Page 107 of House of the Iron Reaper

Aythora’s scream makes my ears ring. She releases me and I step back, bracing myself against the arena seating. Her wing dangles like a broken twig held together with cobwebs. Before she can lunge for me again, I snap my wings open and jump.

Rationally, I know I am almost as large as Dragon’s Vale and incomprehensibly heavy. But when I beat my wings, I do not feel the weight. I am no longer a child, sinking through the air. I am both the cloud and the wind, pushing myself higher with all the effort of a gentle breath.

The loose sand of the arena grounds blow in a gust as I lift off. I go higher and higher again. Aythora roars, unable to follow me, her broken wing hanging uselessly at her side.

Lightning is a necessary and vital part of the natural world.

I go higher.

You are not destruction.

And higher.

You are power.

When I reach the apex, Dragon’s Vale looks like a toy city beneath me, a volcano bubbling on top of it. I stop flying and tip backwards and there’s a moment where I’m floating.

Dragons are shapeshifters. But I am not just a dragon—I am Ascended. And I am the storm manifest.

Power zaps through my body, each muscle and bone and ligament arranging and rearranging into something new.

When a dragon breathes lightning, it does not make a sound.

When a dragon is lightning…

I strike Aythora from the sky like a javelin sent from the Saints and the sound rattles the realm.

Chapter 64

Novalie

Aythora explodes.

My mother and I get blown back into the tunnel by the force of it, the crack of lightning enough to nearly blind and deafen me. Volcanic rock streams through the sky and I roll onto all fours, coughing out sand and vaporised rock.

Blinking, I try to orient myself, ears ringing. I see the shape of my mother several feet away from me and crawl over.

“Are you a-alright?” I wheeze. She groans loudly but nods.

I hastily check Lysandra but her chest rises and falls softly and I exhale in relief.

Maybe I should not have told Deyanara not to hold back. But I was unaware she could turn into fucking lightning.

I get shakily to my feet, feeling like I’m walking on sticks rather than legs, and step out of the tunnel. Where Aythora stood, Deyanara now stands, back to her regular size, utterly naked but for the doomkin’s blood still coating her skin. The loose sand around her has turned to glass. Aythora’s blood surrounds her like an explosion of red paint with her at the centre.

I stop and stare. She turns and looks back at me. Her eyes blaze gold.

“Dey?” I croak around the sand in my throat.

Deyanara takes one step and falls to her knees.

Shit. I take off at a sprint. My legs threaten to give way but I ignore them. I do not stop until I reach her.

“Are you alright?” My words come out more like a sob. My knees crumble as I kneel in front of her.

“Is everyone else okay?” Deyanara asks instead of answering me. “Is the city safe?”

I breathe out a shaky breath and cup her scarred jaw. Her golden eyes dim, making way for the soft grey eyes I know. The storm quietens. Truthfully, I do not know what damage it caused, not without looking for myself. But I do know Cahir.