Page 118 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
I felt it then—like the world itself shifted to make room for me.
A bond slammed into place between us—full and unbreakable—his fire magic poured through my veins until I could no longer tell where I ended and he began. Heat and power roared inside me, violent and alive. I rose, the wounds on my body stitched closed with molten gold light.
I stepped forward, boots crunching on the shattered silver beneath me.I am Elara Valdusian Aetheron. Rightful heir of the Fae thrones.
“It is time, Flameborn,”Misun said, his voice a velvet growl in my mind.
“I know.”
I pushed the door wide. And walked out.
The corridor stretched before me, shadows bending away from my steps. A guard came running down the stairs at a dead sprint, skidding to a halt when his eyes landed on me. His face drained of color.
He fumbled for his bow, nocking an arrow with shaking hands. I lifted my palm. Air magic burst from me in a violent wave, slamming into him with enough force to send his body crashing into the stone wall. The crack of his skull splitting echoed down the corridor, and he crumpled, lifeless, to the floor.
I bent, prying the bow from his slack fingers, “Thanks,” I murmured. I grasped the bow tightly but left the arrows where they fell. I didn’t need them.
I saw the door ahead and knew it led to the cave where Aymon had been keeping Misun. But before I could take a step toward them, the ground convulsed beneath myfeet—a violent, bone-rattling quake that roared through the castle—a beast breaking free of its chains. The walls groaned, ancient stone grinding against stone. Dust rained from the ceiling in thick clouds, torches sputtered and flickered wildly, and somewhere deep within the corridors, shouts of alarm rose, swallowed by the rumble.
Through our bond, I felt it—the precise moment the magic ward shattered, splintering like glass under a hammer. The oppressive weight that had smothered his magic vanished, replaced by a surge of raw, untamed power that slammed into me like a tidal wave. His freedom was mine. I could taste the cold wind rushing past his wings, see the blinding flash of his white scales as they caught the light. And then he was in the sky, roaring his triumph so loudly it seemed to shake the very air around me.
I ran—fast and unbound, my glamour dropped away like the final shred of a lie. My full form blazed in the torchlight, shadows stretched long and jagged as the ground itself seemed to tremble beneath my steps. Every heartbeat was a war drum. Every breath was a battle cry.
I carried the weight of my own truth now, and it burned hotter than any fire I’d ever conjured.
I wasn’t here for mercy.
I wasn’t here for grace.
They had taken from me, broken me, tried to cage me.
They would all pay.
And I was about to fuck. Shit. Up.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I took the stairs two at a time, my hands still slick with blood. My heart thundered, my magic roared in my veins, and the first guard who rounded the landing didn’t even have time to draw breath before I shoved my palm toward him. Flames exploded from my hand, consuming him in an instant. His scream echoed off the stone walls as his armor melted to his skin, the smell of charred flesh choking the air.
I kept running.
Another came at me from the side corridor, sword raised. I slammed my boot into the flagstones, and the earth responded like it had been waiting—jagged spikes erupted from the ground, punching through her chest and lifting her off her feet before the stone swallowed her whole.
Two more appeared ahead. I spread my arms, magic boiling over. The floor heaved beneath them, cracking wide as fire tore through the gap, swallowing them in molten heat. Their shrieks followed me as I tore past, my pace unbroken.
This part of the castle felt wrong. Too pristine, too quiet. Tapestries lined the walls, gold-trimmed sconces holding flames that flickered politely instead of raging. The royal side—I’d never been here before. But instinct carried me, every turn sharper, every step faster, until a set of double doors burst open and the world flooded with light.
I was on a balcony high above the courtyard. The wind whipped my hair into my face, but it didn’t matter.Below, the king and queen stood on a dais, their voices carrying with all the pomp and poison they could muster.
And there—four execution blocks, each with a prisoner kneeling before it with iron cuffs around their necks. Zayn. Makar. Gavrin. Eryndor. Four guards stood behind them, swords poised.
The queen’s lips moved, speaking some empty final words to the crowd.
I didn’t hear them.
I leapt.
For one breathless moment, the wind held me, weightless, untouchable. My stolen bow was already in my hands, the string glowing as fire surged down my arms. I didn’t need arrows. My magic shaped them—shafts of flame burning so hot they hissed against the air.
