That night was supposed to be a restful one, a reflective one. It wasn’t. A soft hissing tugged me from my dreams. The sound continued, just ffffffffssssshhhhhh. What in the world was that?

  Then the thud came, followed by a muffled growl, and suddenly my heart was beating at racetrack speeds. The air mattress. Syrin.

  The growl came again. That wasn’t a mattress dying. That was something alive. I bolted out of my bed. I hesitated for a heartbeat at the door. Should I grab my bow?

  I cursed, throwing myself into the hallway. What the heck was I going to do with a bow indoors?!

  I flipped on the hallway light and skidded to a stop as I reached the living room where Syrin’s air mattress was. Syrin looked to be completely out, glowing softly as the air mattress deflated. Scrambling at the sides was a thing with way too many claws.

  It was about the size of a cat, all lean muscle and slick scales. Two horns curled from its narrow skull, smoke trailing faintly from its nostrils like it had swallowed a campfire. It reared up, talons scraping at the vinyl, then dropped back with a startled hiss as the mattress sank again beneath its weight.

  Syrin, miracle that he was, still didn’t wake up. Would he panic if I threw a pillow? The mini dragon hissed again, claws squealing on plastic. The whole mattress sagged another inch.

  I didn’t want to draw its attention without a weapon. Kitchen. Plenty to use there. I bolted. The heavy cast-iron pan that I’d used to grill the chicken was still there drying by the sink. I grabbed it as another hiss sounded. The dragon thing looked afraid of the air mattress. If it hadn’t been…

  I raced back and whacked the creature away from the air mattress. The pan connected with a solid thunk; scales met cast iron, and the thing yowled, skidding across the carpet.

  “Syrin! Wake up.”

  He muttered something in his sleep.

  A golden light appeared in the air, like Syrin’s but wrong, black threading through the gold. Crap. Something else was coming through too?

  “Syrin, please!”

  I kicked at the deflating air mattress.

  “Trina?” He still sounded half asleep.

  “Syrin, there is a frickin’ baby dragon thing trying to kill you! Get up!”

  Syrin’s light flared, a blinding white that filled the room. I kept my eyes on the creature as the sound of Syrin wrestling with the dying mattress filled the room.

  Then there was a pause, and he had the nerve to say, “That’s not a baby dragon. That’s a drakeling.”

  I looked back at him, aghast. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes! They’re attracted to light!”

  The golden shadow light writhed again, collapsing in on itself, and a second drakeling wormed its way out of the collapsing void.

  One of them lunged, and I swung my frying pan again. It yelped as it collided with the metal, but then it let out a little shriek and fire raced across the pan. I dropped the pan, which was probably a mistake. Another bout of fire hit, burning my arm. I held in a cry as the pain hit.

  “Trina!” Syrin said, his voice panicked.

  Then someone else appeared in the hallway—Mom, hair a mess, eyes sharp, a wicked-looking throwing knife in hand.

  She took in the scene in one calm glance, then let the knife fly. It hit the first drakeling clean between the ribs. The creature let out a high, mewling shriek and belched another puff of fire before collapsing to the floor, twitching.

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  I didn’t even have time to celebrate, because the second one was already coming straight at me. Fire streaked toward me again as I grabbed for any kind of weapon—

  And came up with a pillow. Not ideal.

  But before the flames could hit, a wall of bright, coppery light flared in front of me, wrapping around me like a cocoon. The light tightened, hugging close as Syrin stepped forward. For once, he looked furious.

  The drakeling lunged, but Syrin had already grabbed my fallen frying pan and brought it down in a clean arc, knocking the creature back. His hands glowed, light coiling around them as the drakeling spewed fire again.

  And then Mom was there, knife flashing in her hand. She drove it down into the creature’s back. With one last wheezing cry, the drakeling went still, a wisp of fire trickling from its jaws before silence swallowed the room.

  It felt like everyone was holding their breath. My heart was still going a mile a minute, even as the pain in my arm came into focus.

  The light faded from around me, and seconds later Syrin was in front of me. “Trina, I’m so sorry! Let me see your arm.”

  I let out a sharp laugh, edged with pain. “Sorry you’re a heavy sleeper?”

  “No. Maybe. I—” Syrin drew in a sharp breath. “Just let me see it.”

  I lifted my arm, wincing as the movement aggravated the pink skin twisting up toward my elbow. Syrin’s hands were careful as he took it, his fingers hovering just above the burn. His irises turned solid silver.

  I shifted my weight. “It’s alright. It doesn’t hurt that much—”

  He shot me a glare that shut me up immediately. Then he exhaled, slow and steady, and light spilled from his hands. It moved like curling vines, wrapping gently around my arm, following the burn’s path.

  The pain faded first. Then, slowly, the angry red skin shifted to a brilliant gold before dimming back to normal, smooth and whole, as if the burn had never been there at all.

  I stared at my arm, at the place where pain had been a heartbeat ago. “That’s… unfairly impressive.”

  Gold bled into Syrin’s eyes. His lips twitched. “In terms of healing, that wasn’t even that impressive.”

  I whacked him with the arm he’d just been holding.

  “Ouch,” he said, though it couldn’t have really hurt.

  I folded my arms. “You realize you almost slept through a drakeling clawing up your bed, it deflating, and a literal frying pan battle?”

  His cheeks flamed, his glow shifting back to silver.

  Mom cut in. “Trina, did you see what happened?”

  I let out a long breath. “It was like before. The gold light. I’m not sure if that’s just from the portal or Syrin.” I glanced at him.

  He shifted on his feet, eyes downcast.

  “Either way,” I continued, “the gold was threaded through with black. Then it folded in on itself and formed one of those things,” I finished with a nod toward the bodies.

  Mom nudged one of the drakelings with her foot, expression grim. “Probably another test. A scout the first time, just a shadow creature. Now something physical. Something small and expendable. Drakelings are practically rodents in some parts of Talnor.”

  “Pretty sure rodents don’t breathe fire,” I muttered.

  “Maybe alligators are a better comparison,” Mom said, tone edging toward dry amusement. “More dangerous at least.”

  She nudged the drakeling again, grimacing. “I’m going to grab a trash bag,” she said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

  I glanced at Syrin. He was still looking down, shoulders tight. Maybe I’d been too harsh about the sleep thing.

  I stepped a little closer and nudged him. “Hey. I’m not mad.”

  He glanced up at me.

  “But it is sort of funny that you managed to sleep through that.”

  He snorted, and the tension in his posture finally eased. His hand brushed mine for a moment, a soft flicker of warmth before either of us could overthink it.

  Then Mom came back with the garbage bags. Cleaning up was about as fun as the attack was. The air mattress wasn’t salvageable, but it was good for bundling up drakelings. Hopefully, no one checked our dumpster for the carcasses of magical creatures. That would be an insane news story just waiting to happen.

  By the time we finished, it was 4 a.m. Why did all these attacks have to happen so early? For a moment, we all just stood there looking at each other.

  “So… what now?” I asked.

  Mom sank into the armchair, looking exhausted. “I don’t think the drakelings were an accident. Obviously, we already discussed how easy they are to get, but also…”

  “They hunt pixies,” Syrin said quietly. “And I glow. They were bound to attack me.”

  I stiffened.

  Mom just gave a tired nod. “Maybe it was just an experiment, but there are other creatures I would have sent through first.”

  Syrin folded his arms. “They’re still trying to kill me with whatever they can get through.”

  “But we won’t let that happen,” I said sharply.

  Syrin glanced at me, but his glow didn’t even flicker. I wasn’t sure if that was bad or good.

  “I’ll start reading.” Mom said, rubbing her temple. “We take watches.” Syrin let out a sound of protest, but Mom’s look could’ve sliced cloth. “You have to sleep. That’s not optional.”

  His shoulders hunched. “I’m not sure that I can.”

  “Try. We all need to be functioning tomorrow. I’m used to night shifts. Take the couch for now. If you haven’t fallen asleep in an hour, you can take the next watch; otherwise, I’ll wake Trina.”

  Syrin bit his lip, but grabbed a bundle of blankets from the floor, arranging them on the couch as ordered.

  The walk back to my room was longer than it should have been, and as exhausted as I was, it took me far too long to fall asleep.