Golden Flames (Dragonblood Assassin Book 4) by Andy Peloquin & Jaime Castle

Author:Andy Peloquin & Jaime Castle [Peloquin, Andy & Castle, Jaime]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2023-12-11T16:00:00+00:00

49

Natisse

Natisse returned to her body with a gasp. She stood once again in front of the strange stone obelisk in the center of the Tomb of Living Fire. Hand outstretched, her fingers rested against the smooth top—in the exact position she’d been in before the Shadow Realm had sucked her in.

Her limbs felt foreign to her, as if she’d woken up with midnight numbness. Pins and needles prodded at her and her head was light. After what felt like forever in the Shadow Realm as nothing more than a soul, a figure of pure fire and energy, her body felt strangely heavy. Weight dragged on her limbs, pressed her against the stone beneath her feet, burdened her chest.

The disorientation did not last long. Within a few frantic breaths, she recovered enough that her heart slowed its hammering and the strange heaviness faded.

All the same, she balled her hands into fists, tilted her head side to side, and dug her heels into the roughhewn floor of the Tomb of Living Fire. Grounding herself in the sensations that once more registered in her body, she was back in the Mortal Realm where she belonged.

But what of the dragons?

Natisse spun away and took in the stone columns encircling her. Every one remained utterly unchanged. No sign of Shahitz’ai or any of the others.

Fear and worry twisted her gut into knots. She tried to tell herself she hadn’t failed, that it was simply taking time for the King of the Ember Dragons to convince the rest of his kin. That had to be it, right? Just different passages of time between the Mortal Realm and the Shadow Realm. She had no idea how long she had been gone from the Dimvein, but surely it would only be a matter of moments before—

A loud crack echoed from behind Natisse. Heart leaping into her throat, she turned and dropped her hand to her lashblade—for all the good it would do her.

Natisse’s eyes flew wide at the sight that greeted her. One of the pillars—a massive stone towering nearly three times her height and as wide across as her outstretched arms—had begun to crack. The fissure started at the top, and with every beat of her heart, grew broader and ran farther downward. And through the fracture shone a familiar red-gold light.

Natisse held her breath, scarcely daring to believe her eyes. Yet she wasn’t imagining things. The breach grew, spreading, and chunks of stone began to fall away. The upper half of the obelisk crumbled, and from it arose a figure she knew well.

Shahitz’ai’s mighty bulk drifted up from billowing dust. He looked the same as he had in the Shadow Realm—missing one eye, face scored deep by claw marks, broken scales—only here, he was a being comprised entirely of shadow rather than fire. Sparks danced among the swirling mists that made up his form, but he was still far from tangible, far from whole.

Natisse stepped back instinctively.

A deep, pleasureful moan echoed in her mind. Sheer delight filled Natisse inside, and she knew it to be Golgoth’s response to Shahitz’ai’s presence.

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