Kael Ashenvale's arms closed around nothing but cold, empty air.
She had been right there. RIGHT there. Six feet away, which was already too goddamn far, and he was out of the bed and moving and his mouth was forming her name and the white light swallowed her whole before the second syllable cleared his teeth.
What followed was a dragon shitfit so goddamn catastrophic that the Luminari healer hugged the wall for dear life, the Master Mage backpedaled ten whole steps, and the stonework of Guinevere's tower developed structural feelings it did not consent to.
One hour prior to the dragon's nuclear tantrum, eight hundred miles away, a wolf king lost his royal shit.
✦✦✦
DOMINO 56: A KING-SIZED MELTDOWN
GREYHALL CROSSING — 4:30 AM
Nicholas Shadowfell had been pacing the same corridor like a caged maniac for three hours when her presence flooded his chest through the matebond like a dam exploding.
One second, silence. The next, she slammed home.
