Page 214 of Fallen Nocturne

In the circle, Rhianelle has gotten to her feet. She’s limping badly. Her shin isn’t fully healed. But she’s standing and she retrieves her sword. Hrolf’s golden blade.

Rhianelle grips it with shaking hands. The fae prince cannot look away from his wyvern. Sanguisyl refuses to fight. Blood streams from his wings while the small wyvern tears him apart.

“This isn’t how—” Finnbheara starts. He shakes his head and forces focus. The fight isn’t over. He raises his sword and charges.

Rhianelle meets him. Barely. Her footwork is clumsy now. Her injured leg can’t support her weight properly. Every step is agony written across her face.

Finnbheara slips past her guard and drives his fist into her face. Her head snaps back, blood spilling from her mouth as she staggers.

He gives her no chance to recover. His boot slams into her stomach and sends her rolling across the dirt. Rhianelle curls around the pain, gasping, but still forces one knee beneath herself.

Finnbheara advances and swings again. She catches the blow on Hrolf’s sword, though the impact nearly tears it from her hands. He kicks her injured leg and she collapses with a cry.

Still, she rises.

Her movements are slower now. Blood runs down her chin and one arm hangs close to her ribs, but she drags herself upright and raises the golden blade again.

Behind them, Coral continues her assault on Sanguisyl. He’s making low, mournful sounds but he still won’t fight back. Even as she tears him apart.

The crowd has gone quiet again. This isn’t funny or entertaining anymore. Finnbheara presses his advantage. The partial healing bought Rhianelle time but not victory. He drives her back toward the white ash line that neither can cross. She’s running out of room as well as strength.

Finnbheara knows it. I can see the calculation in his eyes.

This ends now.

He pulls back. Not to strike with his sword but to cast a spell. His free hand comes up. Fae magic, the same kind used on Rainer and Alys.

A killing spell. Nevrin.

“Rhianelle!” I scream.

Finnbheara’s spell builds and the light glows brighter. Coral’s head snaps around. She sees the spell taking shape, aimed directly at Rhianelle.

Her rider and friend. Her everything.

Coral abandons Sanguisyl and leaps down from him. She lands between Rhianelle and Finnbheara.

The wyvern opens her jaws wide and screams. A sound that reaches into the chest and squeezes. Her eyes go wide and her pupils dilate until they nearly swallow the color.

Coral’s scales begin to glow. The pale white light gets brighter and brighter. Pure, raw, unstoppable power builds inside her small frame. It’s aimed directly at Finnbheara.

The fae prince’s spell dies. His hand drops and his face goes white. Because he recognizes what he’s seeing.

This is the same power Sanguisyl has. The power that can level cities, burn armies, and reduce mountains to slag. An ancient, devastating force living in Coral’s tiny body.

“Oh fuck,” Finnbheara breathes.

The crowd sees it too and their laughter dies completely, replaced by something else.

Fear.

Screams of terror erupt. The fae are running now, abandoning their positions. People scramble backward from the circle, away from the small pale wyvern who’s glowing like a dying star. Because they understand now.

This isn’t a joke.

Coral might be small and broken. But she has the same devastating power as Sanguisyl. And she’s about to unleash it on all of them.

Chapter 31 Svenn