Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(87)
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, Sk?íteks 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.”