Page 65 of Heartflame

“Like hell,” I said, rushing after him. “We’re not splitting up again.”

He didn’t argue, just grabbed my hand and pulled me into the corridor. The mansion that had felt so safe and welcoming just moments ago now seemed sinister, its winding hallways suddenly treacherous. Another boom echoed through the space, and I realized with sickening certainty that whatever was attacking had already been here when the wards went up. And we were locked inside with it.

“How is this possible?” I gasped as we moved quickly down the hall. “Your grandfather said⁠—”

“I don’t know,” Aeron cut me off, his voice tight with barely controlled rage. “But we’re about to find out.”

We rounded a corner and nearly collided with one of the magical constructs. It was moving erratically, its runes flickering with unstable light. As we watched, it simply stopped moving, its form going inert as whatever magic animated it seemed to drain away.

Someone was attacking the mansion directly, manipulating its magic.

We moved faster, abandoning caution for speed. The corridors seemed to stretch on forever, and I was beginning to think the mansion itself was being forced to work against us, rearranging itself to slow our progress. But then we burst through a set of doors and into the main foyer.

And I stopped dead.

Standing in the center of the marble floor, surrounded by the wreckage of what had once been a magnificent crystal chandelier, was Morgana. She was still wearing that white mask, still radiating that sickly green magic. But now she wasn’t alone.

Behind her stood at least a dozen figures, all of them with that same twisted, corrupted aura. Witches, I realized. The Purity Front. And they were all looking directly at us with expressions of hunger and hatred while dozens of undead lined the walls.

“Well, well,” Morgana’s distorted voice echoed through the foyer. “Isn’t this convenient? I was hoping to find you here, dragon boy. And your little witch mate too.” She tilted her head, that white mask catching the light. “How delightful that you’ve made this so easy for me.”

Chapter 27

Aeron

The moment I laid eyes on Morgana, I knew we were fucked. We were trapped inside the mansion with her, the wards still holding strong, with no way of communicating with the outside world. And despite my dragon heritage, I knew she could overpower me easily. I glanced at Quill, seeing the same desperate look in his eyes.

“Run,” I said, grabbing Quill’s hand and pulling him backward toward the corridor we’d just emerged from. “Now.”

But Morgana’s laughter stopped us cold. It echoed through the foyer like breaking glass, and I felt Quill flinch against me.

“Do you really think you could escape?” she asked, raising one gray hand. The undead lining the walls began to move, their jerky, unnatural gait carrying them toward us with horrifying speed. “This is my domain now, boy. Every stone, every spell, every servant in this house belongs to me.”

The mansion shuddered around us, and I realized with dawning horror that she hadn’t just attacked the wards, she had rewritten their magic completely down to the very foundations. The walls themselves had become her weapon.

I felt the temperature in the foyer drop as the magic in the air grew thick and suffocating. The undead were closing in from all sides, cutting off our escape route. I could smell the rot on them, could hear the wet sounds of their movements, and my dragon instincts were screaming at me to shift, to fight, to do something other than stand frozen like prey.

“Come on,” I growled, pulling Quill harder as I looked desperately for another exit. The foyer was massive, but it suddenly felt like a trap. The grand staircase was blocked by at least a dozen corpses. The corridor behind us was filling with more. And the Purity Front members were advancing slowly, their magic crackling around them like a predator savoring the hunt.

“Aeron, the windows,” Quill said urgently, his grip on my hand tight enough to hurt. “We can⁠—”

“We can’t get past her magic,” I cut him off, already feeling the way Morgana’s power had woven itself into every part of this place. The windows would be sealed just like everything else. She’d thought of everything.

I realized I only had one choice if I wanted to protect my mate.

Giving Quill a shove backward, I allowed the dragon to take over my completely, my body shifting much faster than I’d ever done before. My bones cracked and reformed as scales erupted across my skin. My wings tore free from my back in a burst of red-gold light that filled the entire foyer. I heard Quill gasp as I expanded to my full dragon form, my massive body taking up nearly half the space in the grand hall. The undead nearest to me recoiled instinctively, their rotting bodies sensing the apex predator that now stood before them.

“Foolish boy,” Morgana snarled, her voice taking on a sharp edge of anger. “Did you really think brute strength would save you?”

She raised both hands, and the green magic surrounding her intensified. The undead surged forward as one, a tide of rotting flesh that crashed against my scaled form. I roared, the sound reverberating through the mansion as I lashed out with my claws, tearing through corpses with brutal efficiency. Black ichor sprayed across the marble floors, but there were so many of them. For every one I destroyed, two more seemed to take its place.

I had to get Quill out. That was the only thought that mattered now.

I swung my massive tail, using it to clear a path toward the grand staircase. The undead flew backward, their bodies breaking apart like rotten wood. But Morgana’s magic was everywhere, wrapping around my limbs, burning like ice and fire combined. I snarled at her, my golden eyes meeting her masked gaze with pure defiance.

“You cannot win,” she said, and I could hear the certainty in her voice. “I have had decades to prepare for this moment. You are nothing but a child.”

She was probably right. But I didn’t care. All that mattered was protecting Quill.