#86 New Bond

New Bond
Ryanna POV

A hydra.

Not a dragon. Not a serpent. A fucking hydra, its seven heads snapping, it's fangs dripping black venom that hissed and smoked where it splattered the stone. Its body was a mountain of scales and claws, wings torn and ragged, eyes glowing with a sick, corrupted light.

The courtyard erupted into battle instantly. Dryke’s dragons were already in the air, three on each head, claws tearing, fire pouring down the monster’s throats. Wolves surged from the gates, shifting mid sprint, golden, black, russet fur flashing as they leapt for tendons and throats. Witches and warlocks raised wards, their magic slamming into the beast in waves of flame, ice, and vine.

“Go!” I screamed, racing down the stairwell, skirts hitched, knives flashing at my thigh. By the time I hit the courtyard, blood was everywhere, wolf blood, dragon blood, ichor thick and tar like dripping from the hydra’s wounds. The beast swung a head, snapping two wolves in its jaws before I could even scream their names. A dragon screeched, falling, one wing shredded by a venom strike.

Veyra bolted past me, her claws already out, black hair whipping like a banner. Her eyes burned frostfire, her fangs gleaming. She leapt for the beast without hesitation, carving a line across one scaled neck. Lucien was right behind her, his shadows forming spears, skewering another head in a spray of ichor. His silver eyes burned, but instead of jealousy, I saw hunger, the way his gaze flicked to Veyra, admiration written across every line of his face. She smirked at him, feral and blood soaked, and I almost laughed. Of course those two would eye-fuck each other mid-apocalypse.

A roar cut the sky. Aedryos and Ze appeared at my side, starfire and void rippling in their auras, both looking terrifying and divine. Aedryos held out his hand without looking at me, Ze the same on the other side. I grabbed them.

The instant our palms met, the world ignited. Starfire, void, and my silver flame fused in an unholy trinity, the courtyard drowning in light so pure the hydra staggered back, heads shrieking as one. The bond surged like molten iron through my veins, and together we unleashed hell.

The blast hit the hydra dead in the chest, holy fury ripping through scale and flesh. Its screech split the sky. It was fucking deafening, bodies falling from its thrashing necks. One head vaporized in an instant, then a second, a third, each obliterated by the convergence of our flames.

But the beast did not fall easily. It tore through wards, crushed wolves underfoot, lashed out with a tail that sent a dragon spiraling into the keep’s tower. The courtyard became a slaughterhouse. Smoke, fire, fur, and blood painted the stones. I felt each death like a blade in my chest.

We pushed harder, every ounce of power wrung from us. My body screamed, muscles shredding, blood leaking from my nose, but I didn’t let go. Aedryos roared, Ze bellowed, and together we poured every drop of our fury into the hydra.

Finally, with a scream that shook the castle, the beast collapsed. Its last four heads burst in a spray of black ichor, its body convulsing before slamming into the courtyard with an earth shattering crash. The shockwave blew the air from my lungs. Silence rang for one horrible heartbeat.

Then the screams started. Wolves howled in pain. Dragons keened for their fallen. Witches sobbed over the bodies of their kin. “No,” I choked, pulling free, my knees slamming to stone as I sprinted toward the first body. My hands glowed silver, pouring life back into a wolf with his belly split open. He gasped, jerking, and I shoved harder, sealing flesh, knitting bone. “Live, damn you.”

I moved to the next. And the next. My magic bled with every healing, my pulse weakening, but I didn’t stop. Children were crying, warriors were clutching wounds, dragons were writhing on the ground with venom burns that ate through scale. I ran from one to the other, my skirts soaked, my hands shaking.

“Queen!” someone shouted, but I ignored them.Then I saw her. Veyra.

She was on her knees near the beast’s corpse, one hand pressed desperately to her throat. Blood poured through her fingers in a river, dark and wet, each pulse weaker than the last. Her claws were slick with it, her eyes wide but still burning.

“No, no, no,” I whispered, skidding across the stone. I ripped her hand away and almost gagged, the wound was a gaping slash across her neck, too deep, too much blood.

Her lips moved, voice a broken rasp. “Don’t waste… on me.”

“Shut up,” I snapped, already glowing, already pouring. “You don’t get to die, you stubborn bitch.”

I pressed both hands to her throat, my fingers deep in the wound, holding it open so my silver fire could flood inside. My magic flared violently, too bright, too wild. It sparked against her hybrid essence, her body jerking under my hands.

“Stay with me!” I begged, my tears dripping onto her skin. “Veyra, stay!” Her eyes locked on mine, fierce even as her body failed. She managed a smirk, bloody and weak, but there. “You feel it too,” she whispered.

“Fuck you,” I sobbed, shoving harder, pouring life force, burning myself hollow. “Of course I feel it.”

Her chest arched, her body convulsing. My vision blurred, black creeping at the edges. Syrene’s voice screamed in my head, sharp and desperate. “Ryanna, enough, you’ll kill yourself!”

“I don’t care!” I screamed out loud. “She’s mine, I’m not letting her go!”

The wound fought me, venom burning my magic, trying to unravel it. I dug deeper, clawing at reserves I didn’t know I had, sparks shooting from my fingers. My blood mixed with hers, dripping into the wound as if the bond demanded more than magic, it demanded sacrifice.

Something shifted. The glow stabilized, sinking into her veins, knitting flesh, stitching artery and muscle. Her eyes rolled back, then snapped forward, glowing faint frostfire as her breath hitched, strong and sudden.

The gash sealed shut under my hands, leaving only a faint scar across her pale skin.

I collapsed forward onto her chest, gasping, too weak to sit. She caught me, arms trembling but alive, alive, alive. Her laugh was ragged and broken, but real. “Reckless queen,” she rasped, her voice raw but steady. “You’re gonna kill yourself one day.”

I lifted my head, tears streaking my face, hair plastered to my cheeks. “Yeah,” I panted, shaking. “But not today.”

Her hand lifted, her claws gentle as she tucked a strand of blood-matted blonde from my face. Her eyes softened. “You’re fucked,” she whispered. “So am I.”

And then, despite the blood, despite the carnage, despite the hundreds watching us from around the courtyard, she leaned in and pressed her forehead to mine.

The bond flared like a star being born.