Page 51 of Too Dangerous To Die

I draw deeply on what little power I have left. My regeneration’s slowed. My hunger gnaws. I haven’t fed in too long—not from her. Not since I pulled away that night with her mouth on mine, her fire spilling into me like salvation.

I can only get from her. Feed from her. My body doesn’t accept anything else. We’re both broken.

But I don’t need to feed now.

I need todestroy.

With a roar, I slam my palm into the broken stone beneath my feet and release the magnetic force still locked in my corrupted veins. The air ripples. Lightning splits the sky in a streak of gold-red flame—and it strikes the earth in a wave that scatters the creatures backward, their forms unraveling into wailing dust.

Silence returns.

But it’s afalsesilence. A truce between breaths.

The Unseen will return.

I stalk through the ruin toward Nora’s energy, rage coiling tighter in my gut with each step. My claws won’t retract. My wings twitch, twitch again. I feel every cell inside me screaming to take what’s mine, to anchor myself before I fade entirely.

But I won’t touch her.

She stands at the corner of the ruin, looking toward the horizon, unaware of the war I just fought to keep her breathing. Her magic dances around her—an aura visible even in the dying stormlight. She’s changing. Evolving.

And something deep in the world is listening.

I glance at my hand, where a mark now burns along my wrist—a line of cursed soul-ink from one of the Unseen. It’s not just corruption.

It’s aclaim.

They’ve marked me too. They always come to those that are tainted.

I clench my teeth and whisper into the wind.

“You won’t take her.”

And if you try, I will burn this world toash.

23

NORA

Idon’t remember when I started walking again.

The ruins shift around me, indistinct. Like they’re changing when I’m not looking. Cracked stone walls etched with glyphs hum softly beneath my fingers, pulsing with recognition that isn’t mine. My blood feels like it’s turning electric—my skin too tight for the things moving inside me.

It should frighten me.

It doesn’t.

I feel hollowed out. Not empty, but scraped raw—like something old has been gouged from my soul, leaving behind space for something else to take root. The remnants of our enemies still cling to the air, bitter and metallic, but I can barely focus on it. My legs move of their own accord, following some unspoken pull.

Rhaegar hasn’t come looking for me again.

Maybe he’s giving me space.

Or maybe he knows something I don’t.

The corridor narrows into a downward spiral of stone stairs, worn smooth by time and memory. The deeper it is, the colder it gets—frost coating the edges of the stone despite the storm’s warmth still lingering above. My breath turns to mist, and the magic in my veins quiets like it’s holding itself still.

At the bottom, the chamber yawns wide and circular.

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