Page 7 of The Reckoning of Starlight

He extended one claw, reclaiming the shielding and mending talents that he’d given to the prince. Power sank back into his Well, and his body reshaped around the return. Half elf, half wraith—the form he claimed as his own.

Turquoise waters unfurled below, fractured by islands and crescents of sand. The sea gleamed, vast and endless. Indifferent.

Lykor saw none of it.

His world had narrowed to the seam where sea met sky. To Jassyn somewhere beyond it. Out of reach.

Alive, because Lykor had chosen that truth and would believe nothing else.

He drove his wings harder, punishing the air as if distance were an enemy he could conquer.

White sails pierced the horizon.

Lykor met Vesryn’s eyes. A nod passed between them before they ignited Essence.

Shadows erupted. Fire wreathed Vesryn’s wings in a burning halo as frost sheathed Lykor’s fists. Together, they split the sky, descending on the fleet like a storm.

Smoke reached them before the wreckage fully took shape.

Ships listed half-sunk in the water, hulls cleaved below the surface. Broken masts dragged charred sails through the waves while blackened beams jutted from the surf, carrying the stench of scorched timber, melting pitch, and blistered bodies.

Jassyn. Fenn. Serenna.

They hadn’t gone quietly.

The surviving ships clawed free of the carnage. One, larger than the rest, scarred but seaworthy, sailed beyond the sinking line with soldiers scrambling over the rigging and Essence whirling bright along the rails.

“SECURE THAT LEAD SHIP,” he ordered through the link the prince still had latched between them. “I’LL DESTROY THE OTHERS. NO ONE ESCAPES THROUGH A PORTAL.”

Lykor veered away, circling wide. Nine ships remained around the fleeing vessel, scattered across the water like teeth knocked loose from a jaw.

Not nearly enough lives to sate him.

He wanted to flay answers from every scream. Crack ribs apart with ice and flood their marrow with the sea. Freeze blood in their veins slow enough that they felt the crystals form.

But time was the one thing he couldn’t bleed.

Jassyn waited. Somewhere. Still breathing.

He had to be.

Lykor halted above the fleet, wings thrashing hard enough to jar his spine. Essence rushed up from the vessels, rending and force, bands of power meant to skin him from the sky. He punched shadows outward in a choking surge, veiling himself in darkness.

The attacks disintegrated against his magic before they touched him.

His Well ran deep enough to sustain this for hours.

But he wouldn’t need hours.

Only minutes with Rimeclaw’s gift.

Lykor reached for the sea, past the glittering surface and down into the undertow, where pressure slept in the trenches. He drove his awareness into the ocean floor and wrenched.

The deep groaned as the waves buckled, their crests tipping inward as the sea began to surrender its shape.

He kept the lead ship at the edge of his sight, untouched by the pull. Wreathed in shadow, Vesryn landed on its deck, darkness lashing from his hands to force the crew to their knees.

Across the rest of the fleet, the current tightened slowly at first, snagging the remaining vessels by their keels. Sails snapped taut. Hulls tilted. A splintering crack tore across the fleet as one ship bucked sideways, then another, seized by the churn.