“Where is she?” Olilly thinks aloud as the pale dragon speeds toward Voloi in a white, curving blur.

“Where is who?” Nym’ellia asks.

Olilly turns to her, the words feeling explosive on her tongue. “The Black Witch.”

Nym’ellia’s green-glimmering face tenses. “What do you mean, the Black Witch?”

“She’s here,” Olilly replies, pulse accelerating. “In Noi lands.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

WAR

Elloren Grey

Xishlon night, twenty-second hour

Raz’zor lands on Or’myr’s balcony with a resounding thud, his churning red-and-purple Wyvernfire aura blasting through my lines, the violet rune Or’myr placed on his neck’s base glowing bright.

He sets his red fire-eyes on me as explosions detonate across the collapsing city, nausea filling me over the horror of it. Raz’zor’s gaze swings to the wands bunched in my fist and the Shadow smoke rising from my fastlines, then swiftly toward my glowing gray eyes. The turbulent flow of my fire intensifies, Vogel’s branching power tightening around my lines.

Grimly cognizant of my ever-closing window of free will, I grasp Raz’zor’s powerful, ivory-scaled forearm and open my mind to him. For a stretched-out second Raz’zor stills, horned-head lowering, lava-red eyes unblinking on mine as his empathic mind reads it all—the demonic power ensnaring my lines. Lukas’s possession.

How the Wand left me.

And how my sole chance to fight back and save Lukas and the East with Black Witch power is before me.

A blast of Yvan’s Wyvernfire abruptly sears through my lines, so much stronger than Raz’zor’s, and my heart tightens against the idea of Yvan sensing my peril and flying to my aid.

Will you fight with me? I ask Raz’zor as I force back the anguish and embrace the terrible power that was my destiny all along.

Scarlet fire intensifies in Raz’zor’s eyes and he sends one overpowering thought to me with murderous force.

Death to Vogel.

With that one thought and the hatred oceaning around it, Raz’zor flattens himself against the terrace’s floor and fans out his wings in silent invitation.

I’m going to blow up the mountain, rescue Lukas, and destroy Vogel’s forces, I warn him, gray fire lashing through my vision. There’s a risk I’ll blow us up along with them.

Raz’zor throws out the next thought with such vehemence that I’m almost propelled backward by the heat in it.

Death. To. Vogel.

“All right,” I say, our joint ferocity blooming hot in my breast. “We kill him. But... Raz’zor...” Our joint flame ratchets up, as if he can sense what I’m about to say, my heart knotting against it. “If he fully turns me, you need to kill me.”

A scorchingly pained look, and then a blast of fervid affirmation heats our fire.