"Deren!" Sylvanna's voice cracked raw.
He swung, steel bar meeting stone with a bone-thudding clang. The fragment veered, splashing harmlessly into black water. Spray hissed off hot rubble. Deren flashed her a grin that looked too white in this dark. "Still breathing, captain!"
A fresh downdraft slammed the wyvern sideways. Sylvanna's vision filled with sparks as her shoulder snapped against the saddle bark. Pain lanced her arm; lightning fizzed out in ribbons, spraying into the clouds. For a half-breath the world tilted, and she saw twin images: the real forge below and a hallucination hovering just above it—her father, cloak flapping, hand outstretched in welcome. The vision stank of Orvath's meddling. She blinked hard. The phantom guttered like a candle in wind and was gone.
Azra hammered her fist on the saddle. "We need that breach, Sylv!"
"I said—" She sucked air, steadying the storm boiling in her chest. "—not yet!"
