Esadora leaned against the doorframe, lips pursed in tight disapproval. She watched as magic hummed, strands of copper laced with gold, chasing flits of shadow in black and blue. It shimmered, ensconcing the Lat’Nemele in its essence. They lay cocooned in shared slumber, twitching against dreams, oblivious to her presence.

She pushed off with a brooding sigh, quietly crossing the room to stand over them. Nerys’ arm tightened around Calyx as if she sensed they were under scrutiny, and Calyx murmured, pressing her head deeper into the protective curve of Nerys’ shoulder. The magic brightened, and Esadora reached out to touch it. It solidified beneath her fingertips, and her mouth rounded in surprise.

There were few magics she wasn't immune to.

She tried again, pressing harder, but the intrinsic shield hummed a warning. She withdrew, astonished. The twitching magic calmed, resuming its soft undulations.

“Extraordinary,” Esadora whispered.

She looked at them with new eyes, their sun and shadow intertwined, and wondered.

But she shook herself. It didn’t matter, anyway – they could have their moment, it would make no difference when the world ended. And that eventuality was drawing closer by the day. Restlessness took her, and she decided some fresh air would do her good. It had been a long time since she’d had to worry about unruly magics, and the future of Andoherra. She didn’t want to think about it anymore – Sorceresses and dying worlds be damned.

She would take Jordan home, back to Earth, where it was safe and simple.

The silk of her skirts swished as she spun for the door, and she didn’t look back as she left. Unerring feet carried her to the entrance hall, and a wave of magic sprung the doors wide. Possessed by restive energy, she swept out into the snow, revelling in the crisp caress of the night air on her skin. Her magic rose within, warming her, and she spread her arms to embrace it. She brought them down, hard. Wings, blooming from between her shoulder blades, mirrored the movement. She was airborne before she’d even finished transforming, and the kiss of winter tingled through her scales as they rippled into place. Wrapped in dragonhide, she felt nothing, feared nothing. Her roar echoed across the mountains.

Strong wingbeats bore her upwards, beyond the peaks, into the dark, boundless sky. Above, winking stars bore witness to her passage. She banked, dropping down, down, only to rise up once more. She glided for moments – for aeons – but, at last, turned her back on the powerful call of freedom. Thoughts of Jordan beckoned her home. In perfect silence, she glided across the large meadow in front of Queenhaven, dipping low over the glistening sea of snow. Worldkin did not long taste the nectar of freedom; duty always hovered at the door. Something she wished Jordan to avoid – it was time to plan their escape to Earth.

She snorted in surprise as something stung her beneath her belly, and craned her long neck to see what it was. A wave of dizziness drowned her senses; she faltered, losing altitude. Then, like the ocean drawing out before a tsunami, her magic abandoned her. With a wild cry, she crashed to earth in a flurry of snow, carving a deep, narrowing path as she slid to a halt. The cold bit at her, mere human flesh no barrier to frosted teeth as dragon scales faded. Unnerved, she summoned her magic, but met only an empty abyss.

Pain shot through her – another savage sting behind her shoulder, one in her side. She clutched at them, crying out, and met with the wet warmth of her own blood as it escaped to silver the snow. She tugged violently at the one she could reach, tearing it free, shredding her fingers on wicked spines. Trembling, she held it up. Her heart dropped as she recognised the seven-sided throwing weapon, pearlescent beneath the shine of her blood.

A Soulstar.

Beneath her slippery fingers, she could feel her own magic, trapped within it. Numb, she raised her gaze to the shadowed figures closing in, and knew she was lost.