Stop being such a prick, Aesar reprimanded, his tone withering. Use my knowledge. You have no qualms about helping yourself to my head with everything else.
Muttering to himself, Lykor summoned Essence. He sifted through Aesar’s mind, curling mending light around his palm. He flung the magic at the girl.
Red threads sailed across the chamber, twisting together like an array of comets. Flinching, the elf stumbled away and gasped when the scarlet tangle collided with her chest, stitching the gashes left by his claw.
So refined. Aesar rolled his eyes. Lykor was surprised that he didn’t lose them on their journey into the back of his skull. Now, try asking her name.
Closing the distance, Lykor stalked up to the girl and barked, “What’s your name, you shaman twat?”
Aesar slumped into the couch, throwing his head back with a frustrated sigh.
The girl’s eyes went wide before she scowled, cerulean irises cold enough to frost the room.
ANY OTHER CLEVER SUGGESTIONS?
Don’t mind me. Aesar arched his brow. I’m content with watching you screw this up. He flapped his hand. I’ll be here when you’re ready for me to intervene.
The girl tilted her chin, folding her arms. “I don’t know anything about the Heart if you’re going to ask again. Prince Vesr—”
Lykor warped the few remaining feet in front of her. She shrieked, scrambling back to hit the wall before she could finish that damning word. He wrapped his fingers around her mouth and growled through his teeth. “Don’t say it.”
Lykor yanked his hand away when she bit him. “Don’t say his name, you shaman spawn.” He seized her leathers, shaking her instead of wringing her neck like he would’ve preferred. “Do you want to fucking die?”
The girl’s nostrils flared, her defiance obviously coalescing. “You’re going to kill me anyway, so what does the timing matter?”
“One way or another, you’re telling me everything you know about the Heart. It’s your choice on how much you’d like to endure first.” She shrank back when Lykor elongated his fangs.
Stop scaring her. Aesar scolded, rising to resume his pacing across the library.
“Answer me or I’ll start peeling layers off your eyeballs with rending.” A bluff since Aesar still had that portion of their Well locked away. But the elf didn’t know that.
Do you have to be so needlessly graphic?
Lykor sensed Aesar poised to spring, undoubtedly ready to throw his full strength against him and battle for control if Lykor went any further than intimidation.
Regardless, Lykor flared Essence. The unformed magic glittered like the gold in the stones, billowing around the chamber. The elf stiffened, plastering herself against the wall before her eyes darted to the torches.
Lykor flashed his canines. “Try it,” he taunted, fists tightening against her leathers. “I’ll play with your fire.”
“The Heart spoke to me,” she said quickly, apparently thinking better of any more rebellion.
The way she claimed something so asinine dragged an incredulous laugh out of Lykor’s throat. She yanked her shredded armor straight when he released her.
“What did the Heart say, then?” Lykor sarcastically mocked. He placated Aesar by releasing his magic before that meddler got any ideas about wrestling their entire Well away. “And don’t bother wasting your breath if you’re going to say something even more ridiculous.”
She faltered, teeth dragging over her lip. “I—I don’t remember.”
Lykor snorted. “How convenient.”
“I’m not lying.” The elf straightened, glaring up at him with those unnerving eyes. “Let me hold the relic without this tether and I’ll prove it to you.”
A wave of uncertainty had Lykor flashing his attention to Aesar before he thought better of seeking his advice. THIS COULD BE HER ATTEMPT AT MANIPULATING ME INTO TAKING OFF THAT MANACLE.
Aesar shrugged, apparently not seeing any harm. Obviously, he was more trusting since she had some type of association with his twin. She doesn’t seem to know any more than we do about the Hearts’ role in shackling the dragons.
Cracking the aggravation out of his neck, Lykor entertained the notion. The girl’s claim was too bizarre to be a jest. If she was foolish enough to summon her power, he’d finish ripping the talents from her Well and rid himself of this bond’s affliction.
Lykor drew out his key and the Heart of Stars from his trouser pocket. He extended the gleaming crystal, dropping the relic into her palms. Seizing her wrist, he unlocked the shackle, letting the metal clatter to the floor.
Unable to barricade from the bond, Lykor braced himself as her awareness flooded into his. The connection’s blazing silver cord circled the surface of his Well—threatening like a noose.
Gritting his fangs, Lykor exhaled through his nose before residual dread strangled him. He shoved down memories of the king hacking away the natural defenses of his mind, hoping the elf was too oblivious to take advantage of his vulnerability. Lykor readied himself to react if she ignited her magic.
Frowning, the elf studied the artifact glowing with her talents. Lykor almost thought she wasn’t going to speak until she went rigid, her attention fixed on the Heart. The girl’s words suddenly flowed out in a rush.
Greetings, young draka, hear our plight,
New hatchlings from earth and starlight.
From distant galaxies did the whelps arrive,
They stole our magic and left us deprived.
They used five Hearts to bind our power in chains:
Earth, Fire, Lightning, Wind, and Rain.
The balance of earth, it must be restored,
