My emotions splintering, I half feel the gray magic seeping back into my fastlines while I plummet toward then crash through the river’s demon tide. Shadowy magic slithers around my lines and the fearsome thought connects—Sweet Ancient One. Vogel survived.

The vicious urge to fight sparks, spiraling through me as I’m enveloped in the Shadow tide’s gray smoke. Gold blasts to life through the darkness above as the Wyvernfire reaches the tide’s surface and courses toward me.

“No!” I cry out in futile protest, clear I’ll never survive the fiery blow.

Strong arms slap around my body from behind and I startle, a muscular chest slamming against my back. The abrupt halt to my descent clamps my jaw shut so hard pain shards through my teeth, a powerful aura of golden Wyvernfire rushing through me as I’m yanked sideways with blurring speed.

Yvan!

But...how?

Bolts of Wyvernfire slam into the space I just occupied, the gold fire obscured by the churning smoke as I’m raced away through the Shadow tide. I struggle to catch my breath while Yvan’s grip tightens around me, the heat of his fire aura sweeping through me as we fly like an arrow loosed and I’m thunderstruck by astonishment.

How did he survive?

Pivoting upward, we burst through the surface of the Shadow, and I catch a glimpse of the battle raging, Naga’s Wyverns and surviving Vu Trin slashing through Vogel’s forces throughout the Shadow-riddled sky.

A harsh, scuffing wind blasts over the battle scene, clearing the air. Breathless and grief-dazed, I spot Trystan on the back of a lightning-covered dragon, wand raised, the two of them taking out Mage after Mage with bolts of blue and silver lightning. A white streak speeds past him from the direction of the decimated mountains, and I pray that it’s Raz’zor with Or’myr and Sparrow on his back.

And then Naga sweeps into view, flying up from the Shadow tide, a young, red-haired Icaral male gripped in her talons, his body hanging limp, his wings shredded to dark ribbons.

Yvan!

My mind reels, fright blasting to life as I’m sped away from the chaos. Away from Yvan.

Because if that’s Yvan...then who’s holding me?

I twist in the stranger’s muscular grip, straining to see.

“Hold still, Black Witch!” a startlingly familiar voice snarls. The grip around me tightens, a small raven closing in beside us as I force my head around as far as I can.

Shock explodes. “Ariel!” I rasp out.

Ariel Haven.

Her glossy black wings beating down on the air.

Ariel.

Not dead at all.

But powerfully alive.

CHAPTER FIVE

WYVERN WINGS

Elloren Vogel

Vo Forest