Zanaikeyros - Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons #1)(94)

And then she heard a distant purr.

It sounded like the tremolo of a lion.

And then it rose to a crescendo and filled the cathedral, roaring like an oncoming train.

The blaze that struck the dais was like nothing Jordan had ever experienced or imagined—the sound, the feel, and the fury—it was like a battering ram slamming through a living room wall.

It was terrifying.

It was savage.

And it was brutal, without constraint.

Jordan screamed, but the sound was drowned out by the fire.

All around her—to the left, to the right, above, and below—she was suddenly engulfed in flames.

“No. No! Noooooooooo!” she cried, bucking, twisting, and struggling. Through the corners of her eyes, she could see the seven mystical dragons as fire shot forth from their throats. The flames coalesced—and then they mingled—they became a centralized conflagration: permeating the dais, exploding like living lightning, and landing with finite precision.

She was about to pass out from fright, so she fixed her eyes on Zane’s strong hands—still looped over hers on the handholds—and she began to count backward: “Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven—”

Her counting was abruptly cut off by an ear-shattering bellow—Zanaikeyros crying out in pain!

Oh gods, oh, gods, oh gods…

The sound was so full of anguish and torment that it shook the dais beneath them.

Jordan’s heart seized in her chest, and she gasped for air, twisting to glance behind her. “Zane…”

He sounded like he was dying.

“Zane!”

The air filled with the stench of his burning flesh, and the heat—the sheer, unrelenting temperature—felt all-consuming. The dragyri’s head jerked back on his shoulders, and his mouth contorted in trauma. He arched his back; his thighs began to tremble; and he started to writhe like an animal.

They were torturing him beyond reason.

“Zane! Zane! Zane!” She wanted to reach out and soothe him. “No!” she shouted angrily at the gods, consumed with wild fury.

This wasn’t right!

It wasn’t fair!

And still, he wouldn’t stop shouting.

Someone, make him stop!

Oh, please, just make it stop!

His wings were melting, his bones were disintegrating, and his hands were sticking to her gloves—yet and still, the male held on.

He bent forward, forming an arc above her.

He used his head like a shield to protect her.

And he tightened his arms—what was left of his wings—all around her torso, even as he pressed tighter against her back, his now-hollow chest heaving from the effort…

And the agony.

And then, out of nowhere, the fire broke through.

Zane could no longer contain it.

A pain so acute, so unbearable—so unholy—punched the breath out of Jordan’s body. It struck her like a hammer bearing down on an anvil, and she prayed to any deity that would listen—just kill me!

Please, have mercy, and just kill me.

She jackknifed and screamed, bucked and shrieked, out of her mind with agony, and then—just like that—there was silence.

Darkness.

Stillness.

The complete absence of being.

It wasn’t a sensation—because there was no consciousness—it was more like simply ceasing to be…anything.

Alive.

Aware.

Asleep.

There was simply and absolutely…

Nothing.

And then she heard a sharp but distant pop, and an even fainter sound, like music—maybe a harp or a cello—rushing through her consciousness like an ambient stream; and light began to radiate all around her. First silver, then blue, then a resplendent combination of the two, and her body felt like it was floating.

Ah, and then…

And then…

It felt like a pure awakening.

The lightness in her head was intoxicating, her body tingled with ecstasy, and her spirit felt powerful—invincible—alive.

And Jordan knew she was perfect.

She was free.

There was no pain. There was no worry. There was no guilt, or shame, or regret—there was only the nirvana that swept her away: serenity, joy, and peace.

All her life she had sought this perfection—just a moment, just an instant, just a glimpse—and she wanted to remain there forever. She didn’t need to eat, or think, or do—not anything—ever again.

She just wanted to bathe in this light.

Forever.

“Oh gods, please, let me stay in this grace. If this is dying, I’m no longer afraid.”

Zane stirred behind her, threatening to pull her out of her reverie; and truth be told—in that blissful moment—he was the only soul in the universe that could. She felt him take a huge gulp of breath, and then his chest expanded; his body stopped trembling; and he slowly retracted his wings.

Jordan turned around, ever so slowly, and reached for his handsome face. She cupped his strong, angular jaw in her fingers, ran her thumb along his bottom lip, and began to weep, uncontrollably.

She couldn’t help it.

She was drowning in clarity.

Greater love hath no man than he would lay down his life for a friend…

And Zane had sacrificed everything—to shield her, to protect her, to bear the brunt of the pain…to spare her from the worst of the dragons’ flames.