Onyx Storm

The Broken Wards and the Choice Beyond the Border

The wind over the mountain passes of Navarre had changed. Violet Sorrengail could feel it—thinner, colder, laced with something ancient. Ever since the wards began to fail, magic itself had become unstable. And so had trust.

At Basgiath War College, Violet was no longer just a cadet. She was now a seasoned dragon rider, a bonded warrior of flame and thunder. But leadership had its own cost. Her mother’s death, the secrets of Navarre’s leadership, and the reality of the revolution she was now entwined in—it all weighed heavier than any armor.

She stood at the edge of the stone battlements, watching the glow of distant wardlights flicker like a dying constellation. Her dragon, Tairn, let out a low rumble beside her.

“They know we’re weak,” he said through their mental bond.

“And they will come.”

Behind her, Xaden Riorson approached in his silent way. His presence was familiar but no less complicated. His once purely rebellious heart now bore the burn of leadership. A leader of outcasts. Of truth-seekers. Of those who knew Navarre’s walls were built on blood and lies.

“You ready?” he asked.

Violet didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze lingered on the horizon. “We’re flying into uncharted territory. No maps. No guarantees. No backup.”

Xaden shrugged. “Sounds like home.”

They both knew why they had to leave. The Wards—the magical barriers that protected Navarre from the Venin, twisted beings who fed on magic itself—were failing. Entire border towns had fallen. What was worse, the ruling elite denied it. The lie had become law. Anyone who spoke truth became a traitor.

Violet had uncovered the truth at the end of Iron Flame: the enemy wasn’t coming. They were already here. And they were growing stronger with every minute the kingdom remained blind.

There was only one hope left—to seek allies beyond the kingdom. In lands where Navarre had burned bridges and buried truths. To find people who still remembered how to fight the Venin and wield the power of the wards. But to do that, they would have to break every rule and fly beyond the border.

🗡️ The Mission

The mission was simple in theory: cross into forbidden territory, find the rumored wyvern riders—those who'd once mastered dragonkind’s darkest kin—and return with their knowledge.

But war never favors simplicity.

Violet, Xaden, Ridoc, and Rhiannon formed the lead squad. Each carried the weight of their squads, their dragons, and their secrets. And in Violet’s case, something else—a whisper of power that had begun to change her.

As they flew beyond the kingdom’s edge, the skies grew wild. Lightning crackled unnaturally across the clouds. The magic here was untamed. Tairn warned her: the borderlands were not empty—they were haunted by magic that had forgotten its purpose.

It didn’t take long to confirm that.

The wyvern attacked under cover of storm. Unlike dragons, these beasts weren’t intelligent in the same way. They were bred for brutality. And they served the Venin. Violet and Tairn barely dodged the first strike, and the sky erupted into chaos.

She summoned her lightning with a scream, channeling it through the ancient sigil etched into her blade. It crackled with unstable force—just as much a threat to her as it was to the enemy. But she had no choice.

Beneath her, she saw Rhiannon go down—wounded but alive. Ridoc circled to protect her. Xaden, atop his own storm-scarred dragon, was already tearing through wyvern with devastating shadows that answered only to him.

For the first time, Violet truly felt what it meant to be at war—not just with enemies, but with the truth. The Venin weren’t myths. The wyvern weren’t extinct. The wards weren’t holding.

Navarre had lied to them all.

🔥 A Dangerous Alliance

Hours later, the team landed in a ruined city half-swallowed by the forest. But they weren’t alone.

Masked warriors emerged from the shadows—survivors of a forgotten kingdom, one that Navarre had erased from maps. These weren’t just rebels. They were wardmasters. Descendants of the scholars and mages who once maintained the barriers that kept the Venin at bay.

Their leader, a tall woman named Caela, greeted Violet with a blade to her throat.

“You bring dragonfire into a graveyard. Explain yourself.”

Violet, exhausted and bloodied, held her ground.

“We came for answers,” she said. “Because lies are killing my people.”

Caela narrowed her eyes. Then, to everyone’s shock, she lowered the blade.

“Then perhaps you are ready to know what Navarre tried to bury.”

That night, around a fire lit with emerald flame, Violet heard the full truth. The wards had once been powered not just by magic—but by willing sacrifice. They required bonded pairs—dragon and rider—to give part of their essence to fuel the defenses. Navarre had abandoned the practice, sealing away the knowledge, and instead drew magic through force... from the land itself. From the dragons. Even from other people.

That’s why the Venin were growing stronger. The balance was broken. The system was corrupt.

And Violet, with her unstable lightning, might be the only one who could restore what was lost—if she was willing to sacrifice everything.

🕊️ To Return or Remain

When morning came, the choice lay heavy: return to Basgiath and expose the truth, risking execution—or remain with Caela’s people and learn the forbidden ways of the wards.

Xaden was silent as they packed.

“You know they’ll call you a traitor if you go back,” he said.

“I know,” Violet answered. “But I also know the real traitors are the ones who stay silent.”

He touched her arm. “Then I’ll fly beside you. Whatever the storm brings.”

As they mounted their dragons, thunder rolled in the east.

The storm was coming.

But this time, Violet wouldn’t run from it.

She would ride into it.