, which is the best way to avoid injury, then I grit my teeth and fall over the steep bank.
“Daire?” I hear Freya’s panicked call. “Watch out. Don’t fall.”
