Blake POV
The alarm does not scream.
It howls.
The sound ripples through the fortress like a living thing—low, resonant, ancient. The wards embedded in the stone flare crimson, then gold, then settle into a pulsing rhythm that vibrates through my bones.
Dragons.
Too close.
Too many.
Blaze snaps awake inside me, fire surging hot and sharp. Contact, he snarls. Multiple signatures. Hostile.
I am already moving.
My hand closes around the hilt of my blade as I stride into the main hall, boots striking stone with purpose. The others are there in seconds—Rhazek rolling his shoulders loose, Vaelor’s flames flickering eagerly, Kaelthryn already calculating angles and choke points. Syrien’s eyes are sharp, focused, dangerous.
And then—
I feel her.
Elle stands near the doorway, half-shado
