Elven Heartbound: The Fifth Season (Leaving Inkitt 11/9/26)

“Now what?” Cerian hisses, and Tharios turns to him before looking back at what is somehow clearly a dragon.

Here. In the middle of the Wildthorne Woods.

“Now we run.”

He can’t be serious.

With a huff, Cerian meets Tharios’s eyes before breaking into a sprint through the moss-covered trees back toward everyone else who stopped for lunch. Tharios follows beside him.

“I thought you said it won’t see us if we don’t move,” Cerian says as they leap over a fallen log.

Tharios glances over his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure it’s seen us.”

Cerian risks a look at the dragon lumbering through the woods toward them. “Can’t you use your magic on it?”

“It’s immune to my life magic. I can’t even sense it.”

“You shouldn’t have told me to show it my fire.”

“That’s what the books said to do!”

“The books were clearly wrong.”

“Or you did it wrong.” Tharios stumbles but quickly rights himself.

“Is there a right way to show a dragon fire?”

“Well, it clearly wasn’t that!”

Cerian groans. “We’re just leading it to everyone else!”

Tharios suddenly stops, and Cerian slows.

“What are you doing?” Cerian cries.

“It’s the oathbinding. I can’t move.”

Cerian curses under his breath as he hurries to Tharios’s side. “At least shield us. Or wrap it in your air currents.”

Tharios presses his lips together and reaches out with his magic. The air picks up around them as ferns dance in the wind and twigs and pebbles lift off the forest floor.

The dragon bats the wind away with its wings.

“Tharios!”

“I’m trying. You could help.”

“With what?”

“Are you serious? Your plant magic!”

His plant magic. Right.

Cerian calls to the nearby trees with his magic, drawing forth roots and bending branches to surround the dragon.

He doesn’t dare attempt to restrain the beast, whose green scales catch the sunlight filtering through the trees.

That would just make it mad.

Madder than whatever Cerian did wrong with his fire magic.

If only it would fly away, but it seems in no hurry to depart.

The branches knit together into walls of bark and leaves as roots sprout up to weave around the dragon.

It seems disoriented by Tharios’s wind, and it slows as its head turns left and right.

It knows it’s being trapped.

“Cerian,” Tharios whispers. “Why are we inside your cage with the dragon?”

Cerian looks around at the walls surrounding them and growls. “I don’t know. I’m really hungry. ‘Come scout ahead with me, Cerian. It will be fun, Cerian.’ This is not fun!”

“I thought we’d be safe! The cord is longer than usual today. It’s still strangely long.”

“Well, the cord is wrong.”

Tharios ignores him. “Can you extend your wall between us and the dragon? It looks as hungry as you sound.”

“Do dragons eat people? You might have mentioned that.”

The dragon stalks toward them.

“I sure hope not. A wall. Build a—”

“You build a wall! Your air magic is just making it dizzy. And me.”

“So we can both be cranky?”

“Better than both being dead! And unlike you, if I die, Arisanna dies, and I will never forgive you.”

The ridiculousness of his statement doesn’t escape him, but he doesn’t take it back.

With a groan, Tharios abandons his air currents and calls to the plants instead as Cerian continues knitting together the cage around them. A wall sprouts up between them and the dragon, but the dragon rears back and scorches everything Tharios tries to grow.

“It’s going to light the whole forest on fire!” Cerian says.

Tharios drops his hands, and Cerian watches in horror as Tharios steps closer to the dragon.

“What are you doing? Stop walking toward it!”

“I think I’m sacrificing myself. I can’t stop!”

Grunting, Cerian grows a wall around Tharios so he can’t get closer.

“I appreciate the thought, Cer, but I don’t think your walls will stop me.”

The dragon circles Tharios’s cage, and Cerian fights against Tharios’s air and plant magic to keep the walls in place.

Maybe he should let the dragon have Tharios.

Cerian shakes his head to clear it, but his stomach feels like it’s trying to eat itself.

He’s weakening.

The beast stops in front of Tharios’s cage and rears back again.

A curse flies from Cerian’s lips. The dragon is going to light Tharios up like an elven sacrifice.

Cerian staggers. He can’t hold on to his plant magic much longer.

If only Tharios weren’t trying to kill himself.

The dragon wants Tharios, and this is Tharios’s fault. Perhaps Cerian should let the dragon—

He shakes his head again.

Hold on. Just a little longer.

Maybe someone will rescue them.

“Sanna,” he pushes out as her heart races with his. “Sanna, help. Please.”

Then, with another growl, he musters his strength and rushes in front of the dragon, fire shooting from both hands as the dragon lets loose its own flames.

With Tharios pushing against Cerian’s plant magic on one side and the dragon fighting his fire on the other, Cerian holds his ground.

For now.

“Sanna, hurry,” he whispers.

The edges of his vision darken, and pinpricks of light and shadow fill his gaze. He staggers again, but he holds on.

For a moment, he feels stronger, though he can’t explain it, and with a growl, he forces the dragon a few feet back with his flames.

Then his strength is gone, and the darkness sweeps through him once more.

He can’t do it. He can’t face this alone.

Someone will come. Someone has to come.

“Sanna,” he whispers before darkness engulfs him.

“So that’s when I said I grew up in the castle,” Rominy tells the group lounging around a clearing beside the road running from Darlei to Celesta.

Arisanna smiles as she takes another bite of the biscuit Cook packed when they left Windhaven early this morning. Rominy likes to tell this story, and it always elicits laughter, as it does now.

“And what did he say?” Elowyn asks, her food forgotten.

Rominy responds, but Arisanna tunes his words out.

Her heart is pounding. Why is her heart pounding?

She glances at their surroundings as if Cerian will magically appear out of nowhere, perfectly fine, but of course he isn’t here.

He’s with Tharios. They’re supposed to be having brotherly bonding time. They’ve been doing so well together that Arisanna encouraged Cerian to scout ahead with Tharios while the rest of them ate. It sounded like a good idea, and Lorial seemed to think they’d be safe as long as they followed the proper scouting protocol, whatever that means.

But now, her heart is racing.

She finds her feet and scans the woods on either side of the road ahead, but nothing appears out of the ordinary.

Is she imagining it?

“What’s wrong?” Jonas asks, suddenly at her side, and that gets everyone’s attention.

“Cerian. His heart is pounding. And it’s getting worse.”

Everyone is on their feet as Nestraya barks out orders, and Grandmera rests her hands on Arisanna’s shoulders.

“Be brave, young one,” Grandmera whispers.

Well. Now she’s terrified.

“Elowyn, keep her safe,” Nestraya says, and Elowyn nods.

“Of course, Mother.”

“Stay close. Now come on.”

Come?

Of course she’s supposed to come. Cerian may be in danger.

Arisanna’s own heart pounds to match Cerian’s as she hurries to keep up with the others.

“This way.” Nestraya breaks off into the woods, and they all follow.

When Arisanna trips, Rominy grips her arm and holds her steady.

She sways before stumbling again.

“Sanna!” Rominy grabs her around the waist.

“Something...is wrong,” Arisanna whispers. “My chest. It feels...tight. I can’t...I can’t breathe.”

“Nestraya!” Rominy cries, but it sounds like he’s far away.

Voices surround her, but it’s all murmurs and hums she can’t make out.

“Sanna, hurry.” Cerian’s voice rises clearly above the noise.

“Cerian?” Her own speech is quiet. Too quiet.

Why is she so weak?

She struggles to hear more, but all she catches is something about the heartbinding.

Cool hands on her forehead bring the world back into focus.

“Taliel, I need your magic!” Lorial cries. “I can’t break through.”

“You what?” Nestraya says, and then the cool hands are gone.

“Sanna, stay with me,” Rominy says in a voice edged with panic.

The woods begin to fade again. Whatever Nestraya did to her must be wearing off. Voices muffle, and Arisanna’s lungs burn. Rominy shifts away from her as someone yells at him.

New arms wrap around her, but she struggles to place them. Warm. Comforting. Gentle.

Grandmera.

Where did Rominy go?

“Sanna,” Cerian says again.

She tries to respond, but her tongue won’t move.

And then the world goes dark.