Vothe’s whole body gives a sudden, violent shudder. Concerned, I look to him, his eyes clamping tightly shut as every one of his muscles tense, his skin flashing silver lightning like it’s been hit by a wave of power that’s much stronger than his internal storm.

His eyes snap back open, raw horror in them. “Get that barrier up, Heelyn!” he snarls, lightning crackling over his skin. “The time for division is over! Get the barrier up right now!”

I reach for my wand. “Vothe...what...”

His gaze swings to mine, stark pain flashing through it that both silences me and sends a chill down my spine. “Trystan,” he says, “the Prophecy...it’s here. Vogel’s taken control of your sister.”

CHAPTER FOUR

ICARAL OF PROPHECY

Elloren Vogel

Over the Vo River

Yvan, no! I mentally scream as he fights his way toward me over the river, blasting through Mages and their dragons, his body trailing Wyvernfire through the ghoulish night.

Horror mounting, I soar toward Yvan with Vogel’s horde, a chill wind whipping against my shielded form as heavily outnumbered Vu Trin do battle against the Mage forces and are mercilessly cut down from the sky in explosions of silver-gray light.

Bucking and writhing against Vogel’s hold over my body, I watch as Yvan advances, hurling fireball after fireball. His gold-glowing eyes come into view and my desperation intensifies, his gaze two fiery stars, set tight on me. Vogel’s malefic excitement shivers through me, the poisonous thought darting through my mind—

Come closer, Beast.

It’s a trap! I try in vain to scream to Yvan, my wand hand sizzling hot with a catastrophic level of power.

Yvan throws out a great arc of Wyvernfire, lighting up the grayed night as Mages are incinerated. But still, Vogel stays my wand hand, the feel of his presence inside me enlarging, my lungs hot and tight as he gathers my power.

Three huge Noi runes suddenly burst into being above Voloi’s riverbank, shot through with blue lightning. A churning wall of storm roars out of the runes, and I startle as a great stormwall forms along Voloi’s coast, Yvan’s flash of mutual surprise hitting me from clear across the expanse between us.

The stormwall surges skyward, the magic at play so powerful I can feel its bright-energy tang from clear across the river, as well as a distinctive Mage energy suffusing it.

Trystan’s.

Fear strikes with the force of a hammer to anvil. Because I know, beyond any doubt, that this power building inside me dwarfs any stormwall my brother and his allies can conjure.

Vogel’s brutal delight surges. Sending a command through his Shadow tether, he forces both me and his Shadow horde to slow until we’re hovering in midair as one.