The battlefield stretched endlessly, a barren wasteland of scorched earth and ash. The air was heavy with the smell of blood and fire, and every breath was a struggle. Days had passed since the chaos began. The bond between your dragons was a constant, aching tether in your minds.

The army around you was a shattered, desperate thing. Soldiers limped through the camp, faces pale from hunger and pain, their movements sluggish. You fought to hold on, to lead when every part of you screamed to give in to the bond and find him. But where would you go? The enemy had scattered the troops in every direction, and shadows stretched over the battlefield like claws, dividing us from those we loved most.

Later, at camp, it was the shadows you noticed first. They coiled in the edges of your vision, foreign yet familiar, wrapping around you like a whisper, beckoning. Your heart quickened as you recognized the faint pull of Xaden’s magic. It was faint and erratic, as though he were barely holding on, but it was there. He was there.

You broke into a run, exhaustion forgotten. The camp blurred as you followed the shadows, each step guided by the bond between us. Sgaeyl roared in my mind, urging me faster, her connection to Tairn surging with hope.

When he came into view, he was slumped against a rock, blood staining his dark leathers, his hand pressed to a wound on his side. Shadows flickered weakly around him, as though they, too, were on the brink of collapse. His silver eyes lifted, and the moment they met yours, relief and raw emotion shattered across his face. His usual stoic mask was gone, replaced by unrestrained vulnerability. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“About damn time.”

His shadows surged forward, encircling you like an embrace, pulling you closer even as his strength wavered. Though his body was battered and broken, his gaze burned with fierce determination, as if he’d been holding on for this moment alone. For you.