Lines of sapphire light scythe down from the rune skiffs and blow up kraken in great bursts of blue fire as the storm abruptly lessens. A horned, dark-hued winged man launches himself from one of the skiffs and takes flight, a bolt of white lightning streaking from his fists toward one of the sea beasts. The kraken’s head explodes in showers of white sparking fire as thunder booms.

“Here!” I cry out to the rune skiffs in a hoarse voice. “Help! Help me!”

Vogel-kraken’s tentacles pull me underwater and I jerk against his hold, feral in my desperation as passionate urgency shudders through the Wyvernfire blasting through my lines.

Something pale shoots through the water, like an ice spear. It slams into the kraken, impaling its body straight through, a rush of inky blood curling out from the site of impact along with a blast of cold.

The beast’s hold abruptly releases and I swim frantically up and away, dodging its thrashing body. I break through the river’s surface.

Sound assaults me—thunder, people screaming, kraken shrieking. I gasp and choke up river water, everything washed in blue light, gold Wyvernfire sparking in my vision.

There’s a skiff before me, hovering just above the water, a dark figure silhouetted against the skiff’s rune light. The young man’s outline is tall and slender, a wand in his upraised hand, and I’m filled with the sense of vast water power as I struggle to see him through all the gold flashing in my sight.

A Mage. He’s a Mage. But there’s no time to deliberate.

“Help!” I cry. “Please help me!”

The young man sheathes his wand and leans over the side of his skiff.

“Take my hand!” he cries out in Elfhollen.

I’m filled with a sudden, disorienting confusion. That voice. I recognize that voice.

I swim closer and grab hold of the Mage’s outstretched hand.

Lightning flashes and our eyes lock. Recognition explodes within me, the young man briefly illuminated as I blink against the Wyvernfire’s golden sheen. He’s dressed in a vivid blue Noi tunic, a white dragon emblazoned down one side, his blue hair rain-drenched into tousled strands, his green eyes lined with kohl. Black metallic hoops pierce his ears, his eyebrows, his lower lip.

My heart lurches as his eyes focus on me in equally staggered recognition and a burst of his oceanic water power rushes through me.

“Trystan!” I manage to say in a rasping, overjoyed voice as his other hand takes hold of my arm and he pulls me on board.

CHAPTER THREE

DRAGON-MARKED MAGE

Elloren Grey

Vo Mountains, Noilaan
Eastern Realm
Two days prior to Xishlon