The sky darkened as Jackson guided Levin lower, the wind rushing past his face as they descended over the outskirts of Sebo. From above, the town was a scar on the landscape—blackened fields stretching far beyond the walls, smoke still curling from distant ruins. What should have been a lively border town was now a patchwork of devastation, barely clinging to life.
Jackson’s grip tightened on Levin’s reins, his knuckles pale against the worn leather. <i>I’m too late.</i>
The Pegasus gave a soft, reassuring snort as if sensing his frustration. Jackson leaned forward, patting Levin’s neck gently. “Let’s get down there.”
With a powerful beat of its wings, Levin angled down, circling once before landing lightly in the heart of Sebo’s town square. The sight that greeted Jackson was worse up close. Buildings reduced to skeletal frames of timber and stone. Stalls overturned, goods trampled and forgotten. A half-collapsed bell tower loomed over the town, its once-proud structure broken and leaning.
The few villagers that remained barely glanced up at first, too exhausted or numb to react. But as Jackson dismounted, unbuckling his leather gauntlets, a flicker of hope passed through their weary gazes. Soldiers patrolling the square straightened at the sight of him, their faces pale from days without rest.
A figure approached him—an older man with a limp, leaning on a cane fashioned from gnarled wood. His weathered face was lined with grief, but his eyes still held the sharpness of a man who had endured worse and survived. The elder’s gaze swept over Jackson, then Levin, recognition flickering in his eyes.
“Prince Jackson,” the elder greeted, his voice hoarse but steady. “You’re too late to stop what’s happened, but we’re glad you’re here now.”
Jackson stepped forward, offering his arm in greeting, though the gesture felt hollow given the destruction around them. “I came as soon as I could. What happened here?”
The elder’s eyes shifted toward the scorched horizon, his mouth a thin line. “They came under the cover of darkness—dragons and riders. Not more than a handful, but enough to tear this place apart. We tried to hold them off, but no amount of swords can match dragonfire.”
Jackson’s jaw clenched at the mention of dragons. He recalled the warning from the village leader of Zaria—the whispers of riders appearing where they shouldn’t. His father had dismissed it as rumor. Jackson had hoped it was exaggeration. But seeing Sebo now left no room for doubt.
“Why wasn’t I told sooner?” Jackson asked, his voice low but laced with frustration.
“We sent riders,” the elder replied. “But none made it past the hills.”
Jackson’s eyes darkened, and he nodded. “I’m here now. And I’ll stay until this is over.”
Jackson’s gaze swept the square, locking onto the scattered soldiers, most barely more than boys. They watched him carefully, some standing a little straighter, as if his presence alone was enough to restore order.
“How many men are left to defend the town?” Jackson asked.
“Thirty or so,” the elder replied. “More than half of them wounded. We’ve lost as many to hunger as we have to flames.”
Jackson exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. <i>Not nearly enough.</i>
“Get the soldiers ready,” Jackson instructed. “I want patrols doubled at nightfall. Anyone who can fight will join the guard. We can’t leave the town vulnerable.”
The elder nodded. “And the villagers?”
“I’ll handle them.” Jackson turned toward the gathered crowd.
He stepped forward, raising his voice. “Listen well. I know what’s happened here. You’ve lost your homes, your families—your sense of safety. But I won’t let Sebo fall any further. I will stay and fight alongside you. This town <i>will</i> hold until reinforcements arrive.”
A murmur swept through the villagers, some looking to one another for reassurance. Others nodded, grateful to hear something resembling hope.
“Gather the able-bodied,” Jackson continued. “We’ll need to rebuild defenses, secure supplies, and—”
He paused, eyes catching on a pile of shattered timber near the far side of the square. A faint glow pulsed beneath the wreckage. Jackson strode over, crouching and brushing aside the debris. Buried beneath it was a smoldering pile of stone—hot to the touch, still brimming with the residue of dragonfire.
His hand hovered over the stone, flames flickering faintly at his fingertips. Jackson narrowed his eyes, absorbing the warmth into his palm, snuffing out the remaining heat.
He rose to his full height, turning to face the crowd. “I’ll need every blacksmith, builder, and mage you can spare. We’re constructing wards tonight.”
The elder’s eyes widened. “You can do that?”
Jackson’s lips curved into a faint but determined smile. “I’ve been training for this my whole life.”
As dusk fell, Jackson led the charge, using his fire abilities to melt and reshape the stone. Alongside the town’s blacksmiths and magic users, they began crafting protective wards—simple barriers that, while temporary, would keep dragonfire from consuming what little remained of Sebo.
The villagers followed his orders, lifting stone and rebuilding walls under his guidance. The town that had been on the brink of collapse began to stir with renewed energy.
Jackson worked tirelessly through the night, flames dancing in his hands as he shaped the shields. When he finally stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow, the outer wall shimmered faintly under the moonlight—fragile but standing.
He turned toward Levin, who stood watch at the edge of the square. The pegasus tossed its head proudly, its wings rustling lightly.
Jackson walked over and stroked its mane. “We’ve bought them time, but not much.”
Levin nudged him gently, as if to say that time was enough.
As Jackson looked out over the town, the weight of responsibility settled fully on his shoulders. Sebo wasn’t safe—not yet. The scars of the attack stretched across the land like open wounds, and despite the villagers’ resilience, fear lingered just beneath the surface.
The faint glow of torches flickered along the town’s perimeter, casting long shadows that danced across the broken streets. Each flame was a fragile beacon against the looming darkness beyond the walls.
Jackson let out a slow breath, his gaze fixed on the distant treeline. His hands, still calloused from rebuilding, curled loosely at his sides. <b>There was no telling when the dragons would return, but they would.</b> And when they did, he’d be ready.
Levin stood quietly a few paces away, the pegasus’s silver mane shimmering under the moonlight as if reflecting Jackson’s thoughts.
With one last glance at the town square—where villagers gathered in small clusters, whispering their hopes and fears—Jackson stepped away, heading toward the outer wall. The cool night air wrapped around him, and the further he walked, the heavier the silence grew.
The night was draped over Sebo like a shroud. The torches along the wall flickered weakly against the wind, their flames barely holding back the weight of the dark. Jackson came to a stop near a half-repaired section of stone, resting a hand on the cold surface as he leaned into it.
In his palm, the communication orb hummed softly, its surface smooth and cool against his skin. Jackson held it up, his reflection distorted in the glassy surface. He hesitated for a moment, thumb brushing over the small cracks that lined the edges. This orb had been with him for years, through countless missions, but tonight it felt heavier—almost fragile.
Taking a breath, he activated the orb with a flick of his wrist. A faint golden glow blossomed across its surface, spreading outward in a ripple of light that danced over his hands. Slowly, the outline of his father’s face began to form, hazy at first, before sharpening into focus.
“Father,” Jackson said, his voice steady but low.
The king sat within his war chamber, clad in dark robes, with his crown resting on the table beside him. His hair, streaked with silver, framed a face worn by years of ruling. Despite the faint lines creasing his brow, his gaze was as piercing as ever.
“Jackson,” the king greeted, his tone calm. “Report.”
Jackson shifted, standing a little straighter. “Sebo is worse than I expected. The town’s barely holding together. Homes are gone, fields burned… the people are tired. We’ve done what we can to secure the perimeter, but if another attack comes before reinforcements arrive, I don’t know if the defenses will hold.”
The king’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. For a long moment, he said nothing, and Jackson could hear the faint crackle of a fire in the background.
“They came on dragons,” Jackson added, breaking the silence. “Just as the village elder in Zaria warned. I saw the scorch marks myself. If this continues…”
“I know,” his father interrupted, his voice grim. “I believe you.”
The admission surprised Jackson. His father had been dismissive of the initial reports, brushing them off as exaggerations from frightened border towns. For him to acknowledge the threat now meant the situation was more severe than Jackson realized.
“Reinforcements are on the way,” the king continued, his tone softening slightly. “But they won’t arrive for several days. Sebo needs you now. Hold the line, Jackson. Protect the people until help arrives.”
Jackson exhaled slowly, lowering his head as the weight of those words settled on his shoulders. <i>Hold the line.</i>
He had always known responsibility would fall to him one day—he was the eldest prince, after all. But standing in the middle of a broken town, surrounded by faces filled with exhaustion and fear, the weight of leadership felt suffocating.
Jackson looked back at the town square from his vantage point. Villagers huddled together in small clusters, their murmurs faint under the hum of the communication orb. Soldiers sat around makeshift fires, sharpening blades or nursing wounds. All of them were waiting. Waiting for someone to tell them everything would be all right.
His father’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I know this isn’t easy. But I trust you, Jackson. You were born for this.”
Jackson’s grip tightened on the orb. He wanted to believe that. But deep down, the lingering thought of failure haunted him. What if Sebo fell under his watch? What if the dragons returned before reinforcements arrived?
“Do whatever you must,” the king added after a pause. “The town’s survival rests in your hands.”
Jackson nodded, straightening his posture. “Understood. I’ll hold them off for as long as it takes.”The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
The orb dimmed as the connection severed, leaving Jackson standing alone beneath the stars. The faint hum died away, replaced by the crackling torches and distant whispers of the night watch.
For a long moment, he didn’t move. He let the silence wash over him, staring out at the darkened horizon beyond Sebo’s gates.
Levin, his Pegasus, stood nearby, flicking its tail as it watched him. The creature’s large, intelligent eyes seemed to sense his unease. Jackson crossed the distance between them, resting his forehead gently against Levin’s neck.
“They’re depending on us, Levin,” Jackson murmured. The pegasus nudged him in response, as if to say <i>we’ll manage.</i>
Jackson smiled faintly, the small gesture grounding him. His father’s words still echoed in his mind, but for now, there was work to do.
He turned toward the town, flames flickering along his fingertips as he prepared to return to the village square. <b>Tomorrow, the town would be stronger than it was today.</b>
---------------
The days that followed Jackson’s arrival in Sebo blurred together, marked by the rhythm of rebuilding, reinforcing, and restless waiting. From dawn until dusk, he worked side by side with the villagers and soldiers—repairing scorched walls, digging trenches, and erecting makeshift barricades. His fire danced at his fingertips, melting down twisted iron and reshaping beams of splintered wood, patching what little they could of Sebo’s defenses.
But no matter how hard they worked, the cracks in Sebo’s armor remained. Jackson could see it in the faces of the people—the way they flinched at distant noises, how their eyes lingered too long on the skies as if expecting shadows to descend at any moment.
As each evening fell, the warmth of the day slipped away, leaving behind an uneasy chill that crept through the village.
The moon hung high over Sebo on the fourth night, bathing the town in pale silver. Jackson sat atop Levin at the edge of the perimeter, the pegasus shifting beneath him, wings half-extended as if restless from the stillness. Below, the faint glow of torches lined the path of the outer wall, casting flickering halos that barely pierced the darkness beyond.
Jackson’s gaze swept across the horizon, his eyes narrowing at every shift in the shadows. Nothing stirred in the fields, but that did little to ease the tension coiling in his chest. The silence was too perfect—too absolute.
He ran his gloved fingers through Levin’s mane, the strands of silver hair smooth under his touch. “See anything?” he muttered, eyes fixed on the distant hills.
The pegasus snorted softly, ears twitching forward. Jackson had learned to trust Levin’s instincts. The creature had carried him through countless battles, sensing danger long before Jackson could put words to the feeling.
But tonight, Levin remained still.
The air was heavy, and Jackson hated it. The quiet felt less like peace and more like a breath being held, waiting to break.
As Jackson guided Levin along the perimeter, a figure approached from the far side of the wall. One of the soldiers—an older man with greying hair peeking beneath his helmet—stood watch, gripping his spear with knuckles white from the cold.
The man stepped aside to let Jackson pass, but the prince pulled Levin to a halt.
“Trouble?” Jackson asked quietly.
The soldier hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the empty expanse beyond the town. His brows furrowed, and he adjusted his grip on the spear as if the question itself unsettled him.
“They’re out there,” the soldier said at last, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His eyes never left the dark horizon. “I can feel it.”
Jackson followed the man’s gaze toward the distant mountains, where faint outlines barely kissed the night sky. The soldier’s words lingered in the cold air, the kind of warning born from experience rather than paranoia.
“I know,” Jackson replied after a pause. His tone carried no dismissal, only agreement.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the soft creak of the wind tugging at the watchtower banners and the faint rustle of Levin’s wings as he shifted.
The soldier exhaled, loosening his grip but not his stance. “I’ve served long enough to recognize when the air turns sour. This calm… it’s unnatural.”
Jackson nodded, tightening the reins slightly as Levin’s wings tucked closer to his sides. “Stay sharp. We don’t know when they’ll come, but they will.”
The soldier saluted, and Jackson nudged Levin forward, continuing his patrol along the wall.
As the final torch along the perimeter flickered in his wake, Jackson cast one last look toward the mountains. Clouds stretched lazily over their peaks, obscuring the moon’s glow, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw movement among the trees—just the faintest ripple of shadows shifting.
Or perhaps it was nothing.
But Jackson didn’t believe in tricks of the light.
“Let them come,” Jackson murmured under his breath, more to himself than to Levin. “We’ll be ready.”
----------
The night lay heavy over Sebo, draped in an oppressive quiet that felt almost unnatural. Jackson sat atop the half-repaired battlement, eyes fixed on the horizon as the wind whispered softly through the broken town. The torches lining the perimeter flickered weakly, their flames barely holding back the weight of the encroaching dark.
Levin stood nearby, the silver mane of Jackson’s Pegasus shimmering faintly under the moonlight. Every so often, Levin’s ears twitched, nostrils flaring as if searching the air for something unseen.
And then it came—the faintest rustle of wind that didn’t belong.
Jackson’s eyes narrowed, his head tilting slightly. Levin shifted restlessly beside him.
Another breeze, but this time it wasn’t the wind. It was the unmistakable sound of wings.
The first scream shattered the night’s calm.
Jackson turned sharply, eyes darting toward the western edge of Sebo. Silhouettes sliced through the sky, their massive forms blotting out the stars as they descended. Dragons.
Their dark shapes spiraled down from the clouds, fire pooling in their throats before cascading onto the outer edge of Sebo like molten rain.
“TO ARMS!” Jackson bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. “DRAGONS!”
Jackson didn’t hesitate. In a single fluid motion, he was on Levin’s back, the pegasus spreading its powerful wings wide. Soldiers below scrambled to position, grabbing weapons and rushing toward the ballistas mounted along the perimeter.
Levin kicked off the ground, wings slicing through the air as they shot upward. Jackson’s heart pounded in his chest, but adrenaline sharpened his senses. As they gained altitude, he caught sight of three dragons circling overhead—shadows streaking against the pale light of the moon.
Fire erupted below as one of the dragons broke formation, diving toward Sebo’s southern gate.
“Not tonight,” Jackson growled under his breath, guiding Levin forward.
A burst of flames erupted from his palm, blazing bright as it streaked through the air toward the diving dragon. The fire exploded along its scaled hide, causing the beast to veer off course with a furious screech.
The remaining dragons descended in unison, their roars rattling the stone walls below.
Jackson urged Levin higher, the air thinning as they climbed to meet the incoming threat. Another dragon twisted toward them, its amber eyes glowing like molten gold as it spat a column of fire in their path.
“Levin—left!” Jackson shouted.
The pegasus banked hard, narrowly avoiding the torrent of flame. Jackson spun in his saddle, flames curling around his hand before launching a counterattack. His fire struck the dragon’s wing joint, searing through its scales and eliciting a guttural roar.
Levin surged forward, wings beating hard as they cut through the air, weaving between the dragons like a shadow. Below, ballistas fired, enchanted arrows glowing blue as they arced toward the circling beasts. One arrow struck true, piercing a dragon’s wing and sending it spiraling toward the ground.
Jackson twisted his head, locking eyes with the largest of the dragons—easily twice the size of the others. Its scales shimmered like obsidian, and fire pulsed from its jaws as it charged straight for him.
Jackson braced as the alpha dragon closed the distance, its massive wings darkening the sky around them. Levin let out a fierce cry, and Jackson’s flames roared to life, swirling around his fists.
The dragon lunged, talons slashing through the air. Jackson ducked low, pressing against Levin’s neck as they skimmed under the beast’s claws. Fire erupted behind him, searing the tip of his cloak.
Jackson twisted, thrusting his palm toward the dragon’s chest. A jet of white-hot fire exploded forward, slamming into the dragon’s scales. It recoiled, snarling as embers danced across its hide.
“Keep going!” Jackson urged Levin, guiding them higher.
But the alpha dragon wasn’t done. It circled back, fire spilling from its mouth as it prepared to unleash another attack.
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. Let’s end this.”
He summoned a sphere of flame, larger and brighter than before. Levin banked sharply, charging directly at the dragon’s open maw. Jackson released the fire at the last moment, sending it hurtling into the dragon’s mouth.
The resulting explosion sent shockwaves rippling through the sky. The dragon roared in pain, its flight wavering as it veered off, retreating toward the distant mountains.
On the ground, soldiers fought to repel the smaller dragons that remained. The enchanted ballistas fired relentlessly, each shot striking with deadly precision. Jackson dove low, unleashing arcs of fire that carved paths through the air, scattering the remaining threats.
One dragon landed near the village square, its tail smashing through a half-rebuilt home. Soldiers rushed forward, spears and blades glinting in the firelight. Jackson soared overhead, casting a curtain of flame between the dragon and the villagers, forcing it to retreat.
Within minutes, the last of the dragons pulled back, their screeches echoing into the distance as they vanished into the night.
Jackson landed in the town square, dismounting as Levin folded his wings tightly against his sides. Sweat trickled down Jackson’s brow, his breathing heavy, but relief washed over him as he looked around.
The damage was evident—several homes bore new scars of fire, and parts of the wall had been reduced to rubble—but Sebo still stood.
As he scanned the square, the elder approached, his eyes wide with gratitude. “You drove them back.”
“For now,” Jackson replied, his gaze lingering on the sky. “They were testing us. Next time, they’ll bring more.”
He turned to the soldiers, his voice firm. “Double the patrols. Repair the defenses by morning. This isn’t over.”
And as the villagers returned to their homes, Jackson stood beneath the stars, his hands still tingling with the lingering heat of battle.
-------------
The first pale light of dawn crept over Sebo’s broken rooftops, chasing away the lingering shadows of the night’s battle. Smoke still curled lazily from the scorched edges of homes, and the faint smell of burning wood hung heavy in the air.
Jackson stood at the edge of the village, watching as the sky shifted from deep indigo to soft amber. His cloak was damp with morning dew, but he hadn’t bothered to rest. There wasn’t time.
Below him, the town slowly stirred to life. Villagers emerged from their homes, some carrying buckets of water to douse the last smoldering embers, others dragging charred beams away from collapsed structures. Soldiers limped through the streets, some still bandaging wounds while others replaced broken spears and arrows.
But despite the destruction, Sebo stood.
Levin shifted beside him, nudging Jackson’s shoulder with his muzzle.
“I know,” Jackson muttered, reaching up to stroke the pegasus’s mane. “We’ve got work to do.”
With a sharp exhale, Jackson descended the steps from the ruined battlements and strode toward the village square, where the remaining soldiers had begun to gather.
Jackson’s voice carried across the square as he addressed them, his tone calm but commanding. “We held them off last night, but this isn’t over. They’ll be back. Stronger, and in greater numbers.”
His eyes swept across the faces of the soldiers—men and women hardened by exhaustion but still standing with quiet determination.
“We won’t get another warning,” Jackson continued. “Which means we need to reinforce Sebo today. I want barriers erected around the town. Wards. Stone walls. Whatever we can manage.”
One of the captains, a grizzled man with a scar across his cheek, stepped forward. “The wards won’t last forever, Your Highness. They drain quickly.”
Jackson nodded. “They don’t have to last forever. They just need to buy us enough time.”
The soldiers murmured among themselves, but there was no hesitation in their eyes. They trusted him—and Jackson would not fail them.
By midday, teams of soldiers and villagers spread out along the town’s perimeter, gathering stones and salvaging materials from what little remained intact. Jackson led a small group of magic users to the outer walls, where they began carving runes into the stone.
Jackson knelt by the entrance gate, flames flickering softly around his fingertips as he etched glowing symbols into the wood. Each rune hummed faintly, trailing embers along the edges before sinking deep into the grain. As he worked, the faint outline of a barrier began to shimmer just beyond the gate, rippling like a mirage in the morning light.
A young mage knelt beside him, watching closely. “I didn’t know fire users could create wards like this,” she said, her voice cautious but curious.
Jackson smirked faintly, continuing his work. “It’s not something they teach in the capital. I had to figure this out the hard way.”
The runes pulsed brighter as Jackson pressed his palm against the finished symbols. A soft thrum echoed outward, and the protective barrier solidified, forming a faint, fiery shield that arched over the gate.
“It’s crude,” Jackson admitted, wiping sweat from his brow. “But it’ll hold.”
As the afternoon wore on, the barriers extended around Sebo, flickering in patches of orange and gold. Where the wards could not reach, soldiers raised wooden spikes along the borders, reinforcing gaps in the outer wall with scavenged stone.
Jackson moved through each section, helping where he could—lifting beams with Levin’s strength, guiding magic users, and overseeing the archers as they assembled along the higher points of the wall.
He paused by one of the western watchtowers, where archers tested their bows, replacing strings that had snapped during the night’s battle.
“We’ll need watch rotations,” Jackson said, addressing the group. “I want someone on the walls at all hours. If anything approaches—be it dragon or rider—I expect to know immediately.”
The head archer saluted. “Consider it done, Your Highness.”
By evening, the last of the wards shimmered into place, encasing Sebo in a fragile dome of light. Jackson stood at the edge of the perimeter, hands resting on the hilt of his sword as he watched the barriers flicker faintly.
The defenses weren’t perfect. He knew that. The wards would falter with time, and the dragons would eventually find a way through. But for now, Sebo had a fighting chance.
Raven, one of the younger soldiers, approached him with a weary smile. “It’s not much, but it’s starting to look like Sebo again.”
Jackson returned the smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ll make sure it stays that way.”
Raven followed Jackson’s gaze toward the horizon, where the distant mountains loomed like silent sentinels. “Do you think they’ll come back tonight?”
Jackson didn’t answer immediately. He could feel it—the faint pulse of danger lingering just beyond the edge of his senses.
“They will,” Jackson said quietly. “But not tonight.”
He placed a hand on Raven’s shoulder. “Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
As Raven nodded and walked away, Jackson remained by the wall, his eyes never leaving the sky.
<b>Let them come,</b> he thought. <b>Sebo will stand, and I will make sure of it.</b>
<b></b>
<b>--------------------</b>
<b></b>