Dawn of Ash (37 page)

A jolt of pressure rippled up my spine, the once peaceful hospital emerging around me as the stutter fell away to a room engulfed in flames of red and orange, painful tongues of fire lapping against the people as they screamed, as death tried to take them.

The powerful shield I had covered myself with was barely enough to keep the fire from consuming me. The burn tried to move into me as smoke filled my nostrils. Clothing and hair were burned away, the pungent aroma adding to the rancid smell of death that already filled the space.

The heat was drowning, their screams deafening, the sounds violent. I tensed in one brief moment of fear before turning toward the door. The old, wooden slab was obviously locked in place by a powerful spell. Some of the Chosen were cluttered around it, clawing at the only exit in desperation.

“Move!” I screamed through the flames, not even giving them a chance to hear my command before my hand pressed against the air in front of me, sweeping them to the side in one quick move.

Screams of surprise mixed with those of panic. My heart raced as my magic flexed with a jolt so powerful I expected it to hurt. The deep Drak magic wrapped them in a shield, my hand remaining over them, keeping them in place.

My heart roared in a calm thunder, my magic a torrent of force as it spun around me, gaining momentum and power before I pressed my other hand in the air. Sparks of green and grey broke off from the whirlwind I was surrounded by, slamming into the wooden door.

The pulse was weaker than I knew would be needed to break through whatever was holding the door in place, but strong enough to seep into the oak, lighting the hallway opposite and giving enough warning to those on the other side to move away.

I hoped it was enough, that Ilyan had taken my command to heart and that he wasn’t still sitting on our bed in confusion. I didn’t have time to wait. I didn’t have time to check. People were dying.

My magic continued to move, swirling and building as my hair whipped over my face, the long, golden ribbon dancing gracefully through smoke and ash.

Terror soaked into me, igniting my own dread for the first time since I had appeared in the room. I let the fear grip me. I let myself feel it. I let it fuel me. Then, pressing my hand toward the door, I released the powerful jets of magic in one quick flux.

With a boom like a gun, the magic moved away in a violent ribbon of the brightest red. The attack smashed against the door in a blast that shook the cathedral. The heavy oak door shattered, splinters flying through the air as the rafters shook, tiny pieces of roof falling down on top of us.

The screams of those within the flames mixed with those desperate to save them in a terrifying panic as the explosion rippled through the space. Bodies, charred and burned, fled from the flames, their movements broken and pained as they fought through the agony that consumed them.

I didn’t know if I was exhausted or not. I couldn’t tell. I felt the adrenaline, the power, and the shadow of terror that was quickly leaving. My magic whispered to me, screaming what needed to be done next. I couldn’t even think beyond the moment, beyond the power. It was all there was.

With the door gone, Skȓíteks streamed in without thinking, trying in vain to rescue those who were left, who were still trapped, only to have their screams join the others as the fire engulfed them, too. They burned, the pain crippling. The sounds added to the anguish that surrounded me.

“Everything is burning beyond my control. We need rain,” I whispered, my own voice echoing what was inside of me. The depth of it calmed and relaxed me as I lifted my hands to the sky, my magic swelling in a swirl of power that pressed against my skin, waiting to erupt.

With a howl of exertion, with a clap of my hands, the power left me, rushing across the space in a wave. It pushed against the flames, the tongues of heat swaying like trees in the wind.

A rumble of thunder shook the air as a bolt of lightning erupted from me, moving out of my skin as a cloud of smoke of the deepest purple seeped from me, magic erupting in billows of fog that moved over the space, smothering the fire, suffocating it.

Jaw clenching, I watched it spread, panic moving over those who were left in the fire, their pain and agony mixed with an undeniable fear of what was happening, what I was doing to them.

Closing my eyes, I focused on my power as it pressed against the heat, the destructive force of the magical flame pressing back in a tug of war of dominance and destruction. Each attack moved, one against another until my magic surged inside of me. The Drak magic swarmed my blood, boiling out of me in one powerful surge that migrated around the flame, engulfing it, moving it into me.

Letting it become part of me.

The heat, the warmth, the flame, it all swirled throughout my body, making it ache as the destructive attack surrounding me became less and less.

As the fire fell away, so did the screams. The terror and the fear that had infected my sight so completely faded to nothing more than pained sobs, the sound a loud echo swimming through the fog.

Conjured smoke swirled into a heavy fog that became a soothing balm to those who had been burned, those who were still trapped in the hell Ovailia had created. Breathing deeply, I let it fill me, my body calming as I connected to each of their powers, to their magic, and I felt them calm, felt them heal.

The heavy power of the smoke seeped back into the nothing between worlds as I stood amongst it. The warmth of the fog slipped over my body as it left, drifting back into me, leaving me standing as a lone pillar amongst the destruction.

“Joclyn?” an echo of a voice ran over me, the same word coming to me on repeat as my sight pulled it into me.

“Joclyn?” Again it came, loud and clear, as Ilyan ran into the room, Ryland at his heels. Both men looked frightened as they moved through what was left of the door and into the graveyard of charred mattresses, burned blankets, and twisted bed frames.

Ryland took one look around before he went to work, helping to remove those still living, ordering everyone around as they began to excavate the space. His voice was so distorted through my confusion that I barely heard him. I just stood, unable to look away from the tall, blond man directly across from me.

Ilyan’s magic pressed into me as he ran toward me, his eyes panicked and desperate. His magic enveloped me in swirls of comforting warmth, his usual need to know if I was safe coming on strong.

I sighed, letting the warmth fill me. His power was a salve as it connected to mine, filling in the gaps I hadn’t realized were there before. His soul fit so perfectly with mine that everything that had happened over the last few minutes didn’t seem to matter as much.

“Ilyan.”

Ilyan pulled me against him, the heavy tempo of his heart filling me. I had never felt his heart beat so fast before, never felt fear vibrate through his soul so heavily.

I clung to him without question, letting my magic move into him, soothing away the panic that had gripped him.

I’m okay, Ilyan,
I whispered into his mind, letting the words calm him along with the magic.

Instead of the familiar relief those exchanges would give him, however, his fear swelled. His magic pressed farther into me, searching for something I didn’t understand. That was, until his thoughts moved through the bond of our souls, his fear and anxieties made clear.

“Ilyan?” With a painful beat of my heart, I looked up at him, my own shocked trepidation budding right alongside his. “What is it?”

“It’s changed,” he whispered.

“What’s changed?” My brow furrowed in confusion as his magic continued to move into me, the heavy weight of it pressing against me as he checked me for injuries—no, I realized with a start, as he checked that I was me.

“Your magic, it’s different.”

Our magic moved together, a deep familiarity taking control. He didn’t look away, his eyes focused intently on me, his hands drifting from my back to hover above my arms, the fingers caressing the air above, as if he was afraid to break me, afraid to make contact.

“Different?”

“Your power.” An electric pulse moved in the air that separated us. My skin was alive with energy, magic prickling with an eager need for his touch. “It’s different yet the same.”

“It’s different, but the same?” My voice shook in bewilderment as I tried to understand what he was saying, but I was having difficulty thinking past the magnetic power of his hands. The desperate need for him pulled at me. “You’re … You’re not making any sense.”

“You can’t feel it, can you?”

“Feel what?”

He tensed as I did, his fear seeping into me, his confusion increasing right alongside mine. I tried to connect with his mind in a need to understand what he meant, but his thoughts were as shrouded as mine were.

“Your magic,” Ilyan whispered, “It feels the same … as what we felt before … in the sight.”

“What sight?” I asked, already knowing the answer. I knew in the loud whispers of my magic, the way the Drak moved throughout me and flared in sight.

The same white room flashed before me, but instead of the blood-soaked woman, it was Ilyan. Ilyan was speaking to a dark-haired, little girl I had never seen before: Ilyan screaming, Ilyan with black eyes.

“You saw,” I gasped, my eyes fading as the sight left me. “You were in a sight.”

“Yes. When I tried to pull you out … I saw…” Ilyan froze beside me, his eyes locked with mine, his hands still hovering inches above my arms, the electricity rumbling between us. “What you are.”

“And what am I?” I couldn’t keep the shake out of my voice.

Although his trepidation had left him, although I could still feel his fear, it had lessened somehow. The strong emotions seeped away from him, melding into the deep awe he always held for me. The bright blue of his eyes reflected brightly with it.

“A Drak. A true Drak. I can feel that now.”

I calmed at his confirmation, my soul rumbling with the knowledge that he, too, felt what was so clear to me.

I smiled, the calm in me growing. That was, until he placed his hands against my skin, and our magic connected as it had done so many times before. Except, this time, for the first time since our bonding, our magic
truly
connected.

The lights of before were nothing compared to what now surrounded us. Lost in a universe of starlight and color, I felt our magic move and dance through the air in a carousel of energy. Together, our magic surged. The magic of the earth, the magic I had absorbed, the magic traveling on the wind around us, all sparkled in a powerful surge that rose up like a wall.

With a mixture of fear and awe, the shadows of sight flashed in muted color before everything around us faded, leaving us standing in the middle of the ash-filled room, the few people who were left clearing out survivors staring at us with wide eyes.

“I guess I don’t have to worry if it’s you or not,” Ilyan mused from beside me, a laugh hidden underneath his deep accent. “I don’t think I could do that with anyone else.” Ilyan looked at me with all the depth of the love I had seen so many times before, his body warm as he held me against him, his hands wrapped tightly around me.

I stood still as I watched him, my heart pulsing in anticipation and need. My fingers dug into his back with desperation for what was to come.

He smiled with that same coy look he always gave me before he kissed me, before his lips connected with mine and swept my heart and soul into him. The touch of his lips, of his love, made it hard to breathe, something I wasn’t really regretting right then.

“Well, that was new,” Ryland interrupted with a snap, his face grim as he walked over to us. The elation seeped from my face as quickly as if I had been slapped. “We’ve got a problem, Ilyan. So, if you wouldn’t mind waiting until later to finish this…” His voice trailed off uncomfortably, his hand dragging through his hair as he looked around, the expression on his face plunging right back into reality.

“How many did we lose?”

My heart plunged right to my toes. The fact that it was the first question asked made reality seem so much more frightening than what it had been a moment ago.

“At least ten. I won’t know definitely until Etma and the other healers are able to tend to them all, but
that’s
not the problem.” He sighed, his eyes darting to mine for a second before returning to Ilyan, the tension building into a tight knot in my spine.

I pressed my head against Ilyan’s chest, trying to ignore the strain of the anxiety, my magic mounting right alongside it.

“One of the survivors said that Sain was here as well, with a blonde woman they didn’t know…”

“It was Ovailia,” I answered gravely, a flash of sight erupting before me as I spoke, the same image of her running through the streets of Prague overlaying the room.

“Where is she?” Ryland yelled, his anger seeping off him before he turned away from us, ordering one of the Skȓíteks to find her with a bark so loud several people jumped to attention, obviously surprised the order had come from him.

“Ry, she’s gone.” The hollow of my voice reverberated through my head as my eyes faded to black, the sight fluctuating as it pulled me farther in. Blood-covered hands were all I could see before it shifted, pulling out to Edmund’s laughing face.