Page 3 of The Last Syphon

Terror shot down her spine.

Its mouth opened, flashing rows and rows of deadly sharp teeth before the back of its throat lit up red.

Panic gripped her.

“Inara!” Felix shouted in alarm.

Her hands shot up. Magic erupted from her soul, forming a perfect dome of bright gold around the two of them. The red dragon fire clashed hard against the shield, making it tremble with a deafening boom.

Pure, unrelenting pressure bore down on her. Felix released a blood-curdling scream as he curled up into a ball at her feet, his arms coming up to protect his head. Not that it would do much good if the fire touched him. The power in it…It was unlike anything Inara had ever experienced.

She gritted her teeth, her arms shaking from the effort it took to keep the shield in place. Different shades of red danced across the layer of magic protecting them, pouring over it in a beautiful, almost hypnotic display. There was no denying the fact that it was mesmerising to watch.

If one forgot what it was trying to do.

Fucking incinerate them.

Inara’s shield shrunk, forcing her down to one knee with a pained grunt. The power in the dragon’s flame was too much, too strong. Her control was slipping, bit by agonising bit, her entire body trembling. She couldn’t keep it back; it was going to break through, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Blood began to drip from her nose. Darkness crept into her vision, threatening to drag her under. Pain hammered her head, her blood pounding, as if searching for a way to escape the onslaught it was under—all indicators she was reaching her magical threshold already.

The dragon had to be old. Ancient. The sheer magnitude of its power, the heat seeping through Inara’s shield no matter how hard she tried to keep it back, proved that. In a matter of seconds, her power would falter, and she and Felix would perish under its fire.

She had to do something.

She had to save them.

Fates, forgive me.

Inara unlocked the forbidden magic running deep in her blood, locked away in her soul. The magic she was told never to use. The magic that would end her life should anyone know she possessed it.

She had no choice.

They were going to die if she didn’t.

There was no other option.

In her syphon sight, streams of golden spectral energy appeared one by one, teeming and overflowing with power; two on the outside of the cavern, one at her feet, and one directly above her, coming from the dragon. The brightness of its soul told Inara all she needed to know. Its power level was leagues ahead of anything she had ever encountered before. Ever experienced.

Take it. Take it all, the Dark Voice whispered in her head, enticing her.

She wouldn’t.

She would never.

Inara began to syphon the power from the dragon’s flame instead, drawing it into her shield to boost its strength. She stayed far away from the creature’s soul, focusing her magic purely on its flame and its flame alone. There was more than enough power in it to do what she needed. She didn’t need the extra temptation.

Her head tilted back, eyes closing as magnitudes of magic came pouring into her from all sides. The more power that flooded her system, the more indestructible she felt. The more Inara syphoned, the stronger she became.

It was a risky game, she knew, because the feeling was utterly addictive. She didn’t want to stop. It was the same feeling Inara got every time she used her syphon ability, and it took everything within her not to succumb to its call.

That voice of something dark, something evil, again whispered in her head to take it all, to drain everything around her until there was nothing left.

Inara would not listen. She couldn’t let it control her, no matter how tempting.

Her mother’s words echoed in her head.

“You’re stronger than it is. It doesn’t control you. You control it.”

Determination steeled her spine. She would not let it win.