Page 24 of Darkbirch Academy

Dayn nods once. “The guard who hunts you is no ordinary clearblood. He’s what they call an Emissary—bound to me through the ritual, given access to draconic power without the inconvenience of actually being a dragon.” His face is still a controlled mask, but I don’t miss the moment his lip curls slightly in something akin to disgust. “My fire flows through his veins, corrupted and twisted to serve their ends.”

I think of Mazrov’s unnatural eyes, the way he moves withpredatory grace. “That’s how he damages auras so permanently.” It’s not just clearblood magic—it’s something older, more primordial.

“Correct.” Dayn begins pacing, heat shimmering around him with each step. “Heathborne has been experimenting with this process for decades. Mazrov is merely their most successful specimen—but not their last. They intend to create more.”

My mission parameters shift in my mind like falling dominoes. I came to eliminate Mazrov, to destroy the threat he poses to darkbloods everywhere. But if Heathborne can simply make more like him...

“How many can they bind to you?” I ask, my voice hardening.

“The ritual can support three bonds at once. Mazrov is the only active Emissary now, but they’re preparing two more candidates.” Dayn’s eyes lock onto mine. “Your brother was being evaluated as a potential candidate, by the way.”

The room seems to tilt around me. “Jax? They wanted to turn my brother into?—”

“Into a weapon against his own kind, yes.” Dayn’s voice is merciless. “His darkblood abilities would have made him even more effective than Mazrov. Fortunately, your extraction was successful.”

I struggle to maintain my composure, anger threatening to cloud my judgment. “So I kill Mazrov, and two more take his place. That’s what you’re telling me.”

“Unless you address the source.” Dayn’s gaze bores into mine, challenging me.

“You,” I say flatly. “Without you, there’s no dragon magic to bind.”

A dangerous smile spreads across his face. “Now you understand.”

“Why tell me this? You realize I’ll report it to my coven.”

“Because, Salem, we find ourselves in a position of mutual interest.” He steps closer, the heat of his body washing over me. “Your people slaughtered mine for years before the clearbloods rose to power.”

I stand my ground, refusing to back away. “Dragons burned us first,” I counter sharply. “You hunted us like cattle. My ancestors have the scars to prove it.”

“Your ancestors were parasites,” he hisses, eyes flashing gold. “Feeding on death and pain.”

A wire tightens in my chest. “Your kind breathed fire on our villages because you enjoyed watching us scream,” I snarl. The temperature in the room rises with our anger, the air between us shimmering.

“We were the guardians of natural order,” Dayn’s voice rises, his academic facade slipping to reveal something ancient and wrathful. “Before your people learned to corrupt it with your blood rituals.”

“We honored the dead,” I spit the words at him. “We gave meaning to mortality while your kind soared above, playing gods.”

We’re inches apart now, the room crackling with tension. My heart hammers against my ribs, adrenaline flooding my system—partly from anger, partly from something else I refuse to acknowledge. His proximity triggers something primal in me, a recognition of power that both repels and attracts.

“And yet,” he says, his voice dropping dangerously low, “here we stand, the last of the dragons and a daughter of Salem, facing the same enemy.”

I’m suddenly, uncomfortably aware of the heat radiating from his skin, the strange magnetic pull of his presence. My body responds traitorously, a flush spreading across my skin that has nothing to do with the elevated temperature of the room.Is this another power of his I’m not aware of? Is hemanipulatingme via the runes he stamped on me?

“Temporary alignment of interests doesn’t make us allies.” I try to control the anger in my voice.

“No,” he agrees, his eyes trailing slowly over my face in a way that makes my skin prickle. “But it makes us something far more interesting.”

I step back, needing distance to attempt to calm down, to clear my head. “This changes nothing,” I say after a tense pause. “I have my mission.”

“It changes everything,” Dayn counters. “Your mission was based on incomplete information. You came to eliminate Mazrov, believing him to be the source of the threat. Now you know he’s merely a symptom.”

He’s right, damn him. I need to reevaluate. I exhale. “If what you say is true about the ritual, killing Mazrov alone won’t stop Heathborne,” I say reluctantly.

“No, it won’t.” Dayn returns to his desk, putting welcome space between us. “They’ll simply bind another Emissary to me and continue their work.”

I cross my arms, studying him with a grimace. “And what exactly do you want from me, Professor? I doubt you’re offering yourself as a target.”

“Freedom,” he says simply. “Break the binding ritual, and I’ll ensure Heathborne can never create another Emissary.”

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