Onyx Storm (The Empyrean #3)

by Rebecca Yarros

I’m just doing whatever it takes to save Xaden.

The rarest of signets—those that rise once in a generation or century—have manifested concurrently with an equal twice in our records, both critical times in our history, but only once have the six most powerful walked the Continent simultaneously. As fascinating as that spectacle must have been, I would rather not live to see it happen again. —A Study on Signets by Major Dalton Sisneros

The last time a shadow and lightning wielder fought side by side, they managed to drive the venin back into the Barrens for a few hundred years. We’ll figure out how to do it again.”

Xaden and I are the first of our signets to live simultaneously since the Great War?

“How often do second signets accompany these particular relics?” My fingers trail down the side of his neck. “Often enough to be sure Kaori can’t possibly have accurate records, but not too completely that anyone questions why I only present with one,” he answers. “Our dragons came looking for us. They knew what they were doing.”

You conveniently see me as the villain, but you’re bonded to two.”

Upon failure of three exams, Jesinia Neilwart has been removed from the adept path and stripped of all its responsibilities and sacred privileges as of January 15. Under protest, I transfer her command to Professor Grady at his over-authoritative request. —Official Records: Scribe Quadrant, Colonel Lewis Markham, Commandant

My brightest light, I meant to prepare you but only had time for half the lessons you need, half the history, half the truth, and now time runs short.

Your mother and I trust no one, and neither can you.

We all have a part to play in what’s coming for us; this one is simply hers. While he was busy raising Violet for this particular mission, your mother was raising you. I wonder what legacy you’ve inherited.”

“Hey, Bodhi?” I whisper so only the two of us can hear. “Hey, Violet?” he answers, looking up. “What’s your second signet?” I lower my voice even more. He lifts his brows, then glances in Garrick’s direction. “Don’t have one.” “As in you don’t have one that I get to know about but will eventually see you wield, or don’t have one have one?” A corner of his mouth lifts into a wry smile that reminds me of his cousin’s. “Don’t have one. Just like Xaden.

thankfully there’s no cut on her folded arms. “Tell me, did you choose this path yourself?” The priestess brings her weathered gaze to mine. “My mother—” I start, but then I remember every time Dain tried to get me out of the quadrant, and I face forward as he and Xaden approach their opponents to negotiate weapons. “I chose my life.” “Ah, then it is good we did not complete your dedication.”

“The eyes. I should have recognized your eyes. You’re Asher Daxton’s girl.”

“And you”—the male lowers his gaze to Andarna—“our very hope, have handed this human something far more dangerous to wield, haven’t you?”

“It is not a trade,” the female lectures. “The soul is not kept by the earth as dark wielders steal its magic. The power exchange kills the soul one piece at a time, and death has no cure.”

The squad ushers Lynx down the hall, but I stay behind, shock gluing my feet to the carpet. “I don’t understand. You’re our generation’s shadow wielder.” “Not anymore. Magic knows.” Xaden’s shoulders dip as he turns slowly to face me, his brow scrunching in apology before he schools his features. “He’s the

balance.”

Brennan nods. “He wants to try mending the spot at Basgiath.”

“There is if you’re a dream-walker.”

“There’s no such thing as dream-walking, and the irids told her that she gave me something more dangerous than lightning. It was one of the reasons they were so angry with her.”

“There is such a thing.” Xaden’s voice drops. “It’s absolutely more dangerous than lightning. It’s a form of inntinnsic,” he ends on a whisper.

Asher returned today. Gods help us if anyone finds out. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive him for what he’s done to her. —Journal of Captain Lilith Sorrengail

“Bonds are merely magical ties. You are irid. You are magic. Bend it, shape it, break it as you see fit.”

Sloane wraps her fingers around Dain’s wrist. Her eyes flare, and she swallows. “Someone like you shouldn’t have this much power.”

“Then let us be menaces,” Feirge snarls, her head weaving in anticipation.

I glance past Berwyn, past Sgaeyl and the venin, to my new brother and the unconscious dragon lying in the valley beyond the canyon, guarded by seven wyvern. How could he do this? Choose this after watching me stumble and fall over the last five months. How could he willingly walk the path I’ve fought like hell to leave? He’s the last person I ever would have expected to turn, and yet here we are.

I groggily rise to my feet beside Imogen, and a shape moves in the shadows to the right.