Hatrox leapt from dragonback while Coryza glided over their small camp. He landed with such poise that Zyryxa couldn’t help but be disgusted by how much she admired his power. His twin dragonbone axes sheathed on his back, one fire and one ice, he lifted his eyes toward her and she reached for the haft of her mother’s greataxe. Four drakes lifted their tails, lowered their forms, bared their teeth.


    Hatrox flashed a thin, toothy grin, his blue eyes leering at Zyryxa. “Warrior Zyryxa. I congratulate you on slaying a qione. It must’ve been hard to fight ice incarnate while hauling around all that extra weight on your back.”


    Zyryxa glared at him. “Not that hard. Everybody contributed to our victory.”


    Hatrox’s laughter was sharp with sarcastic cruelty, equally as unnerving as it was intoxicating. Her heart pounded, her palms slicked with sweat, her breathing quickened. Zyryxa hated that he wasn’t as ugly outside as he was inside. She tried to hide it but felt the color rising on her cheeks. He was a perfect ice specimen, exuding untouchable confidence with the power to back it up. She hated this feeling, wanted it to go away, but she couldn’t force down her awe.


    He approached her, wearing that horrible sneer. She felt like he could read her mind, see into her hidden thoughts, both those of disgust and yearning. “I thought you had more pride than that, Warrior Zyryxa? It doesn’t befit a champion-in-the-making to give credit to those underserving.”


    Qoryxa! She freezing despised this man. And yet, he was so divinedamned alluring. She knew he stroked her ego, but he stroked it well enough that she leaned in, their faces nearly pressing together. “A true champion doesn’t need to tear those around her down in order to prove her own worth. I fought well, but so did my brother and sisters.”


    His smile expanded, becoming even less subtly condescending. “One that relies on others is unfit to be champion. She will be challenged and she will fall.” He caressed her cheek sending chills down her spine. “Unlike Natazia, you won’t need others to save you. Come to Riverwatch, Zyryxa, and you will never need to rely on anyone again but yourself.”


    She seized his wrist but she couldn’t remove his hand from her face. Zyryxa strained her muscles to the limit, but his hand wouldn’t budge. She couldn’t recall this feeling, this embarrassment.


    “Don’t hold back,” he said, his voice exhilarant. “You can be better. Show me the champion.”


    Zyryxa roared, channeling embarrassment into anger, drawing on her hatred of this man, pulling on her judgment of one so lacking in compassion. She pushed as hard as she could, unfettered by restraint. His power was tremendous. Moving his hand was like trying to make the world shift. Yet shift it did. Zyryxa’s created just enough separation that his fingers were drawn off her face. Her muscles burning as if in the heart of an inferno, Zyryxa’s strength gave out. His hand reclaimed her, gripping her head. His power was remarkable.


    “Remarkable,” Hatrox said, barren of sarcasm. “You are the one I’ve been waiting for. Come to me, and I will show you how to harness your power. Stay with me, and you will become the greatest champion Volqor has ever seen.” His hand slipped from her face.


    A part of her was hungry to feel it again, eager to impress him. But she refused to give him what he wanted. “A champion doesn’t need to rely on anyone,” she said. “I don’t need you, Hatrox. I don’t want you.”


    That mischievous grin returned, lighting his face. Her stomach fluttered. He ran his hand through her hair. More shivers down her spine. She knew this arousal wasn’t good for her, but something about him set her off. She couldn’t repel his confidence, confidence that he could obviously back up.


    “You can lie to yourself,” Hatrox said, “but you can’t lie to me. I can see the color on your cheeks, the sweat on your palms. I feel the quickening of your heart,” he traced his finger down her chest, between her breasts. She felt hot inside. Zyryxa tried to calm her breathing, to little avail.


    “You want me, Zyryxa, and soon enough that want will become a need. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I’m the only one who can. Together, we will push each other to heights that no man or woman have ever climbed to. We will reshape Volqor, the world. You would be a legend revered for millennia, as worshipped as Qoryxa herself.”


    He lowered his hand. She twitched at his absence, catching herself before she reached for it, stretching toward those promises. She did want him: his power, his confidence, even his body. Most of all, she wanted to be the transcendent champion he promised she’d become. She’d destroy Saevah, claim the tribe from Vaztyma, crush Faxiq, destroy Hatrox himself, become the most legendary figure in Volqori history. But at what cost? Would her mother still be proud of her if she went down the road of the one man she warned her to avoid?


    “No,” she said, resisting temptation. “Not happening.”


    Hatrox laughed. He tut-tutted, shaking his head with that arrogant sneer. He shifted his attention to the two tents. “All this time and none of your siblings have come to greet me. I’d almost think they’re afraid.” He flashed his toothy grin.


    “You should leave. Now,” Zyryxa said, crossing her arms.


    “No,” he said, flashing his teeth. “Not happening.” He winked.


    Zyryxa took out a strip of yak jerky, sat at the fire, her back to Hatrox, and ate. She wouldn’t give this man anymore satisfaction. Coryza circled the sky above, a dark shadow in the night.


    Hatrox didn’t take her bait, moving on to weaker prey. “Oh, Natazia!” He sniffed the air. “I know you’re here, Natazia! How many of your underlings do you owe your life to today?”


    Natazia didn’t come out of her tent, didn’t even call out to defend herself. She hid, a soft whimper emerging from her hiding place.


    Hatrox chuckled. “How pathetic.” He crouched across the fire from Zyryxa. She turned away from him. “How can you serve under one such as her?” he asked, loud enough that anyone in the tents could hear. “Serve those who are weak and you will become weak.”


    Zyryxa twisted her head, met his exhilarant gaze. “She served under you. Makes sense now.”


    His lips rose twisting the grin into a full smile. “The strong cannot forge greatness from one who possesses none.” He stood, facing Natazia’s whimpers. “Natazia came to me as nothing. I made her into a worthy warrior but when I pushed her toward the heights, I saw that she would never fly for she had no wings. You cannot turn nothing into something.” He leered at Zyryxa. The way he spoke, the magnetism, the charm, like staring into a destructive storm, she couldn’t look away. “But you can make something into something greater.”


    He paced toward Natazia’s tent. “Keep hiding, Natazia. Zyryxa will carry you as far as she is willing, but even she will abandon you once she grasps how weak you are.” He turned back to Zyryxa. “I guarantee she has already thought about leaving you. Perhaps she even hoped the qione would finish you today.”


    Zyryxa’s lips twitched, she averted her eyes. But he saw it. Zamael’s Scythe! He’d cut into their division, severing everything he could reach.


    Hatrox laughed. “We all know who the true leader of this brood is. For if it was Natazia, the rest of you would already be dead. Like every broodmate she’s ever led into battle. Isn’t that right, Tazi!” He laughed. “Every. Single. One.”


    He beamed, triumphant. “Is that why the other two aren’t showing themselves? Did Natazia already fail them?”


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Zyryxa stormed to her feet, stomped toward him, lifted her fist. “Don’t you talk about them! I’ll—”


    She bit off her threat, catching her rage before it ruined everything. Her hand opened, fell. She glared at him, but knew she didn’t have any bite that could pierce him.


    “I wonder why,” Hatrox said, leaning in toward her, “you protect them, but not Natazia.”


    “I protect everyone in my brood.”


    Hatrox raised his eyebrow. “Your brood? Not Natazia’s?” That divinedamned sneer. Zyryxa’s hands closed into fists, but she kept them at her side. Barely.


    Zyryxa said nothing. He was right. She did see this as her brood. She did protect Lexyn and even Pelzyq more than she did Natazia.


    “So quiet,” Hatrox said, his voice a soft whisper. “You rushed to defend the others but not Natazia? Why do you care about her less?”


    “I care about everyone equally,” Zyryxa said, managing to get the lie through clenched teeth.


    He spread his arms out. “I’m convinced.”


    “Good,” Zyryxa spat, ignoring his sarcasm.


    He chuckled. “You aren’t at all disappointed in Natazia. She never lets you down, never is envious of you, never cowers while you fight her battles.”


    Zyryxa held his gaze, crossed her arms, and refused to let him bully her into saying what they both knew. The fire hissed as he held his ground too, neither of them willing to be the first to blink. Zyryxa held, resolute, until scuffling at the other tent snapped her focus to the side.


    Lexyn looked out, paler than usual, trembling, but braving Hatrox’s stare.


    Tears brimmed on the edge of Zyryxa’s eyes. Lexyn is safe. A massive weight fell off her shoulders, she let out a deep breath, ridding herself of this mountain of worry that had dragged behind her all day.


    Pelzyq appeared behind Lexyn, wrapping an arm around her. He whispered something in her ear, but she shook her head, mouthed, “No.”


    Lexyn wasn’t going to hide from Hatrox, she wouldn’t leave Zyryxa to face him alone. As moved as she was by her best friend’s newfound courage, the worries returned. She didn’t doubt that this man would hurt others to get her. She watched him from the corner of her eye, knew that he saw the wetness rimming her eyes, the relief and the fear. This monster didn’t miss much. His lips arched upward.


    “Look at you,” Hatrox said. “So precious. So pure! You would stand up for Natazia when she would fail you again and again.”


    “Go away.”


    Hatrox laughed at Lexyn’s mousy threat as if he’d just witnessed the most hilarious joke. He laughed into Zyryxa’s face, that sneer saying loudly that he knew where Zyryxa’s weakness was.


    She clenched her fists, squeezing so hard they hurt. She couldn’t keep her breathing calm no matter how much she tried to steady herself. She looked away from him, trying to ignore him. It would have been easier to ignore a dragon biting for her head.


    Pelzyq stepped between Hatrox and Lexyn. “Get out of here before—”


    “Before what?” Hatrox asked, striding toward them. “What will you do, boy?”


    Coryza roared above. Even though he was shorter than Pelzyq, Hatrox stood taller. Pelzyq slumped, his lip quivered.


    “What will you do?” Hatrox repeated. “I’m waiting.”


    Pelzyq looked away from him.


    Hatrox snorted. “That’s what I thought.” He flashed his teeth at Lexyn. “So adorable. I can see why Zyryxa likes you the most. But what do you see in this ugly boy? He can’t even finish his sentences, let alone protect you.”


    “Leave them alone,” Zyryxa said, drawing her axe.


    “There she is!” Hatrox said, spreading his arms. She hated that sneer so much she wished she could slice it off his chiseled face. He leaned toward her, daring her to swing. “They’re nothing to me.” He left the rest unsaid. The only one I want is you.


    Zyryxa didn’t release her grip on her axe when he backed away. Hatrox paced outside of Natazia’s tent. Within, her muffled whimpers were incessant. Zyryxa understood that Hatrox was a monster, knew that her mother’s warnings were well-spent, but Natazia’s lack of pride was a disgrace. How could she respect a broodleader that hid and cried when the rest of them were out here facing him?


    “Last chance, Natazia,” Hatrox said. “Prove me wrong. Show your faithful brood that you are worthy of their faith. Come on out.”


    “Face him,” Zyryxa said. “Show him your strength.”


    Hatrox beamed at her. He shook his head. “We’ve been over this, have we not? She was weak, is weak, and always will be weak. Isn’t that right, Natazia!”


    The glee as he spoke unnerved her. The taste of sadism on his tongue, the fear of others, was arousing to him. His blue eyes burned with ecstasy as he taunted her more. “I’m going to count to ten, little Tazi, and if you don’t come out…” he left the rest unsaid, letting her use her imagination to fill in the blank.


    “You’re sick,” Zyryxa whispered, clenching her axe. Louder, she shouted, “Face him, Natazia. Show him who is nothing.”


    “Ten. Nine. Eight.”


    Zyryxa felt the last vestiges of her respect dying. Both for Natazia and Hatrox. She was weak and he was vile.


    “You can do it,” Lexyn said. “We believe in you.”


    Hatrox laughed. “No, Natazia. They don’t! They don’t believe in you. They pity you. Pitiful Natazia! So weak that others must pretend there is something worthwhile left inside of you. Seven. Six.”


    “You’re evil,” Pelzyq said. “A monster. There was nothing wrong with her before you.”


    Hatrox chuckled. He laughed. He laughed so hard he wiped his eyes when he was done. “I’m sorry,” he said with mock sincerity. “Did you say something?”


    “You’re evil,” Pelzyq repeated.


    “Oh. I suppose you’re good then? The goodest boy there ever was! A beacon of morality and wholeness and all things weak! Let’s see how long that keeps you alive.”


    Hatrox hesitated, leaving space for Pelzyq to challenge him. “Five. Four.”


    “Face him, Natazia!” Zyryxa demanded.


    Within the tent, Natazia’s whimpers had grown into sobs. Zyryxa shook her head. She wasn’t surprised. She was just disappointed.


    “Three! Two!”


    How could she rely on someone who wouldn’t defend herself? How could she trust a person to be there for her when she broke into this pathetic, envious, cowering creature at a word out of this man’s mouth? She couldn’t. So, Zyryxa stood there, doing nothing when the countdown ended.


    “One!”


    Hatrox tore through the tent barehanded. Natazia lay beneath her blanket, curled up and crying, muttering, “No. No. No.”


    Zyryxa did nothing when Hatrox ripped the blanket away, throwing it to the wind. Coryza roared above, echoing the exultation of its rider.


    She did nothing when Hatrox seized Natazia by the throat, forced her to her feet, and tore through her shredded furs, leaving her scars exposed. Hatrox’s brand, the mark of Coryza forever burned into her chest. “Open your eyes,” he commanded.


    Natazia shook her head, mumbled “No,” to herself, kept her eyes sealed as if not seeing something made it any less real. Zyryxa did nothing when Hatrox pinned her throat in one hand and forced an eye open in his other. Natazia tried to shrink to the ground, gagging as he choked her, trying to shake her head and slam her eyes shut.


    But Hatrox was too strong. “You see this!” he roared. “This is what you are! This is what you’ve always been! This is why you will never be anything!” He tossed Natazia aside, throwing her into the snow. “The only time you were ever something was because of me! Without me, you are nothing but an empty husk clinging to a worthless life being carried forward by your betters.”


    He discarded her, turning his maddened gaze upon Zyryxa. “Everyone one of you knows the truth. You know who among you is worthy of leading. Yet,” he closed his eyes, “you shut your eyes.” He took a deep, disappointed breath, then pointed to Natazia. “Just like her.”


    He knelt by Natazia. Zyryxa held to her axe, but she did nothing.


    “Do them a favor and die already. Set them free, or,” he smirked at Zyryxa, “give them to me.”


    “I’m not yours,” Zyryxa howled. “I’ll never be yours, monster.”


    “Monster?” He didn’t betray any disappointment with his voice or face. He grinned, stepped toward her like a dragon approaching a yak. “I’ll show you monsters, Zyryxa.” He chuckled. “I think you might even be strong enough to show them who the real monster is.”


    Coryza descended, crashing into the ground beside Hatrox. Pelzyq and Lexyn lost their footing, falling into each other. Zyryxa staggered to the side, clinging to her mother’s axe. Natazia wept.


    “I bid you all a very good night,” Hatrox said, rising up the side of his spiked monstrosity. “Don’t plan on sleeping, though. There are monsters out here, after all.”


    Laughing, Hatrox took to the sky.