Page 41 of Tempest Blazing
The wards hadn't just broken—someone had obliterated them completely.
Chapter 18
Tess
The world exploded into obsidian and chaos.
The ceiling didn't just crack—itshattered, massive chunks of stone and metal crashing down like the sky itself was falling. I threw my arms over my head, but everything moved wrong, sluggish and heavy. Pain dragged at every muscle. A piece of debris the size of a dinner table slammed into the ground inches from my face, and I couldn't even flinch fast enough.
Then I saw it. The dragon.
Massive didn't cover it—easily the size of a school bus, wings spread wide enough to blot out the arena lights. Obsidian scales caught the flickering torchlight, and its eyes burned like molten silver. But it wasn't the size that stopped my breath. It was the rider.
Draven.
He leaped from the dragon's back before it even touched ground, moving with that deadly grace I'd seen in the alley. The demon pinning me down—the one whose claws had been inches from my throat—didn't even have time to look up before Draven's blade slid between his ribs. The weight lifted off me with a wet gasp.
I stared up at Draven, heart hammering against my ribs. He'd come. He'd actually come.
"Stay down, love." His voice cut through the chaos, rough and urgent, but that endearment hit me like a physical touch. One arm swept out, shielding me as a bolt of demonic energy crashed into his back. The spell fizzled against his wards in a shower of sparks, but I saw the way his jaw tightened with the impact.
I tried to push myself up, but pain lanced through my ribs like a hot knife. The collar burned against my throat, pulsing with something that made my vision swim. I nodded instead, too breathless to argue, trusting him to hold the line while I fought just to stay conscious.
Around us, the arena had erupted into pure mayhem. The crowd wasn't just fleeing—they were tearing each other apart. A vampire ripped into a were's throat near the exit while others trampled over fallen bodies. Magic crackled through the air as witches hurled spells indiscriminately, and I watched a group of demons corner some terrified humans, claws out and eyes glowing. The panic had turned the spectators into something almost as dangerous as the arena itself.
The obsidian dragon landed beside us with a bone-jarring impact, wings folding with a sharp snap that sent pressure waves through my chest. I flinched instinctively—dragons werebig, and this one radiated power like a furnace. But instead of looming over me, it angled one massive wing to shield me from falling debris, its great head turning to nudge my shoulder with surprising gentleness. A soft rumble emanated from its chest—reassurance, protection.
It was protecting me. A dragon I'd never met was putting itself between me and harm.
Who—
"Well, well. The little human has friends!" That voice cut through everything else—metallic, grinding, like nails on a chalkboard mixed with rusted steel. Even with the crowd's panicked screams and the rumble of settling debris, I could hear every word with crystalline precision, as if my mind had automatically tuned into the frequency of the greatest threat.
My blood turned to ice as Dominick Graves stepped through the smoke and debris, his seven-foot frame cutting an imposing silhouette against the chaos. But his usual predatory composure had cracked—his lips twisted into a snarl as he surveyed the destruction, taking in the shattered arena with barely contained fury. His ashen skin glowed with those lava-textured cracks, pulsing brighter with his rage, and his obsidian eyes blazed as they swept from the rubble to me.
Garanth flanked him, no longer leaning casually but standing rigid with tension, his hands clenched into fists as he stared at the devastation. "Look at this mess!" he shouted over the din, that usual smirk replaced by a scowl of pure outrage. "Hours of setup, weeks of planning—and some upstart thinks they can just waltz in and steal our prize!"
My breath stuttered. They weren't retreating, but they weren't the calm, collected predators from before either. They werefurious—at the damage, at the interference, at someone having the audacity to try stealing what they'd already stolen. Their confidence had been replaced by the dangerous anger of criminals whose carefully laid plans had just gone up in smoke.
"Bring her to me!" Dominick's voice boomed across the arena, and I watched in horror as a squad of enforcers pushed through the chaotic crowd, shoving aside fleeing spectators and brawling supes alike. They moved with ruthless efficiency, cutting a direct path toward me through the mayhem.
A wall of fire erupted between us and the advancing demons, flames so hot they turned the air itself into a shimmering mirage. Kane emerged from the crowd of fleeing spectators, glamours flickering around him like heat distortion. His face was a mask of cold fury, blue-violet eyes calculating odds and angles even as magic crackled between his fingers.
My heart lurched. Kane was here. I'd had no idea—no warning, no sign that he'd even known where I was. The shock of seeing him step into this nightmare, magic blazing, left me breathless with disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.
He caught Draven's eye and nodded once. No words needed. They were buying me time.
Watching Kane weave spells with lethal precision, his magic carving through demons like they were made of paper, gratitude flooded through me so fierce it nearly brought tears to my eyes. He was here. He was working with Draven, and together they were tearing through our enemies like an unstoppable force.
Kane's fire spread faster than I'd expected, licking at the ancient support pillars with unnatural hunger. The magical flames weren't just burning—they were unraveling the enchantments woven into the arena's foundations. Where the fire touched, protective wards began to fail in cascading chains of light and shadow. The entire structure groaned as centuries-old spells collapsed, and I realized with growing horror that Kane's attack had triggered something far bigger than he'd intended.
Draven dropped to his knees beside me, one hand cupping my chin and forcing my gaze to his. His hazel eyes had gone dark, pupils dilated with adrenaline and something deeper—something that made my stomach flutter despite everything.
"I'm getting this collar off!" he shouted over the chaos, voice deadly calm despite the volume. The kind of calm that came before violence.
I nodded, jaw clenched tight because speaking might shatter what little composure I had left. His magic brushed against my skin like warm honey, but immediately recoiled as the collar's defenses flared to life. Dark runes along its surface pulsed with malevolent energy, and I felt him probe more carefully, testing each binding with the precision of a surgeon.
"Layered enchantments," he muttered, sweat beading on his forehead as he worked. "Blood magic, soul bindings, and something else—something older." His jaw clenched as another wave of his power met resistance. "This is going to hurt, love. The collar won't let go easily."
