He’s almost otherworldly in how striking he is—tall and stunningly fit, his hue black as a starless night sky, his ears pointed, horns gleaming. His spiky onyx hair is tipped in silver, bright threads of lightning pulsing over his scandalously bare chest. But it’s his eyes that I can’t tear my gaze from—his irises are a mesmerizing, lightning-charged black, positively flashing with storming power.

The shifter doesn’t notice me, his intensifying water and wind auras rushing so intensely toward my brother I pull in a wavering breath. He stops a few handspans from Trystan, their combined elemental auras lashing around each other like they’re caught in a raging storm.

“Vothe,” my brother says, a cautionary edge to his voice.

“I thought the second wave of kraken struck you down,” the horned man cuts him off in Noi, his tone harsh with accusation, his deep voice strongly accented. “I flew over the mountains. Searching for you everywhere.”

My heart thuds harder as I ready my blade.

“I’m fine,” Trystan says a trace raggedly as the shifter continues to ignore me.

“Were you planning on finding me sometime this eve?” Vothe bites out.

“Eventually,” Trystan hedges.

Vothe steps toward Trystan, lightning spitting through his power. “How am I supposed to guard you if you purposefully elude me?”

Trystan’s voice is cool when it comes. “Is that what you’re doing, Vothe? Guarding me? It’s a bit of a ruse at this point, wouldn’t you say?” Power crackles even more intensely in the air between them, and for a moment, Vothe doesn’t answer.

“I thought...” Vothe breaks off as visible threads of his lightning arc around my brother. An expression of impassioned worry overtakes his expression, his voice rough when it comes. “When the second swarm of kraken came in...and I couldn’t find you... I thought something happened to you.”

Oh, Sweet Ancient One, I realize in one dizzying sweep. Are they in love?

My brother’s power shifts, still lashing around Vothe, but its edges are forcefully straining away from me. As if willing Vothe to remain unaware of my presence.

My breath tightens in my throat.

“I’m a Level Five Mage, Vothe,” Trystan remarks sharply. “I can handle a few kraken.”

Now they’re throwing invisible lightning toward each other so hard that white sparks through my vision while another aura of distinctive flame suddenly overtakes my lines—

Golden fire and then a streak of vermilion fire, blazing like a torch.

I gasp, Vothe’s and Trystan’s lightning in my sight blasted back by all the Wyvernfire streaming in, purple sparks crackling through it. My eyes widen with recognition. I know that vermilion fire as well as I know the golden blaze, even though the purple sparks are new to it.

It’s Raz’zor’s, the small dragon who pledged fealty to me.