Night of the Storm: An Epic Fantasy Novel (The Eura Chronicles Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

his neck and squeezed his eyes shut.
    The metal heated. A bright light filled the entire sky, and his descent came to a stop. He felt something sleek beneath him. Something massive.
    “Master,” Vleta, his dragon said. She soared through the air. An ancient power had been summoned: a frightfully large black and gold dragon, the secret weapon of the Tryans.
    Wilem sighed with relief and held onto Vleta’s thick-scaled neck.
    Ved’s sword fell past Wilem’s face. Wilem gasped and grabbed it. He had an idea, but no time to waste. He held the sword in his hands and called the power of Creation.
    He didn’t know what he was making exactly. But out of desperation, he turned the sword into light that made their surroundings glow.
    Wilem grimaced, feeling something jerk around inside him. Then, his eyes widened, and he shrieked when the bright sword carried him and Vleta higher.
    Wilem looked down at the ground as it grew farther and farther away in shock. He cut through clouds and soared upward like a bird.
    “What is going on?” he asked Vleta.
    Vleta seemed unsurprised as the power of the sword catapulted them higher into the night sky. She spoke clearly, calmly. “You are a Legacy, Master. You now have every ability your clan once had. Every power. Every trait. All is yours.”
    With a dull clicking sound, the elf reappeared from the sphere. The bright light was so intense that it made Wilem wince.
    Wilem covered his eyes and peered through his fingers to see the elf grab Ved by the neck with one arm and reach for his dagger with the other. Wilem swung the glowing sword at the elf and sliced through his arm. Wilem gasped, and the elf shouted out in pain.
    Ved slipped free.
    The elf’s arm bled, hacked completely through with one blow. Ved flew behind and took the chance to stab him in the back with his sword. A loud screech erupted from the elf’s mouth before his dying body was carried away by its wyvern, down into the darkness and clouds.
    “Are you all right?”
    Ved nodded quickly as he stared at Vleta with uncertainty.
    “And you, Wilem?”
    “I’m cold!”
    The fairy turned blue but didn’t seem to mind the cold of their high elevation. Wilem, on the other hand, felt so cold that he wanted to simply close his eyes and sleep. He rested his head against Vleta’s warm neck.
    “Don’t worry, you will be warm again soon. Just hold onto the dragon and don’t let go.”
    The air grew warmer when Vleta flew a little lower and Wilem was much more comfortable. His heart still pounded with adrenaline, and he was sure that was why he’d survived the intense cold above the clouds.
    Wilem had killed one Shadow Elf, rescued his best friend and saved a fairy warrior. What he had done with Ved’s sword still vexed him. Never had he been able to do such things. His father could Create better than anyone, and make things catapult him into the air. Maybe he inherited that skill.
    Legacy.
    That word finally meant something.
    “Where are we going?” What does it matter? Wilem thought. No place is safe. His hands began to thaw, his fingers stiff like ice.
    “We need to get you and Jorge to Alfheim. Queen Aria will be there waiting for you.”
    Wilem’s nose scrunched up. “Who is Queen Aria?”
    “Prince Liam’s mother.”
    Wilem’s face softened. He missed Liam. He’d never felt as safe as he did when Liam was around. Maybe Liam’s mother could make him feel the same, but he was afraid to get his hopes up.
    “What’s happening down there?” Wilem hoped that Lady Evee was safe.
    She was always so nice to him all of the time. She always made sure he and Jorge had enough food to eat, and that the fairy boys would include them in games. He would hate to see anything bad happen to the fairy queen.
    “Kyril is falling apart. This is no longer our home.”
    Wilem sighed. His hair blew in his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut to keep the strands out. “Home is a word that means nothing to me anymore.”
    “Do not