There was nothing left but chaos.
The teenagers of House Droy were already charging at her, their feet carving arcs of green flame into the ground, faces twisted with fury and fear in equal measure.
Fire rained down.
Streams, waves—entire torrents of it—crashing toward her in a blazing deluge. The heat was so intense it melted the bones buried beneath the island, flames clawing upward toward the sky like a living inferno.
Raicon was airborne.
Green fire wings beat behind him, scattering sparks with every flap. His eyes burned with rage as a sword of condensed flame formed in his grip, its edge screaming with heat.
Behind her, Kelly felt it.
Bloodlust.
Thick. Heavy.
Jakis—and the rest of House Arous—joined the charge, the stench of slaughter rolling off them in suffocating waves. It crawled into her throat, sharp and metallic, nearly making her gag.
