Draven Ashborne's Arc

Chapter 6 of 17

Vexmorth swung his tail and Draven took the blow on his shoulder. He staggered but held. The frost-and-fire blade flashed. He drove it at the dragon's throat. Vexmorth twisted away, and the green vapor thickened, pressing at Draven's mind. He fought it down. Seraphina crouched at the wall, pale, her breath shallow. As long as she stayed near, he stayed himself. Seraphina lifted her hands. White cold gathered between her palms. She pulled the heat from the air until it held still. She meant to help him. She flung the frost at Vexmorth's wounded flank. The ice struck. Vexmorth roared and whipped around. His white eyes found her. The magic had marked her as the threat. He lunged past Draven, jaws wide, and raked her across the ribs. Blood darkened her robe. She hit the stone and slid. The cold in the air broke apart. "Seraphina!" Draven reached for her. She pressed a hand to her side. "Don't," she said. "Kill him." But she was too far now. The link snapped. The vapor poured into him, and his dragon form began to slip. Scales cracked. His grip on the blade shook. The corruption clawed for his mind, hungry to make him feral. He looked at her on the ground, one hand red, watching him. He fixed on her face. Not the pain. Her. The woman who had cooled his blood and stayed when others fled. He locked his mind on that. The slip stopped. The scales held. His form snapped firm again, anchored not by her touch but by what he felt for her. Vexmorth turned back, drooling green. "You still stand," the dragon said. Draven raised the blade in both hands. "Not for long." Vexmorth charged. Draven did not move aside. He set his feet and drove the frost-and-fire edge up through the dragon's chest. Ice and flame tore deep. Vexmorth screamed. Green blood sprayed the stone and hissed. Draven wrenched the blade free and struck again, through the throat. The elder dragon shuddered, folded, and went still. The vapor thinned and died. Draven dropped to Seraphina's side. His scales receded as he knelt. His horns and red eyes remained, but the dragon left him. He gathered her against his chest. "I've got you," he said. The antlerwolf padded from the shadows and lowered its wings. Draven lifted Seraphina and climbed onto its back. The creature spread its silver wings and carried them up through the lair, away from the corpse and the dead green fog. They flew until the forest home rose below, warm light in the windows. Draven laid Seraphina on the bed. He crushed frostbloom into water and pressed cloth to her ribs. Her breathing steadied through the night. Near dawn her eyes opened. "You killed him," she said. "He's dead." Draven's hand tightened on hers. The curse that drove them was gone. Now only her wound stood between them and peace.