Chapter Two The East

Chapter Two The East

Elloren Guryev

Eastern Realm

I watch with mounting horror as the Vu Trin storm band rises from the Vo Mountain Range’s apex. A contingent of close to twenty

Vu Trin soldiers are flying toward us, the line of blue-glowing Noi runes inside the storm band increasingly obscured as its

winds gain strength.

“The Noi runes embedded in that storm band,” Sylvan spits out, eyes crackling with outrage as he watches it like a mortal

enemy, “they hold enough Nature-siphoning power to consume the elemental magic in our shielding as well as the Zonor River and Dyoi Forest, which will unshield the East and trigger a complete Unbalancing .”

“And a full Death Reckoning,” Hazel hisses, the look of alarm in his abyssal eyes terrifying to behold, my uncle Wrenfir’s

fiery aura whipping into a desperate embrace around the Death Fae Dryad.

My power empathy can sense, beyond a shadow of doubt, that they’re right. For a moment, fear tears at me so intensely, I feel

as if my heart will rip from my chest and fly into the threatened Dyoi Forest and Zonor River, sheer desperation overtaking

me as I dismount from Errilith.

Yvan’s hand closes protectively around my arm, his fire shuddering through the spitfire chaos of my power as I reach for the

branch sheathed at my waist.

“Careful, Elloren,” he warns.

Raz’zor’s seething voice simmers through me, red-hot battle-fire running steadily through it. Conserve your magic, Dryad Witch.

“We need to strike that damned storm band from the skies,” Vothe seethes, both his eyes and those of the elderly Wyvern woman beside him incandescent with lightning.

“We will not let them take our river !” Trystan snarls.

I’m instantly snapped into a shocked calm by my younger brother’s loss of composure, a maelstrom of rebellious energy crackling

through his magic. The irony hits me—Trystan has always been the cool and collected one. The last time I had to calm him down

was when he was a small child, afraid of thunder, and now my brother is mated to a storm Wyvern, the two of them able to conjure

their own formidable lightning and cloud-ripping tempests.

“We can’t war with them,” I caution Trystan, regaining my senses as peals of thunder roll through the gathering tempest. “We’ll

deplete our power even further. We’re good as dead if we do that, with Fallon’s Shadow winter looming.”

“Elloren’s right,” Yvan grimly agrees, meeting Vothe’s and Trystan’s martial stares with one of his own. “We have to align with them .”

My gaze slides back to the incoming Vu Trin as Yvan takes my hand. His Wyvern-warm grip closing around mine fires up our bond.

Our eyes meet in a flash of heat, the surge of warmth enabling me to draw in a stream of his steadying power as the incoming

Vu Trin soldiers slow to a hover above the Zonor’s lightning-coated shielding. Two of them, in full dragon form, break away

from the rest to soar in closer. White lightning forks over the Wyverns’ onyx scales, one of them carrying a spike-haired

Vu Trin soldier with a sturdy build, the woman wearing the same silver dragon-horn headpiece that adorns Vang Troi’s head.

Recognition hits, and I blanche.

The full attention of Yvan’s fire snaps through my fire. “What’s the matter, Elloren?” he presses, his violet eyes burning

into mine.

“I know that sorceress,” I answer. “She’s the one who tried to kill me months ago in the Agolith Desert. Then again in Voloi.”

“Her name is Quoi Zhon,” Vang Troi states, her sapphire aura of power intensifying.

Rivyr’el spits out a bitter laugh as he shoots Vang Troi a jaded look. “Well, it seems you’ve been replaced as high commander of the Vu Trin.” His prism eyes flash toward me. “And you’ve picked a rather inconvenient choice of enemy.”

“That’s my father, Hizar’drile, and brother, Gethindrile, with her,” Vothe growls, the angst shooting through his power only

increasing my concern.

“We seek an alliance with you!” Vang Troi booms out to Quoi Zhon and Vothe’s father and brother before cutting a severe glare toward Trystan. “Let them in.”

Trystan shoots Vang Troi a belligerent look but complies with her order. He raises his branch toward the shielding and grits

out a spell, and a small hole opens.

The two Wyverns and Quoi Zhon fly in and they land before us. Quoi Zhon’s compact form deftly slides off the larger Wyvern’s

back, her dark eyes meeting mine with a formidable flash of loathing. Vothe’s father and brother swiftly morph to their human

winged forms, a straight-backed older male and a younger male who looks to be close to Vothe’s age. Quoi Zhon and the Wyverns

all wear the same Vo’lon faith necklace that graces Trystan’s neck, an image of the dragon goddess, Vo, carved into each necklace’s

central ivory bead. Both Wyverns’ eyes pulse with furious white lightning as they take me in, and I note how strongly Vothe

resembles not just them but the elderly Wyvern woman with the gold lightning-spitting eyes allied with him and Trystan, all

four Wyverns possessing the same elegant features and tall, muscular builds.

“Father.” Vothe greets the older male warily. His gaze swings to his brother. “Geth,” he says, his tone clipped and cautious

as his invisible power whorls around Trystan.

Visible threads of lightning fork from the two Wyverns’ forms as Hizar’drile and Gethindrile shoot glares at Trystan, then

at the elderly Wyvern woman, who bares her teeth in response.

A mist of sapphire power springs to life around Quoi Zhon, strong enough to rival the strength of Vang Troi’s. “Vang Troi,”

Quoi Zhon snarls, pointedly omitting “Nor,” the Noi title of respect, her hands gripping the hilts of the runic swords sheathed

at her sides. “Why are you here with the Crow Witch? The witch you set out to slay .”

Anger at the slur flashes through Yvan’s fire, but he keeps it in check as a harder tang of sapphire power shivers into being

around Vang Troi, bright as suspended flame, her expression taking a turn for the lethal. “I am here because our Dryad’khin

force brings vital news to the East. This fight is not what we thought it was. And remaining ignorant of its true nature will ensure the downfall

of the entire Eastern Realm along with the entirety of Erthia!”

“Wait,” Quoi Zhon sharply bites out. “Your ‘Dryad’khin force’? Who exactly are you aligned with?”

“With the Natural Matrix of Erthia,” Vang Troi answers.

Naga morphs to human, her dark, powerful wings snapping emphatically out. “That must be the center of our new alliance, Unbroken Ones,” she hisses, her golden wildfire eyes burning into Quoi Zhon and the Wyverns

bracketing her. “Above every country and Realm.”

“If you release that storm band,” Sylvan adds as he levels his deep-green finger toward it, “you will bring the Natural World

to the precipice of complete annihilation .”

“What is this Fae nonsense?” Quoi Zhon demands of Vang Troi.

“You cannot send out this storm band,” Vang Troi commands in turn. “It will play right into Vogel’s hands.”

“Words do not suffice to describe the danger,” Queen Freyja Zyrr chimes in. “We implore you, Nor Quoi Zhon, to connect with

the Forest and hear the trees out.”

Quoi Zhon shoots Freyja an incredulous glare. “The trees ? Have you all gone mad ?” She levels a condemning finger at me. “Has the Crow Witch ensorcelled you and the Icaral both?”

Yvan’s anger flashes bright through our bond. “No one has ensorcelled me,” he bites out, as my own protest rises, hot and

harsh.

“I’m not a Crow Witch,” I emphatically level at Quoi Zhon. “I’m a Dryad Witch. And I fight for Erthia and everyone here, not the cursed Magedom.”

Hate flashes in Quoi Zhon’s eyes as the auras of both Vothe’s father and brother crackle invisible lightning daggers at me.

Hizar’drile’s gaze swings to Vothe. “You stand by and let this witch live ?” he hisses. “Have you forgotten she nearly destroyed all of Voloi a little over a month ago?” He thrusts a damning, black-clawed

finger toward Trystan. “And then, you take this Crow filth, the brother of this witch , as your mate ?”

Hurt crackles through Trystan’s power—hurt that I know Vothe can sense. Vothe lets out a low growl, his power flashing embracingly

around Trystan.

Rivyr’el lets out an incredulous huff from beside me, then reaches up to massage his porcelain-pale temple as he shoots me

a tight look. “You Gardners certainly have a penchant for Realm-upending romance.”

I glance toward Rafe and Diana, then toward Wrenfir and Hazel, who are eyeing Vothe’s father and brother and Quoi Zhon with

deathlike calm, their arms slung defiantly over each other’s shoulders along with Hazel’s misty, looping Darkness, a sharp

headache starting to pound against my temples.

Vothe is unmoved, threads of his power now visibly crackling around Trystan as he stares his father down. “Elloren was ensorcelled by Marcus Vogel when she attacked Voloi. Read her , Father. Do you sense a threat?”

Vothe’s father and brother glare at me, nostrils flaring. The energy of confusion forks through their power as they struggle

to unearth some shred of treachery.

And find none.

Yulan steps forward with her heron, heartbreaking concern in the graceful Tree Fae’s eyes. “We Dryad’khin stand ready to fight

for both the Forests and the people of the Eastern Realm.”

Quoi Zhon looks Yulan disdainfully up and down. “We don’t need you in our fight, Dryad. Noilaan is for the Noi . We’re reclaiming the East and walling off what the West has wrought with our own storm power!”

Shock blasts through my bond to Yvan, as well as through my entire horde’s fire and my allies’ magic, in response to Quoi

Zhon’s xenophobic line in the sand, the ramifications dire.

“You can’t wall off what’s coming by yourselves!” Vang Troi insists.

Quoi Zhon shoots her a look of blistering disgust. “Don’t tell us what we can and can’t do, vill’duur .”

The koi’lon rune Valasca marked behind my ear translates the Noi word— traitor .

The whole world briefly pulses Dark.

“Nature doesn’t acknowledge your boundaries,” Hazel seethes, his subterranean voice shot through with a terrifying aura of

warning, a hissing viper appearing around his shoulders. “Nature mocks them. Death mocks them. You think your walls can keep me and my Deathkin out if you force a Reckoning ? You think you can wall out the Shadow Void when it comes for you? The only way to avoid a Reckoning and defeat the Shadow

is by standing together. Right now. Aligned with the Forest .”

Quoi Zhon flashes Hazel a rattled look before she turns to Yvan, her expression tilting toward hesitant. “Nor Yvan Guryev,”

she says, “ break with this witch and this madness. The Prophecy still speaks of your rise.”

Yvan’s invisible fire simply roars more passionately around me. “Elloren and I reject your Prophecy readings. We are united

and bound by Wyvernfire as mates.”

Shocked sounds burst from Quoi Zhon, Hizar’drile, and Gethindrile.

“She is not your full mate,” Hizar’drile spears out. “I scent only a partial bond, not a consummated mating. Cast this witch aside! You

are fated to war with her!”

“Fallon Bane is the Black Witch poised at the East’s doorstep,” Yvan hisses. “She’s the witch we need to align against.”

“Nor Quoi Zhon,” Mavrik petitions from where he stands beside Gwynn, their golden-fastmarked hands joined in a tight clasp, “you know of my work for the Vu Trin. Our stated aim to forge a unified force with the East is a true one .”

“Enough,” Quoi Zhon snaps with a venomous glare. “I suspected you were a traitor all along, Glass. A Crow never changes its feathers.”

“Well, I am not a Crow.” Yvan’s mother’s voice rings out.

We all turn as Soleiya makes her way forward, eyes afire. Quoi Zhon, Vothe’s father and brother—their eyes all widen at the

sight of her, their powerful auras rearing with shocked energy.

“Nor Soleiya Guryev,” Quoi Zhon murmurs, dipping her head in a reverential greeting.

Soleiya regally lifts her chin, her invisible fire whipping around Yvan and me with a passionate, embracing force. “Nor Quoi

Zhon. Nors Hizar’drile and Gethindrile Xanthile,” she formally greets them. “You all know of my sacrifice at the end of the

First Realm War.” Her face tenses with a look of grief, a slight tremor to her words when they come. “You know how my husband,

Valentin Guryev, sacrificed his life to save the East from the Black Witch’s reign of fire. And how I have labored and fought

with the Western Realm Resistance for years .”

Both Yvan’s invisible fire and mine blaze around her, and Soleiya gives us both a poignant glance before turning back to Quoi

Zhon, Hizar’drile, and Gethindrile. “At first,” she says, “I, too, wanted nothing more than to strike Elloren down. But then

I listened to my son, and I listened to the trees. And finally, I listened to Elloren. She is truly not the Black Witch we

need to fight. She is now Elloren Guryev. My ally and kin. As are all of these Dryad’khin.” She sweeps her hand toward both me and all our allies.

Quoi Zhon’s and the Wyverns’ reverential looks careen into sheer outrage, but Soleiya remains undaunted. “If you siphon up the elemental power of the Dyoi Forest and Zonor River with your storm band,” she warns, “you will bring

such damage to Erthia’s Natural Matrix you will not only destroy our Dryad’khin power but bring about the destruction of your

own, as well. I beg of you, in the name of my husband, Valentin Guryev, the Great Icaral who died for the East—let us speak to the leaders of

the East before you do this thing and tip Nature’s Balance toward the Shadow’s triumph.”

I hold my breath, my pulse tripping over itself as Quoi Zhon and the Wyverns exchange conflicted glances.

Quoi Zhon straightens, her gaze shifting to Gethindrile. “Send word to our aligned forces to hold back our storm band,” she orders. “We will escort Soleiya Guryev, the Great Icaral, and their allies to Noilaan’s Vo Conclave. All of you will come, including the witch, who will travel there, unarmed, with me . Or we will release our storm band as planned.”

Yvan’s invisible flame turns incandescent as a protest rises in my throat over the thought of being brought to a hostile Wyvernguard,

unarmed, but I squelch it. Given what transpired the last time I was in Voloi, this is my only way back. I sense the same

line of thought warring through Yvan before settling into a low seethe.

“I’ll be on Elloren’s heels all the way to Voloi,” Yvan states, warning in his tone. My surrounding Errilor Ravens step toward

Quoi Zhon in a warning of their own.

Quoi Zhon eyes Yvan and my ravens before nodding, her gaze then swinging to Soleiya. “When we get to Voloi, you can tell the

Conclave what you know of Vogel and his Shadow and the Black Witch.” Her eyes briefly cut toward mine, a hard glint in them

that raises my every hackle, before she turns back to Soleiya. “Make your petition, Soleiya Guryev. And see for yourself if

you can get the East to align with the Crow Witch, these Westerners, and the trees.”