The sky was on fire.
Flames poured over the western wall like molten rain, streaking across the heavens and igniting the highest towers. The once-black stone of Thale now glowed red with heat and fear. Screams rippled through the city as dragons dove from the smoke—winged shadows with teeth like temple spires.
And floating above it all: Riven.
Cloaked in silence, the hybrid watched with unreadable eyes as chaos bloomed below him. The dragon wrapped around him, Skarix, was immense—metal-plated, eyes glowing like searing brands. Its wings moved with precision, not instinct. Trained. Obedient.
Controlled.
Amine stood beside Mira on the tower platform, the wind buffeting his coat, his fingers trembling around the hilt of a mage dagger he didn't even know how to use.
"What do we do?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Mira's expression was carved from iron. "We hold the line. The Enclave will buy time. You—" she turned to him sharply, "—summon Thanor and don't hold back."
"I still don't fully control him—"
"Then stop trying to control him," she snapped. "Unite. Or we all die tonight."
Below the tower, the Flamebound Enclave mages formed a defensive formation in the plaza. Circles of protective glyphs surged with blue energy. Runes etched into the cobblestones lit up, forming a glowing web of anti-dragon wards. But the dragons descending on Thale were different.
Smarter.
And they were targeting the Mages first.
Skarix unleashed a sonic roar. It shattered the outer ward like glass.
Dozens of low-level mages screamed and fell, their bodies flung across the square like dolls. A second wave of dragons followed—leaner, quicker, like serpents with wings, diving straight into the breach.
Amine ran down the stairs as Mira leapt off the parapet and into battle, her staff trailing ribbons of golden energy. She landed with an explosive blast that vaporized two incoming beasts. Her voice echoed through the city as she barked orders to the Flamebound troops.
But even she couldn't be everywhere at once.
Amine reached the shattered summoning ring.
He dropped to his knees.
The city trembled beneath him as if the earth itself grieved.
"Thanor," he whispered. "Come to me."
Flames burst up around him—but something was wrong.
Thanor appeared, but fragmented. His body trembled, pulsing with conflicting magic. Shadow and fire warred across his skin. His form glitched, like a memory trying to stay solid.
He wasn't whole.
Amine's heart clenched.
"You're still chained," he whispered. "Still bound to my fear."
He closed his eyes.
And for the first time—he let himself remember everything.
The laughter in the school hallway. The fists against his ribs. The teacher who turned away. The whispers. The rooftop. The moment his feet left the edge.
And the silence that followed.
"I'm sorry," he said aloud. "I left you alone in that moment. I buried you. But I'm still here. We're still here."
A blinding pulse of light exploded from within Thanor.
The chains shattered.
The summoning ring cracked apart.
And Thanor reformed—larger than ever, flames burning clean and bright. His eyes met Amine's with something fierce and loyal and ancient.
Not a weapon.
Not a monster.
But a partner.
Thanor roared—and leapt into battle.
He landed in the plaza with a crash, scattering three lesser dragons. Flame erupted from his mouth—not wild, but precise, shaped like a beam of white-hot destruction. The air burned clean as he tore through enemy ranks.
Riven turned his head slowly from above, noticing.
His eyes narrowed.
"So," he murmured, "you broke your chain."
He descended, landing across from Amine in the ruined plaza. Skarix circled above him, ready to strike.
"This is your defense?" Riven said. "A tamed ghost made of your pain?"
"I didn't tame him," Amine replied, stepping beside Thanor. "I accepted him."
Riven studied him a moment. Then laughed. "Then let's test your resolve."
He raised a hand.
Skarix dove.
Thanor charged.
The two collided in the center of the city with a cataclysmic shockwave. Buildings crumbled. The air cracked. The stone plaza disintegrated beneath their weight. Flame and steel clashed, fangs and claws blurring in bursts of light and shadow.
Amine and Riven ran toward each other.
Amine dodged a lance of flame from Riven's palm, rolling into a slide and hurling a summoning sigil forward. From it emerged a burst of smoke and a smaller creature—an Ember Serpent, summoned instinctively from his growing Arcana.
Riven smirked and shattered it with a single blow.
"You're evolving fast," he said. "But not fast enough."
He lunged—and Amine barely blocked with a protective barrier. The force slammed him back. Blood filled his mouth.
Riven stood over him.
"I should thank you," he whispered. "You're teaching me what I'll need to know... when I go after the Sky Wound."
Amine coughed. "Why…?"
"Because this world isn't meant for either of us," Riven said. "You know it too. That's why you jumped."
Amine's eyes widened.
But before Riven could strike the final blow—Thanor smashed into him, hurling him backward through a wall.
Skarix dove to intercept but caught a blast of Mira's golden Arcana from above. The elder mage landed beside Amine, her arms glowing with new magic.
"You're not dying tonight, Amine," she said. "Not until you surpass all of us."
The battle raged for hours.
But by dawn, the dragons withdrew—dragging their wounded, leaving scorched earth behind. Skarix carried Riven away, the hybrid glaring back with fury—not at defeat, but at delay.
Thale had survived.
Barely.
In the aftermath, as healers worked through the rubble, Amine stood at the edge of the collapsed plaza with Thanor by his side—no longer in chains, no longer silent.
"We're not done," Amine said quietly.
Thanor's burning gaze met his.
No words.
But no chains.