We soar up over the Vo Forest and I narrow my gaze in Vogel’s direction as another swarm of Mages on dragonback pour out of the mountain’s gash, zooming toward us. My pulse quickens as I sense Raz’zor struggling to restore his still-depleted power while Or’myr draws in gasping breaths, frantically pulling on the purple-hued magic trapped in his center.

My heart in my throat, I raise my wands, readying my attack and praying Lukas survives it...as the mammoth horde zooms past us, soaring toward Voloi.

Astonishment lashes through me as I’m flooded by wave upon wave of the Mages’ corrupted Shadow affinities as they soar past, dazed by their powerful auras of dark fog, dead branches, writhing vines, and grayed ice and fire.

My Black Witch.

My affinity lines give a violent jostle forward, a rasp torn from my lungs as I’ve the bloodcurdling sensation of Vogel fisting hold of my lines and wrenching them toward the Vo Mountains.

And then I spot him.

A tiny figure, garbed in Mage black, stands in the center of a stony ledge at the base of the mountaintop’s long crater. Mages on dragons stream out to either side of him, along with the Shadow tide and rising Shadow veil, Vogel poised in the center of it all, as if he’s cleared a space for us. As if he’s cleared a space for me.

Elloren.

My fist tightens around my wands in response to his smooth voice in my head. Raz’zor accelerates toward him, my power surging as my mind empties itself of all but one bright lethal thought—Bring Vogel down. Gritting my teeth, I arc back my wand hand—then pause midspell, a surge of horror igniting as not only Lukas’s bound form is dragged onto the ledge by two Shadow Mages...but Sparrow Trillium’s, as well.

My chest constricts with emotion as I take in Sparrow’s struggling, grayed form, my pulse slamming with a painful intensity, clear that Lukas would survive my inferno, but it would incinerate Sparrow. As if sensing my panicked indecision, Raz’zor frantically throws his wings out as the world blips out of sight, replaced by a dark, murky haze.

Raz’zor struggles to slow us, wings flapping in the dark while I blink against the haze’s sudden sting in my eyes, desperate to locate Lukas and Sparrow as I cough against the vapor’s acrid taste. Raz’zor angles his flight pattern straight up, perhaps in an attempt to burst through the top of the blinding Shadow, but there’s seemingly no end to it.