#2 The Extraction

Zephyr Sylvaran POV

The ceiling above her cell was reinforced with obsidian veined stone, anti magic sigils, and a rune seal etched by what had to be a paranoid virgin with authority issues. Cute. I blew a hole through it in three seconds flat.

Wind roared through the rupture, carrying smoke and dust and the soft static hum of divine magic as I dropped into the cell like a goddamn avenging angel. I was already annoyed, covered in grime and smelled like prison warding and disappointment.

I had a perfectly sharp, rude comment locked and loaded for the brat I was about to save. And then I saw her. She was standing dead center in the cell, her hands gripping the iron bars like she was the one trapping the world out.

Her skin was golden and glowing faintly in the low light, speckled with freckles like the gods went ham with a paintbrush. Curls of molten auburn red hair framed her face like wildfire. And her eyes....Fucking radioactive green. She had piercings and attitude. Power coiled under her skin like it was daring you to try her. And her ears...Long. Royal fae length. She was not lowborn. And her chest....Okay. Yeah. I paused. Briefly. Totally by accident. She was breathtaking. And I forgot every single godsdamned word I was about to say.

I stood there with my mouth half open. My wings were twitching like they didn’t know what to do with themselves. My brain was fully buffering. She blinked once, then tilted her head, smirking like she knew.

“Stop staring at my tits, Blondie,” she said, her voice all sharp edges and sass. “Let’s get on with this rescue.”

My jaw snapped shut. The fucking audacity. “She wishes I was looking at her tits,” I muttered to myself. Even though I totally was. “No one is looking at your tits, fire crotch.”

Yeah. That landed like a blade. Her expression went from amused to murderous in 0.6 seconds. Her fists clenched. Her eyes narrowed. “Call me that again and I’ll feed you your fucking balls, bro.”

There it is. I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Loud and full throated. It echoed off the walls loudly.

“You’re cute when you threaten dismemberment,” I said, stepping closer.

“Now shut up and hold on.”

“Wait, what the fu....”

Too late. I grabbed her waist, holy shit, soft, and launched straight up through the hole I’d made, my wings flaring hard, the wind howling as the prison blurred below us.

She screamed. Like, full body shriek. "Put me the FUCK down, wing boy!”

“Hard pass.”

“ASSHOLE!" She screeched.

Cute. She kept thrashing until we cleared the tower and the full sky opened above us, purple and silver with the first stars bleeding through dusk. The wind hit us hard, colder now, and sharper. Then she did it, she clutched me. Arms tight around my neck. Head pressed against my shoulder. Her heartbeat pounding against mine like a war drum. Her breath catching. Her body trembling, but not from fear. From magic. Her power was waking up again.

I could feel it humming under her skin like a spell half whispered. And I…I liked it. I shouldn’t. But godsdamn me, I did.

She looked up at me once, her face half lit by starlight, and I swear to all the dead pantheon, something clicked. She is not what I expected. She is so much worse. And I am so fucked.

Rowyn Vale POV

I am going to kill him. Actually, no. First, I’m going to kick him in the face. Then I’m going to punch him in the throat. Then I’m going to kill him. Because apparently that’s how my life works now. One minute I’m counting cracks in a prison wall, waiting to be executed by breakfast, and the next? I’m flying through the fucking sky, clutched against the annoyingly perfect chest of a winged fae boy with a jawline sharp enough to commit war crimes over and a personality I’d describe as “deserved to be slapped at birth.”

How the fuck did I end up in situations like this? I swear I was just trying to survive. And now here I was, wind screaming past my ears, stars swirling overhead, and this infuriating himbo’s arms wrapped around me like we were in some tragic ass romance novel.

I should have been panicking. I should have been screaming again. But instead… I was seething. Internally combusting. And unfortunately, very unfortunately, my body was reacting in ways I am not okay with. Because he smelled good. Like storm charged air and trouble.

And his arms? Solid. Like "picked up a boulder for breakfast" solid. His heartbeat was steady under my palm, and mine was a fucking riot. And don't even get me started on the heat where his hand was gripping my waist. I hated him. I hated this. I hated my traitor hormones most of all. We flew for what felt like hours. I’m not sure if it was time magic or just that I was stuck in this idiot’s grip so long my rage started to ferment into sexual confusion.

Then he spoke. “Get ready, flame. We’re about to pass through the magical barrier that separates the fae realm from Eidolon Academy.”

Wait. What. “Magical barrier?” I shouted over the wind. “Excuse me....what the actual fuck?!”

“Relax,” he said, his voice calm and smug like he wasn't carrying a ticking godbomb through the sky.

“It’s just a pocket realm.”

Just. A. Pocket. Realm. Okay sure. Why not. Add that to the list of unhinged shit that happened this week.

“You want to explain what the hell that means?”

He smirked. Shithead. “It’ll be in your welcome packet.”

I could have slapped him. “Anything else I should know before we plummet into another dimension?”

He paused, and shrugged. “The school’s alive.”

I blinked. “Okay but what the fu...”

We hit the barrier like diving through cold lightning. The air ripped. Magic tore through me like static, curling around my bones, scanning, tasting me. For one heartbeat I thought I might throw up or combust again, but then...We were through. And I forget how to breathe.

We descended into a wide, moonlit courtyard carved into what looked like a floating island suspended in starlight. Gardens bloomed in impossible colors. Glowing vines wrapped the archways. A massive stone castle rose ahead, sharp and alive, as if it could breathe. And standing dead center, waiting like some ominous librarian warlord, was a broad shouldered man in collared black robes. His presence hit like gravity. I didn’t know who he was, but I could already tell he was important. And terrifying.

Before I can speak, a portal sliced open beside us, swirling with deep purple and shadow. Two people stepped out. One was a woman in battle armor that looked like it ate people for breakfast. She had a scar down one cheek and the kind of calm that said she ended lives without blinking. The other was a hulking fae man wielding a halberd that hummed with lightning. He didn't look at me. He didn’t need to. His silence was loud enough.

They were here for me. And suddenly, for the first time since I nuked my school, I realized that my life was about to totally fucking change. Welcome to my shit show.