Chapter Thirty-Three WITCHING MOON

Chapter Thirty-Three

WITCHING MOON

Week Three, Day One

Year 3000

The world was screaming.

Ash twisted into a dive, ignoring the fiery agony of ragged claw marks on his shoulder, even though the wound turned every movement of his left wing into sheer torture. A jagged mountain peak spun up at him, and he longed to alight on that rocky outcropping and thrust his power deep into the earth, to soothe it and promise that everything would be fine.

Nothing was fine.

The storm of power around the castle tower had become a veritable whirlpool, dragging hope and color and life from the land in all directions. Instead, the maelstrom funneled it toward the familiar enemy who stood atop his stolen tower, triumphant in anticipation of his impending victory.

The Betrayer didn't care that whatever he'd done had rent asunder the natural rhythms of the world. That the dark clouds gathering above them were unnatural, that the winds buffeting Ash as he flared his wings wide at the last moment and flung himself skyward were growing more and more destructive.

Behind him, the blue dragon that had been tailing him missed the turn and crashed into the mountain peak. Ash hoped for a moment to catch his breath, but lightning crashed out of the sky and arced toward him. He tucked his wings close and turned, feeling the forked heat crackle over his back.

Too close. He didn't know if the attack had come from the other dragon or the furious sky. Dianthe wasn't here to calm the storms. He'd have to hope the wind held some fondness for the Siren's oldest friend, even this far from her touch.

Ash broke free of a dark cloud and soared over the tower. A roar tore out of him at the sight below—a cruel-looking woman holding Sachi on her knees with a punishing grip on her hair. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to dive for the tower, to shred her captor into tiny pieces and burn the Betrayer where he stood.

No no no no no.

Even without his feet touching the ground, the howl of the earth's fear rose through Ash. The mountains rumbled in warning. Ash and the Betrayer had almost destroyed the world before, and there had only been a fraction of this much power in play.

A direct confrontation between gods could not be the solution. That was why Sachi and Zanya were here, wasn't it? The Everlasting Dream and the Endless Void, powers that transcended even those of the High Court. They could fight the Betrayer in a different way. They had to.

Talons shredded Ash's back. He folded his wings and nosedived again, but the blue dragon was on his back, barely visible out of the corners of his eyes. Claws dug deeper, into muscle, and Ash couldn't reach him to bellow fire at him.

But he was the Lord of Fire. It answered wherever he called. It cascaded from him in a wave, and the dragon clinging to his back screeched as the scent of scorched flesh filled the air. With the other dragon's weight suddenly gone, Ash checked his dive and turned on one wing.

There, nearing the top of the tower, was a small figure in familiar black armor. Zanya clung to the stone as the entire valley shook again, then continued her determined climb.

Ash flared his wings wide and vaulted skyward, drawing the other dragon's attention before it could see the small figure making her way up the wall. If anything could hope to contain that bloated power stolen from the Dream, it was the touch of someone born of the Void. And if anyone could find a way to undo what the Betrayer had done, surely it was the Dream herself.

The Dragon's consort will break the Builder's chains, and the people will dream again.

This was the moment he'd waited three thousand years for, but it wasn't his battle. His duty was to give them time, to trust them to be what they were—strong, fierce. Glorious.

Heroes.

Roaring his challenge to both dragons, Ash spiraled upward, leaving his heart behind on a trembling tower with the power-mad enemy he'd once called brother.

And he believed.