She twisted her fingers, igniting a line of fire beneath Vaela’s boots. The other woman leapt back, landing hard on the cracked obsidian. Her left leg buckled slightly.
Weak spot.
Seraphine pressed forward, glaive slashing high and low, her movements brutal and precise.
Vaela matched her blow for blow—until Seraphine feinted left, then dropped into a roll, sweeping Vaela’s legs from under her. The woman hit the ground with a snarl, claws scrabbling.
Whitefire surged in Seraphine’s palm.
But Vaela was faster.
She twisted, catching Seraphine’s wrist and yanking her down, slamming an elbow into her ribs. Air fled her lungs.
They broke apart, breathing hard, circling again.
“You think you’ve won?” Vaela panted. “The Court will never?—”
“I don’t care about the Court,” Seraphine snapped. “I care about stopping the Hollow. And I’m done letting you sabotage us.”
Cassian stepped forward, blade drawn. “Sera?—”
“No,” she said, not looking at him. Her voice was steel wrapped in flame. “I need to end this.”
She moved.
Launched forward with a roar that wasn’t entirely human. Heat surged from her spine, tendrils of whitefire spiraling out from her shoulders. Her body twisted mid-air, bones shifting, reshaping—half-dragon, half-woman. A creature of prophecy and fury.
Wings of flame erupted from her back, vast and blinding, the heat warping the very air around her. Her braid scorched free, hair fanning like a corona of fire.
Her glaive—already burning—melted into goldlight, the edges humming with magic so old it made the runes on the chamber walls flicker in response.
Vaela froze.
For a single heartbeat, she was no longer the predator.
She was prey.
Seraphine slammed into her with a scream, the flat of her molten blade colliding with Vaela’s chest with bone-crushing force. The impact echoed like thunder. Sparks flew.
Then Seraphinetwisted—not gently or mercifully—using the momentum to hurl Vaela across the dome.
The woman flew like a broken doll.
She hit a blackened column with a sickening crack, slid down in a heap. Blood smeared the stone behind her. Her shoulder hung at an unnatural angle. One leg was bent wrong.
But still—still—Vaela laughed.
Seraphine landed hard, boots skidding across scorched stone, her wings fading in a ripple of embers. She stalked forward, still half-shifted, skin glowing with fire beneath her armor.
“Yield,” she growled, voice layered with something ancient and inhuman.
Vaela spat blood, her grin jagged. “Not today.”
With a flick of her ruined wrist, she flung a shard of writhing black magic at the ceiling.
Cassian shouted, “Sera?—!”
The spell detonated.
