《Pyre Of Gears: A Tale of Dragons and Thrones [Epic Progression Fantasy, Arc 2 Complete]》 Glossary Glossary of Terms, Names, and Places NOTE: THIS INFO IS HOW IT HAS BEEN TOLD IN THE STORY. SOME OF IT IS WRONG. Prologue: The Scent of Blood Chapter 1: The Scent of Blood The scent of blood hung in the air¡ªthick, metallic, suffocating. High Chief Garrok crouched in the shadows of a jagged crevice. The craggy, decaying walls were a mere dozen feet apart. His kin lay around him, broken and slick with crimson. Their armor unable to hold in the life that leaked into the dirt. The shamans drifted like ghosts among the fallen, chanting quietly to Kaelos. Their hands glowed with essence, flickering weakly, struggling to hold back the death of Garrok''s brothers and sisters. Ragna lay to his right, her massive form stretching over a hundred feet. Her once-majestic red scales were cracked and scarred. The edges of her folded wings scraped against the jagged sides. The shamans pried away the shattered scales, replacing them with plates etched in runes that gleamed faintly in the gloom. Her molten eyes blinked lazily, though her heavy breathing rattled, each exhale a rumble that shook his chest. Garrok¡¯s hands trembled as he wove the last of their essence, pulling at shadows like thread. Cloaking them. Hiding them. Each strand of essence burned through what was left of their reserves. It was like feeding a fire with damp wood¡ªfutile and costly. His knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword. The humans marched above, celebrating their victory, oblivious to the truth buried in these sands. They thought they¡¯d won. But they had no idea. They didn¡¯t know about the caravan, the alliance with the elves, the seeds¡ªlifeblood stolen from under human noses. If discovered, their ruse would spark a war to end all wars, for without those seeds, the orcs and elves¡ªeveryone¡ªwould forever bow to the humans, powerless, starving, and dependent. The humans would tighten their chains, forcing them into submission with unjust deals, hoarding the food that grew only on their lands, in their fields. The thought of humanity''s arrogant grip on the world''s sustenance twisted Garrok¡¯s gut with rage, but he swallowed it down. Rage was a luxury they couldn''t afford. Not yet. He rummaged through a worn leather bag, his fingers closing around the familiar shape of the periscope. The battered metal cylinder gleamed dully in the faint light. The runes carved into its side seemed to stir, awaiting the spark of essence that would bring them to life. He focused his energy, channeling a thread of essence into the runes. The metal rippled, and the cylinder slowly extended, its thickness dwindling as it rose towards the top of the crevice. The periscope reached its full length, two dozen feet of tarnished metal. Through its mirrors, Garrok surveyed the battlefield¡ªa wasteland of charred earth, littered with the twisted bodies of both human and orc. Torn banners flapped weakly in the wind, and broken weapons lay half-buried in the blood-soaked ash. In the distance, the golden fields of wheat swayed gently, untouched by the carnage. Their serene movement a mockery of this hell. Lowering the periscope, he let out a curse at his ancestors. If they hadn¡¯t betrayed Iona¡ªthe Fallen One¡ªthey wouldn¡¯t be here. They wouldn¡¯t be trapped in this dying world, clawing for survival while the gods above mocked them. But what was done was done. The gods erased Iona¡¯s name, twisted her into the monster they now feared. Yet there were the trolls and some of the orcs who remembered. They remembered she was right. That struggle, even through madness, was the path to strength. That¡¯s why they fought. That¡¯s why they scavenged these cursed sands for essence crystals. Why their cities crawled across the dunes on steam engines, barely holding together. The crystals powered everything¡ªthe engines, the cannons, the shields. Without them, they were dust in the wind. He glanced back at Ragna. The shamans had finished their work. Now, they hovered over his soldiers¡ªthose still breathing, those not yet swallowed by the dirt. Broken, but they had fought. They had done their duty. He leaned against Ragna¡¯s flank, her warmth steady against his back. ¡°Soon,¡± he murmured, scratching her chin where the scales were still whole. ¡°We¡¯ll fight again. But not yet. Give the caravan time to reach safety.¡± ¡°Kaelos may watch over us,¡± she rumbled, her voice like grinding stone, ¡°but he won¡¯t save us from this.¡± Garrok scoffed. ¡°True. We can¡¯t rely on him.¡± The words tasted bitter, but he couldn¡¯t afford faith. Not in a god as shattered as the world he claimed to rule. The plan was fragile. They¡¯d sent most of their forces to guard the caravan. The orcs and elves fought side by side, knowing they wouldn¡¯t all make it. The monsters that roamed the Burnt Sea¡ªthe Lesser Spawn and their masters¡ªwould tear through them. But they had to make it. If they couldn¡¯t steal enough seeds, the humans would choke them out in a season. Starvation would do what war could not. They had been a thorn in their side for far too long. The wind shifted, carrying the faint whispers of footsteps, and a familiar figure approached¡ªthe elf mage, Aeristha. She moved like a breeze, her every step soft, yet deliberate. Despite her youthful appearance, she was old¡ªolder than anyone he knew. She was closer to godhood than any other mortal, and there was a weight to her presence that made him uneasy. ¡°High Chief,¡± she said, her voice low, sharp. ¡°The humans are celebrating their victory, but they¡¯re blind. This battle is far from over. And we will win the war.¡± Garrok grunted, scanning the battlefield again. ¡°I¡¯ll call it a victory when my army sees another sunrise.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve taken down ten of their dragon riders. Dozens of griffin riders are dead. You¡¯ve lost eight dragons. Twelve wyverns. By any measure, that¡¯s a win.¡± Garrok snarled, turning to face Aeristha fully. ¡°A win?¡± he spat. ¡°We lost four dragon eggs. They¡¯ll hatch four more riders while we¡¯ve lost four of our own. This won¡¯t change a damn thing.¡± Aeristha stood firm, her eyes locked on his. ¡°This battle will change everything. If the humans discover the caravan, they¡¯ll finish what the monsters start. If we don¡¯t keep them occupied here, we risk losing everything. They¡¯ll rally the dwarves and the goblins with promises of grain, and they¡¯ll drown you in blood.¡± ¡°And what of the soldiers I lost today? My army of twenty thousand reduced to a mere five hundred.¡± The weight of their deaths pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. ¡°You chose the expendable, Garrok. The weak, the politically inconvenient. Better they die buying time for the caravan than starve in the coming winter.¡± ¡°So you would have me sacrifice the rest as bait?¡± ¡°They¡¯re doomed either way, Garrok,¡± Aeristha replied. ¡°Death by steel or death by starvation. Let their deaths have meaning. Let them secure the survival of our people.¡± Garrok turned away, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. "And what of you, Aeristha? Will you stand with us, or vanish like the morning mist?¡± Aeristha didn¡¯t answer immediately. ¡°I¡¯m not here for charity, High Chief,¡± she said, her voice dripping with disdain. ¡°The resources you and the elves have spent on this gamble won¡¯t cover my continued service. The moment Kaelos arrives, I¡¯ll be gone. If you¡¯re lucky, he¡¯ll be sane long enough to help you.¡± A distant thundering noise began to grow, faint yet ominous. Garrok¡¯s heart raced as he searched for the source of the sound through the periscope, dread settling in his gut. There, beyond the horizon, a second human army approached, marching to reinforce their comrades.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Not enough time. Not enough. Tension coiled tight in Garrok''s muscles. Each moment added weight, like a thousand unseen hands were pressing him down. His neck hairs bristled with the primal urge to kneel. Then Kaelos appeared, an impossibly large presence that warped the very air, a force beyond comprehension. Each movement felt like wading through wet ash, each step dragging him deeper into the stifling grip of Kaelos¡¯ power. His legs buckled under the suffocating pressure. He fell to the jagged ash. The earth, eager to claim him, tore at his skin. Kaelos loomed above them, an overwhelming presence that seemed to warp the very air around him. Those still able to move sank to their knees. Their bodies trembled in helpless submission. The shamans pressed their faces into the blood-soaked ground, whispering frantic prayers. The air thickened, heavy with Kaelos'' aura. It was a force so crushing it bent the strongest to their will, snapping them like brittle reeds before an unforgiving storm. Garrok looked up, his breath catching in his throat as he beheld Kaelos¡ªthe Shattered God. His scarred, jagged form normally radiated chaotic energy. But, the scars were dull. They did not leak the dangerous, searing energy that signaled his madness. For now, at least, he was sane. A rare mercy. Everyone knelt. Everyone but Aeristha. Her eyes locked on the god as Kaelos glared at her, molten eyes narrowing. ¡°If I didn¡¯t need your services, I¡¯d crush you,¡± Kaelos rumbled, his voice like thunder. Aeristha raised an eyebrow. ¡°You could try. But the contract is over, and I have more important matters to attend to.¡± With that, she began channeling essence. A gust of wind swirled around her feet, growing stronger, faster. The winds tugged at her cloak, swirling into a tornado that began to lift her, ready to carry her away. Kaelos¡¯ lips curled into a smirk. ¡°I could offer you what you seek¡ªthe secret to godhood. You¡¯ve chased it for centuries.¡± Aeristha hesitated. Her hands lowered, the wind around her falling still. Kaelos¡¯ gaze shifted to Garrok, and the weight of his attention nearly broke him. ¡°You¡¯ve done well, Garrok. But the Ruin Beasts stir beneath the sands. They¡¯re coming for your caravan. Your army will die.¡± Garrok¡¯s throat tightened with dread. Ruin Beasts. The very name sent chills through him¡ªcreatures that could crush armies as if they were nothing more than ash in the wind. ¡°And a third human army marches to join the others,¡± Kaelos continued, his voice low, dangerous. ¡°Use the Skybreaker Cannons. The thunder of them firing will draw the Ruin Beasts here. Let them finish the humans.¡± Garrok opened his mouth to protest, but Kaelos¡¯ power silenced him. His chest constricted, and his vision blurred as the weight of the God¡äs presence pressed down, a crushing wave of inevitability. Then he saw Ragna. Her eyes, unwavering, fixed on his. Slowly, she nodded. Her presence steadied him, pulled him back. Garrok pushed against the pressure, his legs trembling, muscles burning. ¡°No.¡± His voice was hoarse, but firm. ¡°We won¡¯t die here. We can help our brethren defend the caravan. Only the engineers need to stay. We don¡¯t need this slaughter.¡± Ragna stepped forward, shadowy flames flickering from her nostrils. A low growl rumbled in her throat. ¡°I won¡¯t let the Ruin Beasts ravage the human villages beyond the battlefield. I will not stand by while tens of thousands are slaughtered for nothing.¡± Kaelos¡¯ smile faded, replaced by cold fury. His scars flared with a searing light. The air around him thickened, humming with violence. Garrok¡¯s vision exploded with pain, but he held on. He wouldn¡¯t be Kaelos¡¯ puppet. He wouldn¡¯t be his pawn. But that thought was soon overshadowed by the pressure, which tightened around Garrok like a vice. His knees buckled under the weight of Kaelos¡¯ will, and the ground rose up to meet him. Blood leaked from his and Ragna¡¯s eyes and ears, the thick warmth sliding down their faces and necks. The searing golden-red light that spilled from Kaelos¡¯ jagged scars blinded him, painting the world in hues of fire and ruin. For a moment, Garrok saw past the shattered god¡ªthe thing that was once more than this. There was a rage in him, but beneath it, something deeper: desperation. Then, in his mind, visions exploded. They were of ancient wars, cities turned to ash, and towers crumbling under the fists of gods. Of armies broken by endless slaughter. The images burned into his thoughts, searing glory, destruction, and despair into the fabric of his soul. The silence that followed Kaelos¡¯ wrath was worse. Even the wounded orcs around him lay still, too terrified to groan in pain. Kaelos¡¯ voice cut through the oppressive stillness like a blade, sharp, cold, and absolute. ¡°Stop hiding your army. Go. Restore your essence and make the correct choices. Or I will ensure the humans find your precious secret.¡± His words were a command, and Garrok¡¯s body crumpled beneath their crushing weight. He collapsed onto the blood-soaked ground, trembling. The rage and power that had once filled him drained away, leaving only bitter exhaustion. Ragna moved swiftly. With a precise strike of will, she severed Garrok¡¯s mind from his broken body, cutting through the threads that bound him to the mortal realm. Pain seared through him, sharp and overwhelming, as the separation tore him from the physical. But even as the agony burned, Ragna¡¯s mind enveloped his, wrapping him in a protective cocoon. She pulled him deep into the sanctuary of their shared bond, away from the wrath of the mad god that still thundered around them. For a moment, there was nothing¡ªno pain, no fear, no anger. Only the void. Then they emerged. Minds stripped of their physical forms, they materialized in the familiar chamber of their essence pool. Here, they were beings of pure energy, glowing orbs of light intertwined by something deeper than blood or flesh. Garrok¡¯s essence pulsed with shadow, rimmed in pale fire, while Ragna¡¯s blazed crimson, threaded with dark veins of power. The chamber surrounding them was small. Its translucent walls shifting through soft hues, refracting the energy that pulsed between them. Beyond those walls churned an endless void, rolling with unseen tides of power. Clear, luminous essence gathered at the chamber''s floor, beading on the walls before flowing into a pool below. Two great runes, etched on opposing walls, pulsed with a faint, steady rhythm¡ªthe core of their connection. These runes bound their souls together, anchoring them to the dragonfire and shadow that fueled their bond. Countless other runes were inscribed on the surrounding walls, spells painstakingly learned and inscribed over the years. ¡°Gorrak-spawned wretches,¡± Garrok cursed, though the sound of it echoed differently here. No voice, just the raw projection of frustration, rage, and fear. ¡°Raghgar! Essence-drained coward!¡± Ragna¡¯s essence flickered angrily beside him, a surge of crimson light illuminating the chamber. ¡°Kaelos will destroy everything in his path if it suits him,¡± she growled, her voice a deep, rumbling presence. Garrok nodded and forwent replying, instead directing his essence toward the runes, focusing on the task at hand. They couldn¡¯t afford to fall apart, not now. They wove the essence, guiding it with practiced precision along the minute channels that were inside the walls. The walls pulsed as the raw energy flowed into them, casting brief flashes of light into the void. The condensation quickened, and the pool below deepened ever so slightly. It was a slow process, but they had learned patience. ¡°Do you remember,¡± Ragna asked, her voice softer now, as her essence glowed gently beside Garrok¡¯s, ¡°when this room was barely an inch across?¡± Garrok let out a bitter laugh, his own essence flickering faintly. ¡°I do. Back when we were still fledglings, barely able to survive the trials. Only two runes back then¡ªDragonfire and Shadow. We thought it was the entire world.¡± Ragna¡¯s light brightened, warming their bond with shared memory. ¡°The arrogance of youth. We thought we could become gods by force alone.¡± ¡°But now we know better,¡± Garrok said, the weight of years heavy on his soul. ¡°Power alone isn¡¯t enough. Not in this broken world.¡± The silence that followed was thick with unspoken understanding. The orcs were dying. Slowly, inevitably, like everything else in this world. The humans marched ever closer, their forces stronger with each passing day. Their arrogance, their hunger for dominion, their alliance with the gods¡ªit threatened to consume them all. But they didn¡¯t understand what was coming. They didn¡¯t know about the caravan. The seeds. They didn¡¯t know that we had no choice but to keep moving. To fight. ¡°We¡¯ll die either way,¡± Garrok said quietly, breaking the silence. ¡°Kaelos will burn us all if we fail. The humans will starve us if we run. We have no escape.¡± Ragna growled deep in her soul, the fury of a dragon burning through her. ¡°We are not beaten yet, Garrok. We still have time.¡± ¡°Time?¡± Garrok laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. ¡°Time for what? The caravan is on the move, but the Ruin Beasts are stirring. The Horde Masters will be upon them soon. And now a third human army marches for us.¡± Ragna¡¯s light dimmed, a shadow passing through her essence. ¡°We have one choice,¡± she said, her voice low, grim. ¡°As much as it pains me to admit it, we need to bring the Ruin Beasts here. Let them tear the humans apart. Draw them into the same trap they¡¯d lay for us.¡± Garrok recoiled at the thought. ¡°We¡¯ll be slaughtering innocents¡ªentire villages are in their path. The blood will be on our hands.¡± ¡°The blood is on our hands either way,¡± Ragna snapped. ¡°If we don¡¯t act, the caravan is lost. The alliance with the elves is broken. The humans will turn the world to ash to protect their precious fields. And we will all die in the dirt.¡± Garrok wanted to argue, to find another way, but deep down, he knew Ragna was right. They were out of time. Out of options. Garrok closed his eyes, the weight of it all pressing down on him. His essence flickered, barely holding together. ¡°Let¡¯s go back. Call the engineers. Tell them to ready the Skybreaker Cannons.¡± Ragna¡¯s presence flared beside him, a grim satisfaction radiating from her as they turned to face the inevitable. ¡°Let the beasts come,¡± she said. ¡°And may the gods choke on the blood they spill.¡± Chapter 1: The Scent Of Gunpowder Chapter 1: The Scent Of Gunpowder Lyanna Mirrorguard stood rigid by the fire, its flickering heat drying the blood crusted on her armor. The gauntlets pinched her fingers, stiff with the congealing mess, the once-bright red turning to a sickly brown. The stench clawed at her throat¡ªcopper, ash, and charred flesh melding into a miasma she had long gotten used to. Around her, the chaotic din of soldiers filled the air¡ªclattering armor, low curses, the groans of the wounded. ¡°Pour the water here,¡± she said, her voice as steady as she could make it, though inside her veins still thrummed with the wild rush of combat. A sturdy young woman stepped forward, freckled cheeks flushed from exertion. Determination set her jaw in a way that almost distracted from the dark streak of soot smeared across her face. She nodded briskly and tipped the dented bucket over Lyanna¡¯s outstretched arms. Cold water cascaded over the steel, turning the dried blood into dark, sluggish rivulets. The water pooled in the ashen ground, swirling briefly before soaking into the dirt. Lyanna flexed her fingers, loosening the stiff leather of her gloves, and inspected her twin blades¡ªEmber and Scarlet. She turned each sword slowly, letting the firelight play along their edges. The silver runes engraved along their lengths shimmered faintly, pulsing with an inner glow as water dripped from the blade tips. ¡°Thank you,¡± Lyanna murmured, her voice low enough to remain private. The young woman straightened, armor rattling as she took a step back. ¡°My lady,¡± she said with a bow, before melting into the background noise of the camp. Lyanna¡¯s eyes dropped to the swords in her hands, their hilts cool despite the lingering heat of battle. Her thumb brushed over the crystals embedded in each pommel¡ªone the gray of spent embers, the other dark red like fresh blood. The crystals thrummed faintly under her touch, the vibrations so familiar they might as well have been a heartbeat. They were more than decorative; they were essence pools, reservoirs for the magic that fueled the runes carved into the blades. The runes that had saved her life more times than she cared to count. The swords had been extravagant gifts from her parents, intended for someone older and far more seasoned¡ªa master of the blade with decades of experience, not a girl barely seventeen. They were objects of awe, their power bound to costly crystals embedded in their pommels, their creation a feat that had drained half a year¡¯s worth of taxes from the villages and towns under her family¡¯s banner. That weight lingered in Lyanna¡¯s hands as heavily as the blades themselves¡ªa constant reminder of the expectations she was meant to shoulder. But she clung to a single, unyielding truth: she would prove herself worthy of them. And yet, Ember and Scarlet had become more than burdens. They were hers. Her allies in the chaos of battle, the only companions she trusted without question. She had named them for the hues of their crystals, but over time, it felt as though they¡¯d developed personalities of their own. Ember was steady and calm, an anchor during chaos. Scarlet burned hot and wild, a force that dared Lyanna to test her limits. In a way, the blades made up for what she lacked: experience, control, and confidence. Closing her eyes, Lyanna steadied her breathing, following the techniques drilled into her during years of training. Breathe in. Breathe out. She let her thoughts slip into the energy of the blades, into the crystals¡¯ essence pools. Ember¡¯s well of power was almost dry, and Scarlet¡¯s wasn¡¯t much better. Both had been drained during the battle when she¡¯d used the ash rune to leap across burning fields and the blood rune to mend her wounds. They would refill in time, slowly pulling ambient energy from the world around them, but not quickly enough for her liking. Her own pool of essence, however, was pathetic. Half a foot wide¡ªthat was all she could muster after four years of cultivation. Four years, and she had two meager spells to her name. One to heal, another to control ash. Why couldn¡¯t I have been born with something stronger? She thought bitterly of her mother¡¯s effortless command of the wind, her sister¡¯s deft mastery over crystal magic. Her tutors had been blunt: her age had slowed her growth, and her affinities for ash and blood weren¡¯t just rare¡ªthey were difficult to cultivate, unstable by nature. The essence came grudgingly, pooling like sludge compared to the rivers her peers wielded. Her fingers tightened around the hilts of the swords, the edges of Scarlet¡¯s rune biting faintly into her palm. The sting was grounding. Get over it. Move forward. Lyanna opened her eyes, forcing her focus outward. The soldiers nearby had started to notice her stillness. She caught one man staring, curiosity glinting in his eyes. Another murmured something to his companion, a glance flicking in her direction. Lyanna straightened, rolling her shoulders to force the stiffness from them. She didn¡¯t need their questions. Turning on her heel, Lyanna strode through the camp, her boots crunching over the scorched ground. Smoke hung low in the air, a ghostly haze that carried the acrid tang of burnt flesh and blood. Beneath it all lingered the bitter stench of fear¡ªa smell she¡¯d come to recognize after countless skirmishes. She tuned her ears to the camp¡¯s distant hum, trying to sift out the fragments of conversation from the front lines. Somewhere ahead, Karina would be waiting. But it wasn¡¯t just Karina she sought. Lyanna needed to know. What were they saying about her? The soldiers had already begun their crude revelry, celebrating the battle¡¯s outcome in the way soldiers always did. They toasted their dead with raised cups of stolen ale, bellowed songs of victory, and cursed the orcs who¡¯d dared to raid their lands. The words were venomous, their hatred tangible: orcs who stole crops, razed homes, left children starving. They deserved the curses, Lyanna thought. And worse. The smell of sweat, smoke, ale, and burnt meat churned her stomach. She almost snapped at them to rein in their celebrations, to remember that the victory wasn¡¯t final. The orc army wasn¡¯t destroyed¡ªnot entirely. They were still out there, lurking in the shifting sands of the Burnt Sea, hiding in crevices and ruins, waiting to strike. But Lyanna held back. Her mother wouldn¡¯t approve of her berating them in front of the entire camp. A lady maintained her composure, even when the world around her was chaos. Instead, Lyanna worried. Had she done enough? Would it be enough to earn her a griffin egg at the upcoming Harvest Moon Festival? The thought clung to her like damp ash. No, not just a griffin. Her fingers tightened involuntarily around Scarlet¡¯s hilt. With the dragon eggs they had captured¡ªthere was a chance, however slim, that she might be allowed to bond with one. A dragon, like Karina. The idea burned, equal parts hope and dread. Karina had become a legend the moment her bond was sealed. How could Lyanna compete with that? She had to, though. She couldn¡¯t be the shadow of her sister, her whole entire life. The soldiers Lyanna passed bowed respectfully. ¡°Lady Lyanna Mirrorguard,¡± they said, voices rough but unflinchingly sincere. It was a stark contrast to before the battle. Back then, their bows had been mocking¡ªspine-deep contempt for the ¡°fragile noble girl¡± wearing armor too fine for her skill. Now, though, there was a new note in their tone. Admiration. A weathered man jogged up, his face a patchwork of grime, exhaustion, and the deep lines of experience. His tabard was torn, the insignia of his company barely visible beneath the blood and soot.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°My Lady,¡± he said, his voice raspy as if worn from too many shouts. ¡°Thank you. For saving my company. That wyvern¡­¡± His words trailed off, but the gratitude in his eyes said more than his voice could ever manage. Lyanna winced inwardly, remembering the reckless expenditure of half her ash essence to pull off that flashy kill. Anything for the Queen¡¯s Agents, anything to impress them. ¡°It was my duty, Captain,¡± she replied, forcing a smile. ¡°It¡¯s what the Mirrorguards do.¡± As Lyanna moved farther from the division she¡¯d fought alongside, the bows began to fade, replaced by whispers trailing in her wake. ¡°She killed three dozen orcs, did you hear?¡± ¡°And three wyverns!¡± ¡°On her own, no less¡­¡± Exaggerations, of course¡ªbut Lyanna didn¡¯t mind. Let them talk. Tales like that had a way of growing, spreading, twisting into something grander with each retelling. A half-dozen felled foes became a dozen; a risky maneuver turned into a bold, calculated masterstroke. These stories weren¡¯t just idle gossip. No, they were seeds, planted in the fertile soil of a soldier¡¯s tongue, carried from campfires to command tents. And eventually, to the right ears. The Queen¡¯s Agents were always listening. Even now, they¡¯d be compiling their reports, readying their ledgers for the Harvest Moon Festival. A time of judgment. A time for seventeen-year-olds across the kingdom to have their fates etched in stone. Lyanna¡¯s stomach tightened at the thought. The Harvest Moon Festival wasn¡¯t just a celebration; it was the kingdom¡¯s great reckoning. A year¡¯s worth of deeds and potential distilled into a single verdict. The weak were given roles befitting their station¡ªstewards, blacksmiths, cultivators. But the strong? The exceptional? They were rewarded. Elevated. And Lyanna wanted her reward. If the stories reached the right lips, if her reputation caught fire before the festival, those inflated numbers might tip the scales in her favor. Perhaps she¡¯d be gifted a griffin egg. Or, if the gods saw fit to smile upon her, a dragon¡¯s egg. Lyanna¡¯s heart skipped a beat when she heard one soldier say, ¡°She¡¯s a better swordswoman than her sister was at her age.¡± Karina, one of the five Champions of Valior, bested by Lyanna? She bit back a smile and straightened her posture. Lyanna couldn¡¯t skip around like a girl. She needed to be... dignified. Head held high. But Lyanna¡¯s happiness was short-lived. A dull thudding noise vibrated through the ground. She looked up to see a distant army approaching, their banner flapping in the wind¡ªa black raven. House Blackthorn. Here to steal the glory, to mop up the remnants of the orc army after they, after Karina and Lyanna and their allies, did all the hard work. Thankfully, the Queen was shrewd. She wouldn¡¯t reward the Blackthorns too handsomely, even if the other noble houses fawned over Duke Gideon, begging for scraps like dogs. Lyanna picked up her pace, climbing the dunes until she found Karina. Karina stood on the tallest one, a dark silhouette against the horizon, Pyrope at her side. Blood still dripped from her armor, her face, even Pyrope¡¯s scales, still slick with blood. Karina was scanning the black dunes, her gaze sweeping across the crevices that crisscrossed the landscape like veins on a leaf. Her lips were slightly pursed, her muscles tense, as if she was about to jump¡ªto the side. A tell Lyanna had learned from countless spars against her. Karina was worried. About what though? Lyanna climbed the dune, her footsteps steady and silent. ¡°Blackthorn¡¯s here,¡± she said, reaching the top. ¡°Come to steal our thunder.¡± Lyanna scratched Pyrope under her chin, where the scales on her snout met the softer ones of her neck. ¡°Half his force is circling around back,¡± Karina replied. ¡°A messenger just arrived. They¡¯re hoping to catch the orcs in a pincer.¡± ¡°Why does it matter if they steal our glory?¡± Pyrope rumbled, her voice a deep thrum that vibrated through Lyanna¡¯s bones. ¡°If it saves lives¡­¡± ¡°Because then I won¡¯t get a griffin! Or a dragon!¡± Lyanna exclaimed, frustration bubbling up. ¡°Even if the Queen¡¯s Agent knows what I did, they won¡¯t offend House Blackthorn by making us look better, especially with Alec being the same age as me.¡± ¡°Lyanna!¡± Karina snapped, her blue eyes flashing. ¡°You¡¯d risk lives for glory?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not just about glory!¡± Lyanna retorted, but Pyrope cut her off. ¡°It¡¯s about more than you, little hatchling,¡± she said, her voice gentler now. ¡°The Mirrorguard motto¡­¡± Lyanna gritted her teeth but relented, slumping her shoulders, defeated. ¡°Through the mirror¡¯s pane, we see our true selves,¡± she said. ¡°And only those who emerge unbroken can shield the innocent from the shadows and cast the undeserving into the darkness.¡± ¡°So what are both you worried about?¡± Lyanna asked, changing the subject. ¡°Orcs,¡± Pyrope replied simply. ¡°But why would they attack now?¡± Lyanna frowned. ¡°They were routed. It would be suicide. And if you are so worried about an attack why is the army busy celebrating?¡± ¡°Celebrating is good for morale,¡± Karina said, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. ¡°And my aides have ensured the army can be ready to fight in minutes.¡± ¡°They may have been defeated,¡± Pyrope added, ¡°but we haven¡¯t seen their main force, their best dragon-riders. Only their leader. And them paying for Aeristha¡¯s services¡­ it means they¡¯re desperate and willing to do whatever it takes. Plus, the Seers have warned of great bloodshed.¡± ¡°Seers?¡± Lyanna scoffed. ¡°Their visions are notoriously unreliable. Often just dreams.¡± ¡°True,¡± Pyrope conceded, ¡°but several Seers have seen the same vision, independently.¡± Karina sighed, glancing at the approaching Blackthorn army. ¡°Meditate, Lyanna. Recover your essence. I need to get this army ready to find the orc bastards.¡± Lyanna sat on the edge of the dune, closing her eyes, focusing on her essence core. Time stretched, the sounds of the camp fading into a dull hum. Then, a sudden cry of alarm jolted her awake. Lyanna opened her eyes to see it¡ªa massive platform lumbering into view, giant gears rotating wheels the size of buildings. And atop it, a monstrous cannon, glowing with an eerie light that seemed to suck the color from the world around it. A Skybreaker cannon. Lyanna¡¯s teacher¡¯s words echoed in her mind: Skybreaker cannons, built for the war against the Fallen One, three were gifted to each nation by Lord Hammerfall himself. A single shot can wipe out a horde of lesser monsters¡­ or a village. A shiver ran down Lyanna¡¯s spine, a potent mix of fear and twisted excitement. If she could disable that cannon¡­ Alec Blackthorn would be left with nothing, and she¡­ she could finally gain enough glory for a dragon egg! Lyanna leaped to her feet, drawing Ember and Scarlet, but Karina¡¯s voice stopped her cold. ¡°Lyanna! Take as many soldiers as you can gather and hide in a crevice. Now!¡± ¡°But I want to help! We can destroy the cannon. We can¡ª¡± ¡°Lyanna, I am your commander, and you will obey my orders!¡± Karina¡¯s voice was sharp, laced with a fury Lyanna had rarely seen. ¡°But¡ª¡± ¡°I will not let you throw your life away for some childish notion of glory!¡± ¡°I can do it! I can attack the cannon, disable it, and no one will steal our¡ª¡± Karina¡¯s eyes burned with fury. ¡°I have indulged your selfishness for far too long, Lyanna,¡± she hissed, her voice dangerously low. ¡°I foolishly believed you would grow out of this childish obsession with glory. But I see now that I was wrong.¡± ¡°For the last time, I am ordering you to take as many soldiers as you can gather and find a crevice to hide in. And since you seem to be having trouble understanding my orders¡­¡± Lyanna opened her mouth to argue, but Karina¡¯s hand lashed out before she could speak¡ªSLAP¡ªthe sound echoing in the sudden silence. Lyanna¡¯s head snapped to the side, the sting of Karina¡¯s slap searing across her cheek. Her vision blurred, her mind spinning in a cyclone of shock and betrayal. Through the haze, she saw Karina striding away, barking orders to prepare Pyrope for flight. Before Lyanna could fully regain her senses, Pyrope, with Karina riding on her back, launched into the air, heading straight for the Skybreaker cannon. Fury surged through Lyanna, hot and blinding. Karina feared being outshone, feared Lyanna would prove herself the better warrior. Karina wanted the glory of destroying the cannon, and worried Lyanna would take it from her. But there was still a way to win. If Lyanna could save the army, if she could ensure their survival against that monstrous weapon¡­ The Queen¡¯s Agent would recognize that surely? Lyanna raced down the dune, her heart pounding. The soldiers, once eager to finish off the remnants of the orc army, now stared at the advancing cannon with a mix of awe and terror. ¡°Lady Lyanna?¡± one of them asked, his voice trembling. ¡°What do we do?¡± Lyanna took a deep breath, forcing herself to project an image of calm confidence, even though her insides were churning. ¡°We hide,¡± she said, her voice ringing with authority. ¡°Find the nearest crevice, the deepest you can find. Take cover and don¡¯t come out until I say otherwise. And pray to Arthor that it¡¯s enough.¡± Panic rippled through the ranks, but they obeyed. They knew the power of a Skybreaker cannon. They knew that out in the open, they were as good as dead. Lyanna scanned the landscape, searching for a suitable hiding place for herself. Her gaze fell upon a narrow fissure in the black earth, barely wide enough to squeeze through. It would do. As she scrambled into the darkness, the ground began to tremble. The Skybreaker cannon was charging, sucking the very essence from the air around it. Lyanna closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable. And then, the world exploded. Chapter 2: The Burnt Leaves Of Greenhaven Chapter 2: The Burnt Leaves Of Greenhaven Kael Flynn crouched in the crook of a slender tree, the rough bark digging into his palms. Above him, the leaves were still mostly green, tinged only slightly with the season¡¯s turn. He liked this time of year; it reminded him of when his mother would lead him and his sister into the woods, teaching them to track animals by how the fallen leaves lay scattered. Those memories felt distant, like echoes, and he wondered if he¡¯d ever truly let them go. Greenhaven was all he had left of them. This place¡ªthe woods, the town, his father¡ªwas both his sanctuary and his cage. Here, he felt close to his family yet burdened by their memory. After the last beast tide had taken both his mother and sister, he¡¯d sworn he¡¯d find a way to protect himself, maybe even others. But he wasn¡¯t sure who he wanted to protect anymore. To defend anything, though, he needed power. And to get power, he¡¯d have to prove himself at the upcoming Harvest Moon festival, where the Queen¡¯s agents would assign roles to eager seventeen-year-olds. Those who impressed them might earn a spot at a university, maybe even bond with a griffin¡ªor a dragon, if luck favored them. Now was his chance, and Kael knew it. The season¡¯s foliage gave him cover in the trees, while the dry leaves on the ground would betray any footsteps below. Not that there were many creatures left to hunt; the skirmish between the orcs and humans that morning had driven most of them away. He tightened his grip on his crossbow, a rough yet proud creation of his own making. Unlike the town¡¯s aging hunters, whose weapons were handed down, Kael had forged this one himself, the result of countless sleepless nights and hidden study. His father would¡¯ve been furious if he knew. ¡°Runes are for the nobles and their fancy universities,¡± his father always said. ¡°A real man fights with steel, not some mystic tricks.¡± Kael scoffed under his breath. Yeah, well, steel didn¡¯t save Ma or Sister, did it? It wasn¡¯t all bitterness. Beneath his anger lay guilt. He¡¯d been too young to help, too afraid to run into the chaos, hiding while the monsters tore through the town. He told himself he¡¯d been too small to make a difference, but that excuse hadn¡¯t held up. The guilt rooted itself in him, twisted and deep. Forced alongside his father, to watch as his mother and sister died fighting the monsters, giving their lives for the town. Earned them the scorn for being cowards. And often, in Kael''s case, pity for losing his mother. The crunch of leaves below jolted him back. His instincts sharpened, and he readied his crossbow, running a finger along the runes he¡¯d etched painstakingly into its side, finding the rune to activate the crossbow and tapping it three times. The metal hummed slightly as essence surged from a small cube of Arcanist¡¯s Steel¡ªbarely enough to power the weapon. Then the crossbow¡¯s mechanism whirred softly, pulling back the bolt. One shot. Don¡¯t waste it. The essence pool was dangerously low, and he couldn¡¯t afford even the cheapest shard to refill it. Below him, a young boar ambled into view, snuffling among the leaves. Smaller than most boars, though still longer than Kael was tall, with tusks sharp and gleaming in the dappled light. He muttered a curse under his breath. A boar wasn¡¯t worth using essence, but with his crossbow already charged, it was too late to back down. I¡¯ll make it count, he thought, fingers steady on the trigger. He took a breath, whispering, ¡°For Ma.¡± The thick metal bolt shot forward, embedding itself with a dull, wet thud into the boar¡¯s skull. The beast collapsed instantly, twitching once before stilling. A small smirk tugged at Kael¡¯s lips. It worked. His crossbow was no ordinary weapon anymore, not after the runes he¡¯d stolen from old library books. They¡¯ll see, he told himself. His father, the town, even the Queen¡¯s Agent. They¡¯ll have to take me to the Rune Academy after this. For a moment, he let himself imagine it¡ªstriding into the village square with the boar in tow, proving the precision of his crossbow and the strength of his runes. He knew he shouldn¡¯t get too caught up in the fantasy, but he couldn¡¯t help it. He imagined Aria, the only friend who truly understood him, smiling with that exasperated shake of her head. ¡°All this for a boar?¡± she¡¯d tease. She was the only one who¡¯d ever spoken to him without pity or scorn. ¡°You don¡¯t need their permission,¡± she¡¯d once told him, when he¡¯d been ready to give up on studying runes. ¡°You¡¯re better than them.¡± Back then, he hadn¡¯t believed her. Now, though, he wasn¡¯t so sure. You¡¯ll see, he thought, gripping the crossbow tighter. But a boar wouldn¡¯t be enough. Not for anyone to take him seriously. He needed something bigger, something monstrous. Kael dropped from the tree with practiced ease. He approached the boar, yanking the bolt free with a grunt. A faint hum from the essence runes lingered as he kicked the carcass lightly, wondering if he could use it as bait for something larger. His crossbow¡¯s reserves were dangerously low, and he didn¡¯t have an essence shard to recharge it. Even a tiny shard cost more than his father earned in a year, and only the orcs could find them with any consistency, hoarding each piece fiercely. Just then, the ground trembled beneath him, followed by a distant boom like rolling thunder. Kael froze, his eyes narrowing as a second boom split the air, closer this time. The battle between the orcs and humans had reignited¡ªfiercer now, and moving his way. If it drew any closer, it would scare off every creature in the woods for miles, ruining his chance of finding a Horde Master before the Harvest Moon Festival. With a frustrated growl, he slung the crossbow across his back and dragged the boar by its tusks. It would still make a decent offering for the festival banquet, even if it wasn¡¯t the trophy he needed. Damn it, he thought. If the monsters don¡¯t return soon, my chances will vanish.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Halfway back to the village, Kael¡¯s thoughts drifted to the Rune Academy. Just one real kill was all he needed¡ªthen he¡¯d be free. Free of Greenhaven. Free to learn runes. Two dragons soared high above the forest canopy, locked in a deadly dance. The larger one cast a wide, ominous silhouette across the forest floor, while the smaller darted and swerved with lethal grace. Their roars clashed in the sky like ancient drums of war, shaking the air and the very ground beneath his feet. He couldn¡¯t tell how close they were, but close enough that every rumbling beat of their wings sent a tremor through his bones. Kael''s heart stuttered, awe mixing with dread. The larger of the two, a massive creature with scales the color of crimson dipped in shadow, let out another ear-splitting roar. Shadows twisted around her form, making it hard to see where the dragon ended and the darkness began. Flames licked at her jaws, black and red coiling together in a furious dance. Her rider, an orc clad in dark armor, leaned forward, his battle-cry lost in the thunderous sound of the battle. Facing her, the other dragon¡ªa lean and agile beast¡ªdodged with breathtaking speed. Her fiery crystalline scales shimmered like molten glass in the sunlight, reflecting every flicker of flame she summoned. Her rider, a human woman Kael recognized instantly: Lady Karina Mirrorguard. Her golden armor shone in the sun, but it was the dragon, Pyrope, that commanded Kael¡¯s attention. Her powerful wings beat the air, agile and deadly, every movement a fluid strike aimed at her enemy. Dragons¡ªand their riders. The heroes of legend, the protectors of the realm. Every child dreamed of becoming one, soaring through the skies, fighting alongside creatures of such magnificent power. But Kael¡¯s admiration was short-lived, for it was clear this was no heroic demonstration but a deadly conflict. And Kael was a witness. The two dragons circled, each strike of claws and flame exchanged in a stalemate. Pyrope darted in, releasing a blast of searing flame that singed the shadow dragon¡¯s wing. But the larger dragon retaliated with a surge of shadow and fire, forcing Pyrope to retreat. Neither was gaining the upper hand. Then the ground trembled. A deep rumble, more felt than heard, vibrated beneath Kael¡¯s boots. His pulse quickened, dread knotting his stomach. And then, without warning, the earth erupted in the distance, a geyser of soil and stone marking the arrival. From the depths of the soil, a monstrous serpentine creature burst forth, its form twisting and writhing with unnatural fluidity. The *Ruin Beast*. Kael had heard of such horrors only in whispered legends, things not meant to walk the surface world. Its body, even from this distance, seemed impossibly large, was covered in scales that glistened with an oily sheen. Its head¡ªa grotesque amalgamation of mouths and eyes¡ªswung toward the dragons with an insatiable hunger. The shadow dragon was the first to suffer. The creature struck, its massive body crashing into the dragon, sending her spiraling through the air, one wing twisted at an unnatural angle. Her roar of pain echoed through the trees, and her orc rider clung tightly, fighting to regain control. Kael¡¯s legs locked in place. His fingers gripped the boar¡¯s tusks so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Fear pulsed through him, paralyzing him where he stood. He had never seen anything like it. The boar lay forgotten at his feet as the monster turned its attention to the dragons. Run, his mind screamed. Run now! But Lady Karina and Pyrope did not strike the downed foe. Instead, they turned on the Ruin Beast, summoning spears of glittering crystal from thin air. With a sharp command, Karina sent them hurtling into the creature''s serpentine body. The spears struck true, but the beast merely recoiled, as though swatting away mere insects. Kael could see it now¡ªthe size of this abomination, dwarfing even the dragons. The shadow dragon, injured but not out, blinked through the air in a sudden shimmer, reappearing in an instant to attack the beast with teeth and claws. The orc rider brandished a gleaming black sword, his strikes precise, cutting deep into the monster¡¯s flesh. Lady Karina did not hesitate. She guided Pyrope, hurling more crystal spears toward the monster¡¯s head, aiming for the eyes. Kael watched, breath held, as the creature¡¯s rage intensified. It reared back, writhing in pain as one of the spears embedded itself near its eye. Kael''s mind screamed to move. To run. But his body refused. He was no dragon rider. He was nothing. As soon as the beast was finished with the dragons, it would hunt him down. Another roar split the sky as the Ruin Beast recoiled into the ground, retreating for a moment. The two dragons, battered and exhausted, converged in the sky, high above, hidden in the shelter of clouds. Kael forced his legs into motion, his heart pounding in his chest. Greenhaven lay to the right of where the dragons hovered, but he couldn¡¯t tear his eyes away from the sky as he ran. He watched as Pyrope and Lady Karina began drawing the very clouds around them, pulling them into a massive, gleaming spear of ice. The earth trembled once more, the beast emerging again. Its monstrous mouth opened wide, and from the void within, a ball of pure emptiness formed¡ªan orb of destruction that pulsed with dark energy. Kael saw it coming, saw the dragons try to evade, but they were too slow, too drained. And then, just before the void reached them, the shadow dragon shifted the smaller dragon and her rider to safety. But the price was high. The shadow dragon and his rider were consumed, their bodies devoured by the void in an instant. Pyrope let out a roar, defiant and full of fury. Lady Karina raised the giant crystalline spear one last time. Its surface shimmered like ice, beautiful but deadly, and with every ounce of essence left in them, they hurled it toward the serpent¡¯s head. At that moment, the beast unleashed another orb of destruction, sending it straight at the rider. The dark sphere crawled toward them, slower and smaller than before but relentless, and the gap between the two combatants was gone. There was no escape. The void consumed them as they flew, hundreds of tiny mouths forming at its edges, gnashing and tearing through flesh and scale. Pyrope and Lady Karina fell, their once-mighty forms half-eaten, twisted in agony, before crashing to the ground with a sickening thud that shook the battlefield. Yet their final act had not been in vain. The monstrous serpent, sluggish from its own magic, tried desperately to dodge the spear, but its movements were faltering. The spear, seemingly guided by fate, curved through the air and found its mark. It pierced the creature¡¯s skull with a shattering impact. The Ruin Beast let out a final, deafening shriek as its massive body collapsed into the earth, its fall so powerful that the very heavens seemed to tremble. Kael stood frozen, shaking hands gripping the crossbow. His mind reeled from the sight¡ªthe devastation, the loss, and the sheer power that had unfolded before him. The dragons were gone, their lifeless bodies scattered across the land, their final sacrifice lingering in the cold, dangerous air. Greenhaven wasn¡¯t safe. Nowhere was. Chapter 3: The Shadowed Claim Chapter 3: The Shadowed Claim Kael stood rooted to the forest floor, the deathly silence settling around him like a suffocating fog. The echoes of the dragons¡¯ battle reverberated in his mind, their last, fierce roars like ancient war drums still vibrating within his chest. He forced his hand to loosen its grip on his crossbow. The shattered bodies of the dragons, and perhaps even a dragon egg¡ªthey were so close. If he found one, his life would change forever. This is what you came for, Kael, he told himself, eyes scanning the shadowed trees. No turning back now. Not when I¡¯m so close to gaining the power that I need. The distant, hollow cries of lurking creatures began to fill the woods, echoing unnaturally as they drew closer. It was as though the trees themselves whispered of the ruin the battle had left behind. The air felt charged with something both terrifying and exhilarating. For a moment, his thoughts twisted toward turning back, toward running home and leaving the forest and its dangers behind. But then he imagined the look on his father¡¯s face¡ªpity mingled with disdain¡ªand he felt his resolve steel inside him. Go back empty-handed? Not this time. He could already hear his father¡¯s voice, thick with contempt: ¡°Always after more than you can handle, aren¡¯t you?¡± Not this time. If he found a dragon egg¡ªclaimed it and bonded with it¡ªthe queen herself would be bound by law and legend to let him keep it. No ruler would dare interfere with a dragon bond; it would be an insult to the gods. He could see it already: Greenhaven¡¯s villagers, bowing with respect instead of pity, regarding him not as the boy with a dead family and bruises but as something untouchable, something powerful. He would be Kael Flynn, the dragon rider. With one last glance over his shoulder, he slipped into the forest¡¯s shadows, moving carefully through the dense undergrowth, ducking beneath branches and stepping lightly across wet patches of mud to muffle his steps. The hot, humid air pressed against him, making each breath thick and heavy, but he kept going. You¡¯re meant for this, Kael. You¡¯re meant for more. The unnatural sounds grew louder, as though a host of creatures had been drawn to the dragons¡¯ fall like vultures. Every crunch, every shuffle made him freeze and listen, his crossbow ready in his hands. It was slow going, but Kael knew it was the only way to survive. Then he heard it. A strange, wet snarl echoed through the trees, and Kael froze. His grip tightened on his crossbow as he turned, eyes searching through the oppressive darkness. A shape slithered from the shadows¡ªa twisted, sinewy creature with skin like blistered stone and scales burned black. It twisted and cracked as it moved, as though its own bones and joints protested against its unnatural form. Eyes glowed red, fixed on him with a ravenous, piercing hunger. The thing¡¯s mouth widened impossibly, revealing rows upon rows of jagged, serrated teeth, slick with the remains of its last victim. Panic surged. Kael¡¯s fingers fumbled over the etched runes on his crossbow, struggling to grasp it as his pulse hammered, his hands damp with sweat. Come on, Kael. Don¡¯t freeze now. The creature inched closer, its spine arching, its muscles rippling beneath charred flesh as it prepared to spring. He swallowed, heart pounding, his fingers slipping as he tried to draw back the mechanism. The thing lunged. He released the bolt just as its mouth snapped toward him, its jagged teeth mere inches from his face. The bolt hit true, plunging into the creature¡¯s maw. It let out a wet, strangled roar, the sickening crunch of bone and sinew reverberating as it crashed to the ground, twitching, its claws scraping the dirt in a final, futile spasm. Kael exhaled, feeling the weight of his near-death like a stone in his stomach. He looked down at the crossbow in his hands, feeling its essence entirely drained. Now, it was just dead weight. ¡°Close one, Kael,¡± he whispered to himself, his voice barely a breath. ¡°Keep it together.¡± He took another step, forcing himself to keep going, moving with even greater caution, the terror still clawing at the back of his mind. He navigated the forest with heightened awareness, hyper-alert to every rustle and crack, his nerves stretched taut. Time dragged on, the forest¡¯s silence as thick as fog, broken only by the occasional rustle of distant creatures drawn by the dragons'' fall. Kael crept forward, every muscle taut, his breath shallow as he wove between trees, sometimes doubling back when he caught sight of movement in the dark. Finally, he reached the corpse of the fallen serpent. It lay sprawled across the forest, its twisted coils rising like small hills around him, its enormous size making it hard to even fathom. Broken trees littered the ground around it, splintered under the creature¡¯s weight. He approached the massive corpse, his gaze drawn to the scales. If he could pry one off, he could craft it into a shield, a talisman of sorts. Not a dragon scale, he thought, smiling slightly, but it¡¯ll do. With a grunt, he strained to pry one loose, and with a final twist, the scale gave, heavy and solid in his hands. He strapped it to his back, feeling a strange satisfaction at the weight of it against him. At least it wasn¡¯t all for nothing. But he wanted more. He¡¯d come for the dragons, and he wasn¡¯t about to leave without trying. Kael moved past the serpent¡¯s corpse, ducking around fallen trees and staying low. As the sky deepened into twilight, he lost track of how many hours had passed since he¡¯d first heard the dragons'' cries. The forest¡¯s shadows grew longer, the humidity clinging to him, but he ignored his growing hunger and thirst. Each snap of a branch or crunch of a leaf sent him scrambling up trees or crouching low, waiting for the danger to pass. You¡¯re still alive, Kael, he thought, clinging to the thought as much as he clung to the dense shadows of the forest. You¡¯re almost there.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Finally, he found it¡ªthe clearing. In the dim light, the dragon¡¯s body was even more horrifying than he could have imagined. Its shadow-streaked scales, once gleaming and powerful, lay in tatters, some half-scraped clean by thousands of tiny, ravenous mouths. The remains of its flesh were mottled and raw, dark with dried blood, with claw marks raked deep into its side. The wings, twisted and broken, sprawled lifelessly around its crushed body, their membranes torn and rotting. The orc rider lay nearby, his armor shattered, his limbs bent at unnatural angles, like a puppet whose strings had been violently cut. His face was frozen in a contorted snarl of defiance, even in death, his fingers still clutching the hilt of a broken sword. Kael¡¯s breath caught in his throat as he took it in, a mix of horror and awe flooding him. He stared at the scene, barely believing his eyes as the cold fingers of dread tickled his spine. Kael¡¯s gaze fell upon it: the egg. It lay nestled in the shallow dip of the dragon¡¯s body, close to where her belly would have been. The egg was darker than shadow, its surface like polished obsidian, with faint shimmers rippling over it as though something pulsed within. The sight sent a chill through him. The egg was everything he had come here for¡ªthe key to his freedom, his power, his future. Carefully, Kael crept into the clearing, his gaze never leaving the egg. The massive corpse loomed beside him as he approached, half-expecting the dead dragon to rise and defend her clutch. Holding his breath, he reached out, his hand brushing the egg¡¯s cool surface. A thrill coursed through him, visions flashing in his mind: soaring over Greenhaven, his father¡¯s face twisted with shock and fear, the Queen bowing to acknowledge his power. With hands shaking, he untied his belt and wrapped it tightly around the egg, securing it against his body. He glanced back at the broken dragon, part of him wanting to pry her scales loose, to collect every ounce of power that lay before him. But a crunch of leaves somewhere nearby jolted him to his senses. Tightening the knot around the egg, he looked back the way he had come. ¡°Time to go,¡± he muttered to himself, voice barely above a whisper. Hold it together. You¡¯ve got what you need. He bolted as quickly as he dared from the clearing, the egg pressed against his stomach, the scale strapped to his back. His thoughts raced, adrenaline pushing him forward faster than he had ever run. The visions of himself as a dragon rider flickered in his mind: gliding over Greenhaven, watching the villagers gape in awe, his father¡¯s shock-stricken face. No longer the pitied boy, he thought. Someone Ma could be proud of. Kael moved through the dense underbrush, his pace slower now under the weight of the precious egg strapped to his chest. The forest was nearly silent, as if mourning the fallen beasts. But the eerie calm only set him on edge, his fingers still trembling from the surge of adrenaline. He paused, his eyes scanning the ground as he moved, careful not to snap any twigs. Then, something shimmered through the trees¡ªa splash of blue scales under the faint moonlight. The second dragon lay sprawled across a rocky outcrop, its crystalline scales dull in death. Pyrope had been majestic in the sky, a whirlwind of fire and fury, but here on the ground, her broken body seemed diminished, vulnerable. Kael¡¯s gaze dropped, following the curve of her body, and then he saw it. Nestled beside her, partially hidden by her twisted wing, was another egg. Kael¡¯s breath caught, his eyes widening. Two eggs. One dragon egg was an unthinkable prize, a gift beyond measure. But two? For a moment, he was paralyzed by the sheer possibility. Let the Queens take one of the eggs he thought, almost dizzy with exhilaration. Swallowing his awe, he moved forward, hands trembling as he reached for the second egg. It was slightly smaller and a deep, shimmering black, like an ocean at midnight. He looped one arm around the second egg, nestling it securely against his chest. The other arm held the scale from the serpent pressed close, their combined weight solid and reassuring, a physical reminder of the power he held. Or would hold¡ªonce he escaped. He adjusted the eggs securely against him and pressed onward, his footsteps light. It was only when a strange smell hit his nostrils¡ªthick, acrid smoke¡ªthat he faltered. He stopped and lifted his nose, inhaling deeply as he tried to determine its direction. At first, he thought he¡¯d wandered dangerously close to the battle lines between humans and orcs, but this scent was different, tainted with an undercurrent of charred wood and burnt thatch. A wave of dread settled over him. Greenhaven. Kael broke into a jog, darting through the trees until he reached a ridge overlooking the valley below. His stomach twisted with exhilaration as he stared down at the town that had raised him. Greenhaven was overrun with monsters, dark forms moving like shadows across the town¡¯s winding streets, flickering in and out of sight among the burning rooftops and crumbling walls. The old stone houses, meticulously crafted by the masons of Greenhaven, stood mostly intact, but their thatched roofs blazed like torches, casting the town in an orange-red glow. Smoke billowed upward, thick and choking, while the shrieks and cries pierced the night, sending chills through him. You¡¯re free now, he told himself, his chest swelling with an intoxicating thrill. Greenhaven¡¯s chains are gone. No more father, no more pitying looks. The thought was liberating, exhilarating. He almost laughed, a giddy feeling bubbling up inside him. But as his gaze swept over the burning buildings, a pang of sadness cut through his exhilaration. The library¡ªits sturdy timbers and shelves full of worn, ancient texts¡ªwas now a roaring pyre. The dusty, ink-stained desk where he¡¯d pored over rune books and old maps was gone, lost in the flames. It¡¯s just a building, he tried to tell himself, but the sight stirred a deep sorrow within him, a sliver of grief lodged in the back of his mind. The library had been his haven, a refuge even when the rest of Greenhaven had felt like a prison. His smile faded, and he clenched his fists. The flames devouring Greenhaven were consuming part of him too. And then came the thought of the people¡ªAria, who always encouraged him; the old baker who always offered him a slice of sweet bread whenever he passed by; the middle-aged couple who managed the library, their kind faces guiding him through countless hours of study. They were gone now, lost to the chaos and flames. The weight of their absence crushed down on him, deepening the sadness that coursed through him. Despite all that happened, he couldn¡¯t ignore the practicalities pressing in around him. He had no food, no water, no supplies, and an empty crossbow. If I keep running, I¡¯ll be dead by morning. He scanned the smoldering streets below, gauging his chances of slipping into town once the monsters had moved on. I¡¯ll have to fight. He grimaced, thinking of the possibilities. There might be weapons left near the gates, somewhere the guards fell. Anything would be better than an empty crossbow if he wanted to survive until morning. With a heavy heart, Kael turned his back on the burning town and slid quietly back into the shadows of the forest, crouching among the thick foliage as he waited. He would watch, he would wait, and when the moment was right, he¡¯d strike. Chapter 4: The Promise of Ash and Crystals Chapter 4: The Promise of Ash and Crystals Lyanna lay still in the crevice, clutching her blades tightly, every sense tuned to the sounds of battle around her. The first Skybreaker blast had been deafening, its impact like the roar of thunder, leaving her ears ringing and her heart hammering in her chest. Two more explosions followed, each one shattering the air, shaking the earth until her very bones vibrated. Each time the cannon fired, the air seemed to grow heavier, thick with a strange, oppressive stillness that filled the aftermath. And then¡­ silence. Slowly, Lyanna released a breath she hadn¡¯t realized she was holding. As the ringing in her ears faded, she dragged herself from the crevice and rose to stand on the edge of what had once been a battlefield. She blinked, adjusting to the dim, smoky light as she took in the carnage the Skybreaker cannon had left in its wake. The once-open ground was nearly unrecognizable, transformed into a solid, glassy black¡ªthe ash of the Burnt Sea melted and fused by the cannon¡¯s fire. The blackened battlefield glistened, as though the blood-soaked ash had been frozen into a dark, solid mirror. Lyanna felt a chill creep down her spine. This was destruction beyond anything she¡¯d ever seen, beyond anything she¡¯d even imagined. Around her, there was little left of the camp. In its place was a massive crater, its edges just visible above the dunes, like the gaping maw of some forgotten beast. Bodies that had once littered the field were now mere shadows, burned away to nothing. She scanned the battlefield, and her gaze snagged on one of the three cannons¡ªtoppled, twisted beyond recognition, its gears and metal mangled beyond repair. The others, she noted grimly, were gone¡ªeither concealed by orcish magic or dragged away by the retreating forces. But it was the central platform that truly caught her attention. Stripped of its destructive power, its gears and wheels shattered or missing, it remained perched atop the dune. And erupting from its heart, a massive crystal pulsed with an inner light, its jagged edges glinting in the smoky haze. Lyanna recognized the destructive beauty of its structure instantly¡ªKarina¡¯s handiwork. She took a deep breath and then raised her voice. ¡°Soldiers of Mirrorguard! Resurface! By my command!¡± Figures began to emerge from the darkness, climbing out from crevices, craters, and makeshift shelters. Lyanna watched them carefully, noting how each carried visible or hidden wounds¡ªscrapes, bruises, or perhaps worse scars they wore on their souls. Over half of her army had survived. ¡°Enough,¡± she told herself, biting back the ache that threatened to overtake her. ¡°A Skybreaker for half my army¡­¡± she murmured, her voice laced with grim satisfaction. ¡°A fair trade.¡± Men and women could be replaced, after all. But the cannons¡ªthey were irreplaceable. The secrets to their construction had died centuries ago with Lord Hammerfall, a relic of the wars against the Fallen One. Losing even one was a blow no army could afford, not even the orcs. Her eyes scanned the smoky horizon, searching. Karina¡­ where are you? She felt the familiar mix of anger and worry tug at her. Her sister had flown off just as the cannons fired, too stubborn, too reckless to stay grounded. For a moment, Lyanna saw only dark clouds, but then a shadow darted through the sky¡ªPyrope, her sister¡¯s dragon, locked in fierce pursuit of a massive black dragon. Their silhouettes danced, stark and violent against the bruised sky. ¡°Karina, the great hero,¡± Lyanna said to herself, her lips twisted in a sour grin. ¡°While you soar, I¡¯m left to gather what¡¯s left of our forces. The glory of heroics for you, the blood and dust for me.¡± Next to her, the soldiers were beginning to rally under the guidance of Karina¡¯s aides, faces still pale, eyes wide from the near-annihilation they¡¯d barely escaped. Edda, one of Karina¡¯s most trusted aides, hurried over to her. Gaunt and severe, Edda¡¯s hair was pulled back so tightly it seemed to stretch her expression into perpetual disapproval. ¡°My lady,¡± Edda said, bowing, though there was tension in her movement. ¡°Your sister commanded us to remain hidden until further orders.¡± Lyanna¡¯s gaze remained on the sky, where her sister and the dragon had disappeared into the gathering storm clouds. Continue soaring Karina. I will gain the recognition I need without the help you and Pyrope promised me. Only when they were truly out of sight did she look down at Edda.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Then, Edda, while my sister¡¯s occupied, I am the acting commander. Her orders no longer stand.¡± ¡°But¡­ Lady Lyanna, surely¡ª¡± ¡°You heard me,¡± Lyanna said, a note of finality in her tone. She¡¯d been humiliated enough for one day. ¡°Send a scout to locate House Blackthorn¡¯s forces. I need numbers. I need to know what remains of their forces.¡± Edda hesitated, glancing back at the nervous ranks of soldiers. ¡°My Lady, the soldiers ¡­ they¡¯re wary. They fear a trap. For the orcs to use the cannons, to show they can move them at will¡ªno other nation can. They wouldn¡¯t risk it unless they were confident of total victory. The army¡­ they won¡¯t obe-¡± ¡°Simply follow my orders, Edda,¡± Lyanna cut her off sharply, her voice leaving no room for dissent. ¡°I¡¯ll handle the rest. Unless, of course, you wish to challenge my authority?¡± For a moment, the aide froze, her face caught between loyalty and fear. But fear won out, and she nodded, hurrying away to do as she was told. Lyanna felt a surge of satisfaction; she¡¯d given them a glimpse of her authority, her power. But it wouldn¡¯t be enough. They needed a reminder¡ªsomething stronger, something to shake them from the paralysis of fear. They need to remember who I am¡ªwhat I¡¯m capable of. Lyanna turned her focus inward. She pressed her thumb against Ember¡¯s hilt, feeling the flickering remnants of its power beneath her hand. It was barely half full. Not enough, but it would have to do. With a steadying breath, she pressed her hands to the crystalline ash beneath her feet, channeling Ember¡¯s energy to launch herself into the air. For a fleeting, exhilarating moment, she soared. The wind lashed against her face, and she felt a wild rush of power. They will see, she thought, heart racing, even as she felt the searing pain tear through her legs upon landing, the bones shattering with the impact. She gritted her teeth, forcing back a scream as she reached for Scarlet¡¯s essence, draining the last reserves to force her bones to knit together. She could almost feel Ember¡¯s quiet disapproval, as if chiding her for her recklessness, while Scarlet pulsed with fierce approval, urging her onward. As she rose, her legs trembling, Lyanna surveyed the soldiers, now watching her with wide, uncertain eyes. Yes, she thought. Now you understand. Lady Lyanna Mirrorguard is simply not just a stand-in. I am your commander. And far from cowed by orcish firepower. Taking another deep breath, Lyanna walked with slow, deliberate steps to the edge of the dune, her hands raised, trusting Edda to amplify her voice. The camp fell silent, and the weight of her presence demanded their attention. ¡°I see fear in your eyes. You¡¯ve seen what we¡¯re up against. You¡¯ve felt the wrath of the Skybreaker, seen the crater it left in our ranks.¡± She let her gaze sweep over them, meeting the eyes of each soldier who dared look back at her. ¡°I¡¯m scared too. But we have a duty. To the crown, to the people we swore to protect. And fear cannot take that from us.¡± ¡°The orc bastards have shown their desperation by using a weapon meant to annihilate us. But we survived. And they used those cannons for a reason. They are protecting something¡ªa secret worth slaughtering our brothers and sisters in arms. And it is our duty to uncover it.¡± She saw the soldiers shifting, their fear beginning to mingle with something else. A spark of determination. Good, she thought. Let them hold onto that. ¡°And duty does not go unrewarded,¡± Lyanna continued, letting a slight smile touch her lips. ¡°In the ruins of that Skybreaker cannon lie essence crystals, enough to enrich even the most impoverished among you. I vow to divide them. Three parts will go to the soldiers who follow me into battle. Half a part for those of you who serve as our support, and half a part for the priests, that they may continue to protect our spirits. One part will go to the gods and goddesses who favor us, and three to our queen.¡± She watched as the realization dawned in their eyes, their initial fear giving way to shouts of excitement and pride. She could feel it¡ªthis was what they needed. The promise of reward, of something to gain from all this suffering, was powerful. Their cheers rose, swelling with newfound purpose. Lyanna smiled; in one fell stroke, she had secured their devotion, pleased the queen and her dragon with her promise of tribute, and secured her family fortunes. For the two shares of the crystals that would go to her family would be more than enough to cover any losses¡ªand to profit from whatever reward the queen might choose to bestow. And as the cheering ebbed, Lyanna raised her hand again. ¡°Priests of Arthor,¡± she commanded. ¡°Ask the Father to bless us as we fulfill our duty.¡± The priests, robed in dark blue and adorned with silver pendants, began to move among the ranks, offering blessings, each one a prayer for protection. A few soldiers clutched small tokens, tiny reminders of their loved ones, as they whispered quick prayers to Amoria, the Goddess of Love, invoking her protection so that they could survive the upcoming trials and make it back home to their loved ones. Lyanna¡¯s lips curled into a cold, satisfied smile. Today, she had won their loyalty, fortified their purpose, and pleased the queen. Her essence reserves were nearly drained, but it didn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ve staked my claim on this battle, she thought. Soon, that dragon egg¡ªand the orc¡¯s secret¡ªwill be ours. Chapter 5: Ashes Of Strategy Chapter 5: Ashes Of Strategy Lyanna stumbled, her vision blurring as she climbed down the dune. Each step sent fresh waves of pain through her legs, barely held together by the last dregs of essence she¡¯d managed to salvage. Fool, she berated herself, bitterly savoring the anger. All that power, wasted for a show of authority. Now I¡¯m useless, my bones feel like shattered glass, and I¡¯ve barely enough essence left to move a grain of ash. When she reached the bottom of the dune, she sagged against the ground, too exhausted to care her image. Calm, control, she thought, attempting to steady her erratic breathing. She closed her eyes, reaching inward to scrape together any remaining fragments of energy. She needed to regain strength, if only to stave off the aching exhaustion. The attempt at meditation was pitiful, her focus slipping with every heartbeat. Just as she was on the edge of settling into the rhythm, a scout¡¯s footsteps broke her concentration. She looked up, irritated, but she quickly schooled her features into a mask of authority. ¡°My lady,¡± he panted, stopping short and bowing. ¡°The first Blackthorn army has suffered catastrophic losses. Alec Blackthorn alone survives, along with a fraction of his forces. He wishes to join with us.¡± He paused, his voice trembling. ¡°The Duke¡­ his father¡­ has fallen, along with the main Blackthorn army.¡± The words sank heavily into Lyanna¡¯s mind, her fists clenching at the implication. Protocol, she thought, fury rising within her. It demands that our forces now merge. Alec will be hungry for any remaining spoils, and he¡¯s entitled to a share. She needed a reason, a real, ironclad excuse to delay meeting him¡ªat least until she¡¯d secured her claims. But what could possibly work? Perhaps she could claim her forces needed rest to recover, or that Alec should secure the supply lines before joining them. No, that won¡¯t work. They¡¯ll call it cowardice. She clenched her teeth, running through one excuse after another. She needed something undeniable. Something that no one would question. As she scanned the landscape for inspiration, her gaze settled on the twisted, ruined frame of a Skybreaker cannon platform perched on the opposite dune. Its platform remained intact, sturdy even with its wheels and gears stripped away, and a massive crystal jutted from the center like a broken blade. The weapon itself might be dead, but the platform¡­ Now there¡¯s an idea. ¡°Scout,¡± she said calmly, ¡°tell Alec to meet us at the Skybreaker platform on the eastern dune. Say it provides both protection and vantage, given the terrain and the risk of ambush.¡± ¡°As you command, Lady Lyanna.¡± ¡°Oh, and one more thing,¡± she added as he turned to leave. ¡°Send word to the supply corps to bring essentials to the platform. And tell Edda to meet me before we march. Quickly, now.¡± Once he left, Lyanna sank down on the cool side of the dune, letting herself breathe. For a few moments, she allowed the sounds to fade into silence, her mind and body still. Just a moment¡¯s reprieve. Her eyelids grew heavy, and exhaustion settled over her like a shroud. But it lasted only a few minutes before a voice roused her from the haze of near-sleep. ¡°My lady, we¡¯re ready to march.¡± Edda¡¯s voice, calm but weary, roused her. Lyanna opened her eyes. The aide looked as haggard as Lyanna felt, her usual severe expression tight but steady. ¡°Edda,¡± Lyanna began, ¡°we¡¯ll march to the Skybreaker platform. I want the camp established there and basic supplies delivered within the hour. And post a guard¡ªour most loyal and trustworthy soldiers only.¡± ¡°A guard, my lady?¡± Edda frowned, calculating. ¡°The platform can hold perhaps a hundred soldiers at most. The full army¡­¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°Will pursue the orcs,¡± Lyanna finished. ¡°The platform is only to secure the supplies and crystals. I¡¯ll need you to organize the aides. We¡¯ll plan as we move.¡± Edda nodded, her frown deepening. ¡°Understood, Lady Lyanna.¡± As they marched, Lyanna surveyed what little remained of their forces. They¡¯d once commanded nearly nine thousand soldiers across three corps, but now, they were down to a single, battered corps, less than half its strength. Worse, they¡¯d lost their griffin riders. Without the griffins, the orcs had a lead, a lead they could only close with forced marches that would wear down her soldiers to the bone. And if they flee too deep into the Burnt Sea, I¡¯ll have no choice but to turn back, she thought bitterly. The scorched wasteland was full of monsters, who would claim them just as mercilessly as any orc ambush. She shoved the thought aside, focusing on the distant horizon. Soon, Alec¡¯s battered forces would be in view. Rumors had already begun rippling through her ranks¡ªwhispers of unification and reinforcement that lifted her soldiers¡¯ spirits as much as they darkened her own. At the crest of a dune in the haze of ash and smoke, she saw them¡ªAlec¡¯s ragged survivors, no more than a few hundred, their banners drooping, their armor dulled. Her soldiers murmured, their eyes wide with curiosity and relief at the sight of reinforcement. She ignored them, forcing herself to project a calm authority she didn¡¯t feel. As they passed the scorched carcass of a wyvern, Lyanna¡¯s jaw tightened. The dragon riders would have cut down those orcs within a day. But all four dragon riders that the Queen has assigned them had been lost in the first battle, barely trained, sent to bolster her sister¡¯s heroics, all of them slain before they¡¯d even reached their third year at the Queen¡¯s University for dragon riders. She couldn¡¯t even count on Alec for such resources¡ªHouse Blackthorn no longer has a member among the Queen¡äs champions. Not that she would ever stoop to relying on Alec¡¯s aid, dragon or not. It was only because of Karina¡¯s rank among the five Queen¡¯s champions that they¡¯d even had dragon support at all. While House Blackthorn had a champion, like all major noble houses. Their position among the champions had be claimed by Karina and Pyrope when she¡¯d bested Duke Gideon and his dragon three times in the dueling pits, sparking the fierce rivalry between their houses. But rivalry or not, protocol was protocol. Alec¡¯s battered forces would join hers, and together they would chase down the orcs. As much as she despised the thought, she knew that this was the only way to retain even a semblance of control. And if fortune favored them, perhaps she could seize what they both desired¡ªthe queen¡¯s favor, the crystals, and the honor of victory¡ªbefore Alec could lay claim to any of it. As they continued, Lyanna scanned the sky, narrowing her eyes against the ash-laden haze. Where are you, Karina? She combed the clouds for any sign of her sister and Pyrope. Every passing moment heightened her unease. Dragon battles were either quick, vicious affairs lasting minutes, or long, drawn-out struggles that went on for hours. But by now, there should have been some signal¡ªsmoke, a dragon¡¯s roar, something. Beside her, Edda fell into step, her face carefully composed despite her own exhaustion. ¡°My lady,¡± she said gently, ¡°try not to worry. Karina and Pyrope are stronger than any opponent they could face. She¡¯ll return.¡± Lyanna¡¯s mouth tightened, her usual stoicism cracking. ¡°You don¡¯t understand, Edda. Karina and Pyrope¡­ they¡¯re family.¡± Her voice faltered, softer. ¡°I can¡¯t¡ªwell, I simply can¡¯t lose her. You¡­ you wouldn¡¯t understand.¡± At that, a flicker of surprise crossed Edda¡¯s face. ¡°Hasn¡¯t Karina ever told you about us?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Lyanna snapped. ¡°She told me you¡¯re close. And that you¡¯re¡­ trusted.¡± She trailed off, a little uncertainly. Karina¡¯s mention of Edda had always been ambiguous, leaving her puzzled more than reassured. A small, amused chuckle escaped Edda¡¯s lips, catching Lyanna off guard. ¡°Close?¡± she repeated, a hint of mischief in her tone. ¡°We¡¯re not just close, Lady Lyanna. Karina and I have been¡­ intimate for years now.¡± She tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with laughter. ¡°Trusted aide, yes, but also her lover.¡± Lyanna¡¯s cheeks flushed, the realization hitting her like a slap. ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t realize,¡± she stammered. ¡°When Karina mentioned it, I was only twelve¡­¡± ¡°Surely, it was a little clearer to you later,¡± Edda teased, raising an eyebrow. ¡°All those dinners, all those late-night conversations, all those looks we shared? Or the gifts she sent with me for your birthdays?¡± Lyanna opened her mouth to respond, but a flurry of hoofbeats drew her attention. A scout approached, pale-faced and wide-eyed, her horse snorting with effort as she reined it to a halt. The scout dismounted quickly, dipping into a hurried bow before speaking. ¡°My lady, we¡¯ve received alarming reports from the front scouts. A¡­ a beast tide is heading this way.¡± Interchapter: Steel and Sky Over Kraggaths Hollow Interchapter: Steel and Sky Over Kraggath''s Hollow Captain Ruzik Skybreaker stepped out of the Skybreaker Syndicate¡¯s towering headquarters, its wrought iron and dark-stone facade emblazoned with the clan¡¯s sigil: an airship soaring over the jagged peaks of Kraggath''s Hollow. A gust of wind buffeted his face, carrying with it the mingling smells of engine oil, smoke, and the sour tang of swamp gases that rose from the capital¡¯s muddy veins below. He descended the steps, boots ringing against the iron walkway, and boarded his waiting airship. The vessel, sleek yet imposing, hovered with the low hum of essence-fueled engines. Like a ship of old but with modern ingenuity, it boasted a massive balloon above, shimmering under the afternoon light. The balloon¡¯s fabric was reinforced with woven essence strands, containing hot air generated by a rune-infused heating engine. A second engine at the rear powered a great fan that pushed the ship forward, slicing through the heavy swamp air. Beside this proud craft loomed its even more impressive siblings, the Skystriders, immense airships that would one day rule the skies and dominate both trade and war. Ruzik¡¯s pride swelled as he surveyed the sight. His life''s work had transformed Kraggath''s Hollow from a backwater swamp city into a real power. The muddy rivers that crisscrossed the city, once teeming with small, overburdened boats, now held far fewer of those laboring vessels. Even the poorest goblins were beginning to afford basic airship rides, lifting them free from the swampy, claustrophobic canals. And yet, pride alone could not quell the unease creeping through his mind. He clutched the papers he carried, design plans for the Skystriders¡¯ engines and heating cores, each blueprint representing years of sleepless nights, of obsessively refining rune etchings until perfection. It was the work that had vaulted the goblin kingdom to power, making them contenders on the world stage. But today, he prepared to let that secret slip into other hands¡ªRintra¡¯s hands. Or rather, into Eldara''s temple. This is madness, he thought, jaw tightening. Opening the doors for other kingdoms to copy us, to challenge us. But it has to be worth it. It must be necessary. His love, Rintra, had insisted. She wouldn¡¯t betray him or lead him astray¡­ or so he desperately hoped. ¡°Captain,¡± the ship¡¯s driver called, steering the airship toward a massive structure that loomed from the swamp like a citadel of silver and stone. The Temple of Eldara, the Goddess of Wisdom, stood tall and unyielding, its walls etched with arcane symbols and its spires wrapped in wisps of essence light. The ship touched down, engines winding down with a final sigh. Ruzik nodded and stepped off. Rintra Fizzlespark waited by the temple¡¯s grand staircase, her hair an untamed flame of curls, eyes like twin storms of blue lightning. Her priestess robes were stained with oil and smudged with soot, as always, but Ruzik found her utterly radiant. They exchanged a kiss, warm and fleeting, before slipping back into business. ¡°Everything ready?¡± she asked, her voice calm yet brimming with energy. Ruzik straightened, trying to mask his reluctance. ¡°I¡¯ve brought the plans, but I¡¯d rather we bargain for the Skystrider¡¯s body only, not the engines.¡± His voice hardened. ¡°The engines are our real advantage. If we give those away, we¡¯re arming our enemies.¡± Rintra frowned, the light in her eyes flickering with something Ruzik couldn¡¯t quite place. ¡°You know Eldara won¡¯t settle for that. The Goddess demands true knowledge, not half-truths. She¡¯ll expect you to be honest.¡± Ruzik clenched his jaw, his mind racing. Eldara¡¯s wisdom be damned, he wanted to say. But Rintra¡¯s gaze softened as if sensing his inner turmoil, and his resistance faltered. She led him up the stairs and into the temple, through halls lined with shelves crammed full of ancient tomes and glowing runes. They entered a quiet reading room where a scroll lay on a polished stone table, its seals broken. Together, they poured over its contents, their heads close, their breaths almost synchronizing. The scroll held schematics and theories on conductive materials¡ªprecisely the research Ruzik had feared, and hoped, to find. The Significance of Conductive Materials in Rune Magic: A Study by Elven Scholar, Aelindra Moonwhisper In the realm of arcane studies, the material chosen for Rune Magic is of paramount importance. The base material''s Essence conductivity directly impacts the potency, precision, and versatility of inscribed spells. Materials with higher conductivity enhance spell power and allow for a wider range of magical affinities. This article explores key discoveries across various races, highlighting the dwarves'' metallurgical prowess, human ingenuity, and the unparalleled properties of Dragon Scale, before focusing on a groundbreaking orcish innovation. Rune Magic, requiring the inscription of spells onto a physical base, relies heavily on the Essence conductivity of that material. This conductivity directly influences the potency, precision, and versatility of the inscribed spells. Higher Essence conductivity not only enhances the power of spells but also allows for a greater range of magical affinities to be channeled effectively.Stolen novel; please report. The dwarves, renowned for their metallurgical prowess, have unearthed a series of alloys that have revolutionized the practice of Rune Magic. Among these discoveries, two alloys stand out for their exceptional properties. The first, known as Poor Dwarf¡¯s Mithril or (Red Steel as it is known among adventurers), exhibits an extraordinary ability to conduct Essence of all affinities, making it an ideal choice for general-purpose Rune Magic. The second, Elemental Bronze, offers unparalleled conductivity for light and heat, enabling the casting of highly specialized and potent spells. Humans, too, have made significant strides in this field, with the creation of Arcanist''s Steel and Mage''s Silver. While Arcanist''s Steel improves the conductivity of all magical affinities, Mage''s Silver is particularly attuned to the more subtle and complex affinities, such as illusion and enchantment. We have also discovered that a combination of 99% silver and 1% Mithril, when bathed in different Mana types during the etching process, can rival or even surpass the conductivity of Dragon scale when tested on the Essence types it was bathed in. It has come to be known among our smiths as the Moonlight Silver for it pearly glow.
The Orcish Revolution in Heat-Based Rune Magic: Aelindra''s Addendum The orcs, often overlooked in the realm of arcane advancement, have achieved a monumental breakthrough in Rune Magic materials science. They have developed an alloy that surpasses all known metals and alloys in its ability to convert Essence into heat. This innovation has not only changed heat-based Rune Magic forever but has also propelled significant advancements in orcish engineering, including improvements upon Dwarf Lord Hammer Fall''s steam engine designs, leading to the development of flying machines and other mechanical forms of transportation. My team and I have spent countless days and nights analyzing reports of orcish imports and exports, attempting to decipher the composition of this revolutionary alloy. We have narrowed down the potential components to a dozen or so key materials. However, determining the precise percentages and confirming the presence of each suspected element requires meticulous and potentially hazardous experimentation. Some theorized components might not even be present in the final alloy, further complicating the analysis. Our current list of suspected components includes: The discovery of this alloy¡¯s exact composition could revolutionize numerous fields, and we will continue our research with the utmost diligence. The implications of this orcish innovation are far-reaching and deserve the attention of all scholars of Rune Magic. Once they finished reading, Ruzik turned to her, a glint of determination breaking through his anxiety. ¡°If we can beat the elves to mastering this alloy, our fleet won¡¯t just compete¡ªwe¡¯ll be untouchable. We can iterate faster, build more ships, give our entire industry and empire a rebirth.¡± ¡°But first,¡± Rintra completed for him, voice low yet sure, ¡°we need the alloy. The orcs have done something no one else could, and we¡¯ll need to replicate it. The experiments will cost lives, yes. Goblin lives.¡± Her words hung heavy in the air, and Ruzik¡¯s heart twisted. They were a people who thrived on innovation, on pushing boundaries where others feared. But at what cost? And yet, he knew the elves would never dare tread as ruthlessly. Their love of life made them careful, too slow to match goblin ingenuity. ¡°It¡¯s for both knowledge and the empire,¡± Rintra said, echoing his unspoken resolve. ¡°If we¡¯re to survive against the other kingdoms, we must risk what they won¡¯t.¡± Ruzik stared at her, the woman who shared his ambition and his fear. He squeezed her hand, resolve hardening like forged steel. The world was a merciless place, but he had to believe they could bend it to their will, with wisdom¡ªand the harsh truths it demanded¡ªas their guide. Chapter 6: The Hunting Ground Chapter 6: The Hunting Ground Kael¡¯s limbs ached with exhaustion as he climbed the slope, carrying his precious cargo close against his chest. His pulse thundered in his ears as he moved through the thinning trees and finally found it¡ªa secluded ring of stone formations, a natural shelter hunters used to stash kills during the day. The wide, flat rocks surrounded a shallow depression at the center, obscuring it from view. Here, if nowhere else, he might find a temporary sanctuary. And he would need it; the forest was more alive than ever now, filled with rustling leaves and distant snarls. He ducked beneath the outer rock and slipped into the center of the stone ring, carefully lowering himself to the ground. Here, at least, he was hidden from sight, sheltered enough to catch his breath. He unslung the eggs from his chest and carefully placed them on a patch of soft moss in the middle of the circle. Then, he settled the serpent scale beside them, the edges of the scale sharp enough to glint in the fading sunlight. For a moment, Kael allowed himself to simply stare. The two eggs lay side by side, each of them filled with the promise of unimaginable power, yet they looked so still, so fragile in the dimming light, even if the god¡¯s protection made them invulnerable. He wanted to reach out, to run his hand over the smooth surface of each egg, but he stopped himself. His throat was painfully dry, and a dull ache in his stomach reminded him he hadn¡¯t eaten or drunk anything since he¡¯d entered the forest. ¡°Guess it¡¯s time to forage, then,¡± he muttered to himself. He cast a last glance at the eggs before turning to the forest beyond the stone ring. The roots his mother had shown him as a boy would have to do. They were common enough, and with a bit of luck, he¡¯d find a few that would stave off his hunger and thirst. Clenching his jaw, he slipped back into the trees, his eyes darting from the forest floor to the dense foliage around him. Kael''s hands worked quickly, digging at the base of shrubs, pulling up roots and peeling off their skins, examining them for any telltale signs of poison. He tried to remember the feel of his mother¡¯s hands, the patience with which she had pulled each plant from the earth, showing him how to survive even when food was scarce. He missed her in this moment more than he had in years. But he couldn¡¯t dwell on it; survival demanded every ounce of focus he had left. As he pulled up another root into, he heard it¡ªa faint crunch, the subtle sound of branches snapping underfoot. He froze, listening intently, his fingers instinctively moving to the crossbow at his side. Keep it together, Kael. The sound came again, closer this time, and an unmistakable sound drifted through the air, sharp and piercing. He knew that sound. Wolves. Without thinking, he abandoned the roots he¡¯d gathered, saw them falling into muddy soil, wincing internally as he shoving himself up a nearby tree. His foot slipped against the damp bark, sending him into a desperate scramble. He clawed his way up, heart racing, until he was perched a good ten feet above the forest floor, holding his breath as he watched the shadows below. A moment later, they appeared¡ªa pack of massive, twisted wolves, their gray and black fur matted and slick with mud. They moved in a line, sniffing the air with low growls, their eyes glinting in the dimming light. The lead wolf lifted its nose, catching his scent. Kael''s breath hitched as the creature¡¯s red eyes turned up toward him, narrowing with a cold, savage intelligence. One by one, the other wolves moved closer, sniffing at the base of the tree. Their nostrils flared as they scented the roots he¡¯d dropped in the mud, and for a moment, they focused on the food, snapping and snarling at each other as they jostled for a piece. Kael gripped his crossbow, sweat beading on his brow as he calculated his odds. He¡¯d barely had enough time for his crossbow to gather enough essence for even one shot. Not that it would have mattered if he had enough time. The essence pool made out of Arcanist¡¯s Steel could only hold enough essence for a pair of shot and he knew he couldn¡¯t take on a pack of wolves with a two bolts. His fingers traced the etchings on the crossbow¡¯s string, his mind cursing his decision to forge it from metal. Should¡¯ve listened to Aria. If he¡¯d chosen something less powerful, something he could string and pull without the need for magic, he¡¯d be able to use a quiver of bolts. The wolves continued to circle, and Kael¡¯s hand tightened on the crossbow¡¯s handle. He could feel the raw potential humming beneath his fingertips, but he held back. Firing now would do nothing but make him a target. He grit his teeth, swallowing the helplessness clawing up his throat. You can¡¯t fight them, Kael. Not yet. Minutes stretched on in tense silence as the wolves prowled beneath him, circling his tree and snarling, their glistening eyes never leaving him. It felt like an eternity before, finally, one of them sniffed the air again, huffing as it turned away from the tree. The rest of the pack followed suit, their ears twitching as they stalked back into the underbrush, their figures melting into the shadows. Kael stayed frozen in place, his fingers trembling around his crossbow as he listened to their footsteps fade into the distance. When he was sure they were gone, he exhaled a slow, shaky breath, feeling his limbs unclench, though his hands still felt numb with tension. He looked down at the muddy patch below, the roots he¡¯d so carefully gathered lying there half-buried, unusable. The sun had dipped even lower, the sky above gaining streaks of bruised purple as twilight threatened to descend over the forest. You¡¯re wasting time. He needed water, but there was no point in searching for more roots; the wolves had likely trampled any he might have salvaged. He would have to find a stream if he wanted to quench his thirst and wash what little he had left. Quietly, he slipped down from the tree, his steps cautious as he scanned the shadows, checking for any sign of the wolves. The forest seemed still, but he moved carefully, slipping between the trees, his eyes and ears alert for any movement. His heart hammered as he crept through the dense underbrush, the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves filling his nose. The search dragged on, the forest growing darker by the second. Every branch that snapped beneath his feet, every rustle of leaves seemed to echo like a warning. Kael¡¯s throat felt like sandpaper, and his stomach tightened, both from hunger and from the constant threat of being hunted himself. He tightened his grip on his crossbow, reassuring himself with its weight, even if he could barely use it. If he could find a stream, he could make it through the night, but only if he kept his wits about him. Finally, he heard it¡ªa faint trickling, like a whisper through the silence. He followed the sound, weaving between trees until he reached a narrow, shallow stream cutting through the undergrowth. The water was dark but clear enough that he could see the glint of stones at the bottom. Relief washed over him as he knelt at the edge, cupping his hands and scooping up the water, letting it flow over his parched throat.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The chill of the water sharpened his senses, grounding him as he drank. Once he¡¯d had his fill, he splashed his face, letting the coolness ease some of the exhaustion clinging to his bones. He gathered the small bundle of muddy roots, rinsing them in the stream before he bit down on one, chewing through its bitterness. It was little more than a mouthful, but it would keep him going for a while longer. As he crouched there, Kael allowed himself a single moment of reprieve, the day¡¯s events threatened to overwhelm him. Not time or the place. He thought, pushing through his emotions as they clawed at him, trying to pull him under. Eventually, they stopped clawing, let Kael go but they still sat on shoulders, weighing down every step he took towards his spot. Kael moved through the forest in the encroaching twilight, carrying his bundle of damp roots and feeling the weight of exhaustion seeping into his bones. The sky had nearly swallowed the last threads of daylight, leaving only a soft, ghostly glow. As he approached the stone ring, he made a mental note to gather wood. He''d need a fire tonight¡ªto keep himself warm, to keep the wolves away, and perhaps, just perhaps, to ward off the hollow ache gnawing at him from the inside out. He scavenged for branches, working by the faint light cast by tiny, bioluminescent insects that floated lazily around him. Their soft glow illuminated his path in the darkness, and he was thankful for it; moving by touch alone was a fool¡¯s risk. Eventually, he stumbled across a rock as large as his fist, its edges sharpened and worn by years exposed to the elements. He gripped it, imagining the runes he would etch tonight. But first¡ªthe fire. Kael returned to the ring, laying down the wood and arranging it with practiced movements, then coaxed a small spark from flint he''d scavenged weeks earlier. Flames flickered to life, casting a dim orange glow over the stones, the eggs, and the serpent scale beside them. Kael knelt beside the fire, staring down at the roots he¡¯d gathered, his stomach twisting with hunger but tightening in disgust as he forced himself to chew them. They tasted like bitter earth, and the roots¡¯ acrid flavor stung his tongue. Several times, his stomach lurched, threatening to empty what little he¡¯d managed to force down, but he pushed through, focusing on survival over the revolt in his gut. Each root was survival, a taste of defiance against the gnawing emptiness. So he forced it down, his throat convulsing as his stomach rebelled, but he knew he needed strength¡ªno matter how vile the meal. With the roots barely settling, he grabbed the stone he¡¯d found and turned to the scale lying beside him, feeling the weight of exhaustion in his limbs. Yet beneath the exhaustion, there was a glimmer of purpose. Gingerly, he held the scale in his lap, examining its texture under the wavering firelight. He¡¯d seen dragon scale only once, a memory that now seemed hazy and distant. This serpent scale wasn¡¯t as vibrant, but it was tough, dense¡ªthere was power locked within it. He gripped the stone tighter, imagining the runes he would etch tonight and what this scale might hold. His fingers traced a tentative line across its rough surface, planning each stroke, each curve. The first rune he needed was the anchor¡ªa spiral shape with three rings embedded in a V, a basic conduit. It would tap into the scale¡¯s essence pool, drawing only what energy he needed, but nothing more. Efficiency would be his limit; if he could carve the rune with enough precision, it might draw around 20% of the scale¡¯s essence. Any higher was impossible with this makeshift tool, but that would have to be enough. He pressed the sharp edge of the rock to the scale and dragged it in a small, controlled arc, his hand moving with practiced concentration. Each line, each curve, mattered. The rune began to take shape, a slow dance of spirals and rings as he scratched deeper, glancing frequently to ensure every line aligned just right. Even the faintest mistake could lead to a weak rune, or worse¡ªa failure. He focused, his breathing slow and shallow, his hand steady. Hours passed, each scrape of the stone against the scale wearing down both rock and strength. When he finished, Kael straightened his back, muscles aching but the first rune complete. He brushed the excess dust from the surface, his eyes scanning his handiwork. The lines were deep and precise, the spiral catching the firelight in its grooves. A faint hum seemed to reverberate from the scale, a promising sign. He exhaled a quiet breath of relief. He¡¯d achieved something¡ªsome foothold of control in this cursed night. Now, he began on the second rune. It was the Restore rune, the lifeline that would ensure the scale reverted to a protected state. He etched each bewildering line and curve with as much care as he had the first, though he couldn¡¯t understand their purpose. The texts in Greenhaven¡¯s library had only shown the most basic runes, with no explanation of their complexities. His father had called the books ¡°scribbles for fools¡± but Kael had read them anyway, hoping to find something useful. As he carved, his mind wandered back to those nights spent poring over the library¡¯s dimly lit pages, Aria by his side, laughing at some of his frustrated groans as she practiced her sword forms. After what felt like an eternity, the final stroke of the rune was done. Kael felt the pull of sleep, but he wouldn¡¯t stop now. He grabbed his belt and placed it beneath the scale, positioning it with a strange, hopeful excitement. If the Restore rune worked, it might even consider the belt a part of the scale¡¯s structure, preserving it through a strike. But he doubted he¡¯d be so lucky. Tomorrow, he¡¯d tie the scale to his chest, even if it would barely last against a true assault. Still, it was something, a barrier between him and a world set on his destruction. His excitement faded as he arranged his supplies by the fire, the full weight of the day crashing back over him. He sat heavily, feeling the cold seep into his bones, his chest aching with an exhaustion that wasn¡¯t physical. It had been waiting for him, this heavy wave of grief and guilt, and now it surged, unstoppable. His fists clenched as images flashed in his mind¡ªof Greenhaven, the city walls crumbling beneath black smoke, the crackling fires that had leaped through houses and marketplaces. He thought of Aria, of the middled couple that run the library, of the old baker whose crooked smile had greeted him each morning. They were gone, all of them. He bit back a sob, but it clawed its way up, tearing from his throat in a raw, unsteady gasp. The firelight blurred as he let the tears fall, his shoulders shaking under the weight he¡¯d forced himself to bear all day. Greenhaven had burned. He had wanted it gone, had felt a traitorous flicker of relief as he watched it crumble. And then, as he¡¯d realized what that meant¡ªfor the people who¡¯d shaped his life, for his mother, and for every memory he clung to¡ªthat relief had turned bitter, filling him with a grief so deep it felt like a blade in his chest. ¡°Why?¡± he whispered, his voice cracked and broken. ¡°Why did it have to be like this?¡± But there was no answer in the night, only the distant rustle of the trees and the faint crackling of the fire. He hugged his knees to his chest, feeling as though the forest itself pressed down on him, pushing him into the earth. His father¡¯s face flitted before him, the man¡¯s stern eyes and rough hands, and the anger welled up anew. His father had always believed the world was broken beyond repair, a place where survival was all that mattered. And he¡¯d taught Kael to survive, even if that meant leaving scars on his back and heart alike. Kael had resented him for that, had hated him for the pain and the unforgiving lessons. But his father was gone¡ªthe last piece of family he¡¯d had. And now¡­ now he was alone. The unfairness of it all struck him with a fresh wave of anger, and he choked out a hoarse scream, letting his fury and sorrow pour out into the darkness. It wasn¡¯t just his grief¡ªit was a hatred of the world that took and took, that demanded everything and left him with nothing but memories and scars. His screams faded, replaced by wracking sobs that tore through him, leaving him breathless, empty. When his strength finally left him, Kael collapsed beside the fire, curling into himself, his cheek resting against the cold surface of the scale he¡¯d worked so hard to carve. The runes he¡¯d etched offered no comfort, no promise of protection that could soothe the aching void in his chest. He closed his eyes, feeling the tears seep into the dirt beneath him, and surrendered to the night, letting sleep claim him as his heart lay heavy with grief, his broken whispers filling the silence: ¡°It wasn¡¯t supposed to be this way.¡± Chapter 7: The Weight of Ruin Chapter 7: The Weight of Ruin ¡°How many monsters are we talking about? And how long do we have?¡± The scout, still panting and white-faced, looked at her with a mixture of fear and urgency. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s a sea of them, my lady. Tens of thousands, at minimum. Some have veered off, losing interest, but most are still heading straight for us. We¡¯ll be facing the first wave in half an hour, with the main force arriving less than an hour after that.¡± Damn this wretched mess. Lyanna clenched her jaw, fighting to keep the wave of frustration and panic from shattering her composed mask. The beast tide wasn¡¯t supposed to be here, not for weeks. Yet here it was. A sea of beasts, the largest in years. The cold sweat that broke out on her neck made her shiver. At least there are no Ruin Beasts. A small, bitter mercy. Lyanna¡¯s mind flashed back to her sister¡¯s warning, the memory of Karina¡¯s voice echoing with grim certainty: ¡°The Seers have warned of great bloodshed.¡± She had laughed it off then, dismissing it as just another one of the seers¡¯ cryptic omens. The laugh that almost escaped her throat now tasted sour. I should have listened. Karina had seen this coming, somehow. That was why she¡¯d ordered the troops to stay under cover, to hold their positions for another day. But Lyanna had ignored her, too eager to prove herself the strategist, too eager to seize the moment and bask in the glow of victory. And now we¡¯ll pay the price for my arrogance. Lyanna sucked in a breath, forcing her mind to steady, her thoughts to clear. She couldn¡¯t afford to crumble. Not now. ¡°Why now?¡± she asked aloud, her voice almost drowned by the wind that whipped across the scorched earth. ¡°Beast tides are drawn to bloodshed, but nothing here should have stirred them to this extent.¡± She began to pace, boots grinding against the ashen terrain, her mind racing. ¡°What was different this time?¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t the Skybreaker, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking,¡± Edda replied, her gaze following Lyanna¡¯s restless movements. Lyanna clenched her fists, fury and frustration boiling over. ¡°Then what else could it be, Edda?¡± Her voice cracked through the ash-stained air, sharp enough to stop a few nearby soldiers mid-march, their heads snapping toward her. They exchanged looks, worry in their eyes. ¡°The orcs used the Skybreaker in battle. The essence from that weapon should have¡ª¡± ¡°Skybreakers draw Ruin Beasts, my lady. Not common monsters. The weapon''s blast scatters lesser creatures, drives them off in terror. If the Skybreaker were to blame, we¡¯d be dealing with a dozen Ruin Beasts, not this¡­ horde.¡± Lyanna¡¯s teeth ground together. ¡°Then what?¡± she demanded. ¡°What in the gods¡¯ names could have triggered a beast tide of this scale?¡± Edda hesitated, her brow furrowing in thought. ¡°There are¡­ possibilities,¡± she admitted slowly, her voice dropping lower. ¡°None of them are comforting.¡± ¡°There are only two things I¡¯ve heard of that could explain it, and neither are good¡± Edda said, lowering her voice for Lyanna¡¯s ears alone. ¡°The first is if the orcs have forged an alliance with the trolls and abandoned the gods. And the orcs could have the trolls commanding the beasts. But if that''s the case, we''ve never seen the trolls control this many.¡± Lyanna frowned, her mind conjuring up the image of the massive troll priestess, chanting their guttural prayers to the Fallen One. ¡°It would explain the timing,¡± she said slowly, ¡°if they were using the beast tide as a weapon of last resort.¡± Edda nodded. ¡°Or,¡± she continued, ¡°it could be the kingdom¡¯s fault. Sometimes when our court sends too much food through one of the trade corridors to the other kingdoms, it distorts the balance. The scent of it¡ª¡± ¡°Draws monsters from miles around,¡± Lyanna finished for her, a bitter taste in her mouth. ¡°Yes, but even then¡­ they¡¯ve never been this riled.¡± Lyanna exhaled, a shaky breath that did little to dispel the crushing sense of dread that threatened to suffocate her. ¡°We need to get word to the Queen immediately,¡± she said, her voice regaining some of its former steel. ¡°She needs to know what¡¯s happening here. If the orcs are truly allied with trolls, we¡¯re dealing with something far more dangerous than we anticipated.¡± But Edda shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t, my lady. All of our trusted messengers were dispatched with the dragon eggs we recovered after the last ambush.¡± ¡°Then send any dreg-cursed messenger we¡¯ve got left!¡± she said before catching herself, her face flushing as she realized the venom in her tone and the choice of her words. The nearby soldiers turned away quickly, exchanging furtive glances. Lyanna bit back a curse, forcing her expression back into something resembling dignity. Brilliant work, Lyanna. As if Mother won¡¯t have enough to chastise me for after all of this. Edda dipped her head and moved away to carry out her orders. Lyanna took a breath, steadying herself, and turned back to the scout. ¡°You¡¯re dismissed,¡± Lyanna said, more gently this time. ¡°Report back with updates. Constantly.¡± The scout nodded, her relief palpable, and hurried off. Lyanna was left standing alone, the weight of command pressing down on her like an iron gauntlet. Hiding¡¯s out of the question, she thought, panic clawing at the edges of her resolve as she ordered the army to resume the march. There was no point in letting the soldiers gossip and work themselves into a frenzy.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. While hiding had been a viable tactic when faced with the Skybreaker cannons, now the threat of the cannons was gone, and the Queen¡¯s policy was infamously clear on those who fled a beast tide¡ªher dragon personally burned the soldiers who dared to abandon the line. The reasoning behind it was sound enough¡ªholding the line protected the thousands of helpless families, villages, and towns just behind them. But for Lyanna and her already-battered forces, it felt like a death sentence. Retreat is impossible. She let that bitter truth settle in, a cold stone in the pit of her stomach. Even if they tried, there was no stronghold or fortified ground close enough to offer a chance of withstanding a tide like this. They¡¯d be overtaken long before they found cover. No, their only choice was to make a stand here, and they had nothing but the ruined Skybreaker platform for defense. Her eyes swept the desolate landscape, searching for any advantage, any glimmer of hope. The shattered Skybreaker platform loomed in the distance. No, it¡¯s too small to hold my whole army. Not without the mages constructing defenses. But if the mages exhausted their essence setting up barriers, there¡¯d be no time to recover. With a grimace, she thought of their last recourse: the essence crystals. They could use the supply to refill their essence pools. The cost would be enormous, taking almost all the essence crystals the platform probably held. But it¡¯s that or die. And they should also sacrifice the remaining crystals as offerings to the gods, praying for some shred of divine favor. All this would mean nothing, though, if they didn¡¯t reach the platform in time. Lyanna raised her voice, calling her captains closer. ¡°Double time to the Skybreaker platform! All mages are to be ready on my command. We¡¯ll hold there, as best we can.¡± Edda returned as the army began to march with renewed urgency. ¡°The messenger¡¯s been sent, my lady,¡± she reported. ¡°I spoke with the camp aides about the tide. They raised some troubling points. The orc army we fought was notably weak and likely a diversion. Their main force may strike after the beasts have broken us. They could sweep through the villages and then march on the cities.¡± Lyanna¡¯s mouth tightened. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do about that now. We need to hold this line.¡± She paused. ¡°Does Alric know?¡± ¡°Not as far as I¡¯m aware. But he¡¯s still following us.¡± ¡°Good. We¡¯ll need every sword we can get,¡± Lyanna replied. ¡°Have the camp aides draft a defensive structure for the mages to build around the Skybreaker. And distribute the essence crystals among the mages, with larger shares for the Grandmasters. They both are the most efficient with their essence.¡± Edda¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°We promised¡ª¡± ¡°The troops will understand. And most of them will be dead soon anyway.¡± Edda paused, taking in her commander¡¯s grim determination. For a brief moment, Lyanna thought she saw doubt flicker in her aide¡¯s eyes¡ªonly a fool would not question her plan. Plans like hers were how mutinies started, after all. A part of her hated to waste their remaining crystals on a gamble, but she had no other options. Every instinct screamed at her that this gamble might be their only hope of surviving the tide. And yet, a gnawing doubt remained. Lyanna ran through the possibilities again, grasping for something she might have overlooked. Could it be something else? she wondered, trying to untangle the knot of half-formed theories and fragmented information in her mind. Her mind flitted from theory to theory. The orcs, she thought. If they truly allied with trolls, why choose now to unleash this storm upon us? Trolls commanding a beast tide could explain it, but we¡¯ve had no reports, no sightings of troll shamans anywhere nearby. Trolls, despite their raw power and connection to the wild, were notoriously difficult to keep hidden. Someone would have noticed. And if it wasn¡¯t the trolls¡­? Lyanna considered the second possibility, the one Edda had cautiously suggested¡ªa disruption of the delicate balance of resources. A sudden, massive influx of essence crystals, food, or magical artifacts through the trade routes could easily attract hordes of creatures, drawn in like moths to a flickering flame. The Fallen One, in her twisted wisdom, had ensured that each kingdom remained reliant on the others for survival, yet separated them by the treacherous, monster-infested Burnt Seas, making trade a dangerous but vital undertaking. Each kingdom perpetually struggled to secure essential resources, locked in a cycle of scarcity and desperation. The trolls followed the same strategy, wielding the beast tide as a weapon, just as their goddess had once done. By keeping trade to a minimum, they forced each kingdom to the brink of starvation, some lacking food, others wood, and still others metal. The thought made her stomach twist. Would the court have taken that kind of risk? Would the Queen herself have sanctioned a shipment so vast it endangered one of her own armies? Her lips tightened. No. That didn¡¯t seem right either. The Queen was ruthless, yes, but she was also calculating. She wouldn¡¯t have undermined her forces unless she had no choice. And even if she had, why would the monsters be so frenzied? Lyanna shook her head, frustration mounting. Think. There has to be something else I¡¯m missing. ¡°Lady Lyanna?¡± The voice pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. It was Captain Oran, one of her most reliable officers. He approached with a solemn look, armor coated in ash. ¡°The solider¡¯s are nervous. Rumors are flying about a Beast tide.¡± Lyanna¡¯s fingers dug into her palm. As her mind raced, she weighed her options. Should she lie, offer false reassurance, or tell the truth and risk a complete collapse of morale? Either choice carried immense risks. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s true,¡± she said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her heart. ¡°A beast tide is coming. But we have a plan. We¡¯ll make our stand at the Skybreaker platform. Get the soldiers to increase the pace. Every minute counts.¡± Captain Oran studied her, his expression unreadable. He was no doubt wondering if he should trust the judgment of someone who was a third his age and currently marching them towards a monstrous horde. But he must have come to the same grim conclusion as her¡ªthe platform was their only chance, however slim. Lyanna watched him stride away, shouting orders, rallying soldiers who looked more like ghosts than warriors, their faces haggard and etched with fear. She could see the fatigue in their eyes, the bone-deep weariness that threatened to consume them, but they kept moving. They had to. There was no other choice. She swallowed hard, her throat dry. It won¡¯t be enough, a voice whispered, cold and certain. This horde would swallow them whole, and she had led her army straight into its jaws. Lyanna glanced up at the sky, the roiling ash clouds overhead blocking out the light. What have I done? Her heart ached with the weight of responsibility. She had always known command was heavy, that leadership meant making impossible choices. But this felt different. This felt like ruin. Like the bloodshed the Seers had spoken of. For the second time in her life, Lyanna desperately wished that Karina or Pyrope were here to command the army instead of her. But wishing did nothing. She was here, and the ruin was her burden to bear. The wind carried the scent of ash and dread. And she led her weary, battered army forward, toward whatever fate awaited them. Chapter 8: Ghosts Of Greenhaven Chapter 8: Ghosts Of Greenhaven Kael crouched in the damp undergrowth, eyeing Greenhaven¡¯s charred outline against the gray dawn. Smoke no longer rose from the town, but he could smell it, sharp and acrid on the morning breeze¡ªa thick reminder of everything that had been ripped from him. From his vantage point at the forest''s edge, he could see the main gate still standing, but blackened and hanging crooked on its hinges, framed by the scorched walls. Before he dared enter the streets, Kael mentally ran through his list. He¡¯d need supplies¡ªmore than he could easily carry, but he didn¡¯t have the luxury of choice. Two packs, at least. He¡¯d need a place to store the few belongings he¡¯d salvaged, as well as whatever he could carry back from his house. A pouch, for whatever he can gather on the way¡ªsmall herbs, dry foods, anything storable. Then food, enough for at least a few days if he wanted to stay hidden from whatever creatures still roamed the deeper parts of the forest. Water was another necessity, two canteens if he could find them, along with normal string to restring his crossbow. Bolts, he reminded himself, as many as I can carry. With luck, he¡¯d find some in the guardhouse, but Greenhaven¡¯s defenses had failed so utterly that he wasn¡¯t holding his breath. And, finally, the most difficult items: a proper toolset for rune carving, some armor, and the Codex of Common Runes from the library. If he could find the codex in the ashes, he might stand a chance of increasing his survival odds. But a heavy doubt settled in his gut at the thought of the library¡ªlike every other place, it was probably in ruins. And armor, he thought with a grim smile, if I find any that¡¯ll actually fit. He¡¯d rather not have to loot armor off the dead. Not yet, anyway. Kael shifted his weight, listening. The forest felt tense, as though even the trees sensed what had happened to Greenhaven. Most of the monsters had moved on, their scent trails and deep gouges in the soil leading toward other villages or deeper into the hills. Still, he couldn¡¯t afford to be careless; the ruins might still harbor lingering threats. He rose, creeping closer to the town¡¯s outskirts. The bodies of guards lay scattered along the front gate, twisted and broken. Kael''s stomach twisted at the sight of bodies scattered across the road, armor half-melted and limbs splayed in unnatural angles. The guards who¡¯d once watched over the gates lay strewn like broken toys, their faces frozen in expressions of horror. He forced himself to look away, feeling bile rise in his throat. Some of these men had known him as a child, had laughed at his clumsy sword forms or watched over him with a wary eye when he¡¯d skulked near the training fields. He stopped over one of the corpses, recognizing the insignia. It was Alder, one of the night guards, a man with a quiet smile. Kael felt a familiar pang of guilt claw at his insides. At his feet lay a rusted sword, half-buried under Alder¡¯s stiff hand. Kael bent down, grasping the hilt and pulling it free from the dirt. It was heavier than his own blade had been, its balance unfamiliar, but it would do. He gave it an experimental swing, but the stiffness of his makeshift breastplate made movement awkward. He cursed under his breath, realizing it would be a hindrance in a fight¡ªa lesson he knew he¡¯d pay for sooner or later. He moved carefully past the gate, weaving between the broken remains of the guardhouse and a small, abandoned cart. The houses, lay broken open, doors smashed or torn clean off their hinges. Some of their walls bore claw marks, thick gouges that tore through wood and plaster-like paper. Bodies lay within the rubble¡ªresidents. He forced himself not to look too closely. Recognizing anyone would only slow him down. The people of Greenhaven had long gotten used to fending off monster attacks, and it showed in the way they had died. Most of the bodies Kael encountered clutched swords, crossbows, or clubs or some other weapon. They had fought to protect their loved ones and their town, but it had come at a terrible cost. Every body Kael found was marred by some gruesome injury, a limb torn away or a gaping wound. All he could hope was that they had managed to take one of their monstrous attackers with them. As Kael ventured deeper into the town, his eyes flicked between the darkened alleys and ruined doorways. He¡¯d memorized these paths in a peaceful town, but now every shadow held potential death. He paused, pressing himself against a crumbled wall as he caught the faint scuttling of claws on stone. Kael¡¯s breath caught. The sound grew louder. He risked a glance around the corner. In the middle of the road, half-shrouded in mist, a creature sniffed at the air. It was a grotesque amalgamation of deer and hound, its skin pale and stretched tight over a frame that jutted with unnatural angles. Its movements were halting, erratic, as though it wasn¡¯t fully in control of its limbs. Kael froze, his heart hammering. The thing tilted its head, empty white eyes scanning blindly. Steady. Think. He slowly put his sword back into its scabbard and unslung his crossbow, his hands trembling as he loaded a bolt. He couldn¡¯t risk noise¡ªnot yet. If he missed, it would know exactly where he was. His grip tightened as he tracked its movements, his mind racing through possibilities. Distract it, avoid it, don¡¯t fight unless you have to. The creature let out a low howl that raked across his nerves. Another howl echoed in reply, distant but closing in. Kael¡¯s mouth went dry. He slung the crossbow back over his shoulder, retreating slowly, keeping his steps light. His foot snagged on a loose stone, the noise sharp and unmistakable. The creature froze. Its head snapped in his direction, nostrils flaring. Kael didn¡¯t wait. He darted into the nearest house, diving behind a splintered cabinet as the creature¡¯s heavy steps followed. Its snorts filled the air, wet and guttural, as it pushed its body through the doorway, scraping against the frame. Kael held his breath, gripping his sword so tightly his knuckles ached. He could hear the creature¡¯s claws clicking against the floorboards, the faint rasp of its breath. Too close. The thought screamed in his head. If it finds me, I¡¯m dead. The creature lingered, sniffing, before a distant howl drew its attention. It hesitated, then turned, its heavy footsteps fading into the street. Kael stayed where he was, his heart pounding in his chest. Only when the silence stretched did he risk moving. They¡¯re still here. The thought settled like a stone in his gut. He wasn¡¯t alone in Greenhaven¡ªnot by a long shot. He made his way to the first house on his mental list¡ªa small, modest home he vaguely remembered belonged to an old weaver. The door had been torn off, lying splintered against the wall. He stepped over it cautiously, his gaze sweeping the interior. Inside, the destruction was even worse: chairs overturned, a table smashed to pieces, and cloth strewn everywhere. He moved quickly, grabbing a roll of string from the corner and a small, empty pouch from a broken shelf. Water, food. The basics. He moved from room to room, collecting what he could carry, avoiding the sight of the body crumpled near the doorway. Once he was sure he¡¯d gathered enough, he slipped back into the street, hugging the walls as he made his way toward the center of town. Kael continued through the town, entering house after house with quiet efficiency, gathering supplies from any place still intact. In one house, he found a spool of coarse string that might work for his crossbow if he could reinforce it, along with a few other odds and ends¡ªa length of rope, a small chisel, a hammer. Each time he crouched to retrieve something, his makeshift armor dug into his ribs. He knew he¡¯d need to modify it somehow. In the heat of battle, it could mean the difference between life and death. The growls returned later as Kael approached the center of town. This time, they came from two beasts, prowling just beyond a fallen cart. Kael crept along a side street, his mind racing. The urge to run gnawed at him, but he knew better. Speed meant noise, and noise meant death. He forced himself to move slowly, each step calculated. He slowly but steadily worked his way towards his old house. There, he hoped to retrieve his tools, and from there, to the library, where the codex might still lie hidden among the ruins. As he approached, his eyes scanned the street, his heart heavy as he recognized more bodies. A sudden movement caught his eye. Just down the street, a beast stalked through the rubble, its massive back towering over the crumbling buildings it stood next to. It had the lean body of a panther, but its back bristled with quills, and its head was elongated like a serpent¡¯s, with fangs that gleamed even in the dim light. Kael backed away slowly, his steps silent as he pressed himself against the nearest wall. He couldn¡¯t risk an encounter, not with the gear he had now. But as he rounded the corner, his foot snagged on a loose stone, sending it clattering down the alleyway. The beast¡¯s head whipped around, its yellow eyes narrowing in his direction.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. It charged. Kael¡¯s body moved on instinct. He ran, legs burning as he ducked into another alleyway. The panther-thing skidded on the stone, its claws sparking as it pivoted to follow. Kael cursed as he rounded a corner, fumbling to reload the crossbow. Too slow. The beast¡¯s growl was right behind him, a vibrating rumble that thrummed in his chest. Ahead, the alley narrowed. He dove into a crumbling building, the beast crashing into the wall behind him with a bone-shaking impact. Claws raked through the doorway, a quill slicing across his arm. Pain lanced through him, hot and immediate, but he kept moving, scrambling further into the ruins. He spotted a cluster of fallen pillars, their massive stone columns cracked and broken, and made a beeline for them. Kael squeezed beneath the rubble, his heart racing as he wedged himself into the narrow space. The beast snarled, its long limbs scraping at the edges of the doorway. It padded closer, its eyes fixed on the pillars that barred its way. Kael held his breath, his body trembling with fear. The creature''s claws swiped at the stone, but it was too large to fit through the gap. Undeterred, the beast began to circle the pillars, searching for a weak point. Kael watched in horror as the creature''s eyes locked onto the pillar that pinned him in place. It crouched low, its muscles tensing, and then it sprang forward. The pillar shuddered beneath the impact, the stone creaking ominously. Kael''s heart skipped a beat as the creature struck again, its claws raking across the surface. The pillar groaned, and for a moment, Kael thought it would break. But it held against the beast¡¯s relentless attack. When the beast finally stopped, the silence created was oppressive. Kael held his breath, waiting for the attacks to start again. But instead of attacking, the beast let out a frustrated growl and slunk away, its heavy footsteps fading into the distance. Kael let out a shuddering breath, his whole body trembling. Blood seeped through his fingers, but he forced himself to focus, tearing a strip from his cloak to bind the wound. His chest heaved with each breath, the reality of his fragility slamming into him. I¡¯m not ready for this. I¡¯ll die if I keep this up. But he didn¡¯t have a choice. He was so close now. His father¡¯s tools. The library. The Codex. Everything he needed was here, and he¡¯d come too far to leave empty-handed. ¡°I can¡¯t stop,¡± he whispered to himself, the words barely audible. ¡°Not now.¡± The weight of his determination propelled him forward, his feet kicking up dust and ash. As he turned the corner, his house came into view, still standing but barely. The walls charred and windows shattered. Inside, the once-familiar rooms were a mess, furniture overturned, shards of glass littering the floor. His heart sank as he called out, ¡°Father?¡± but there was only silence. He moved cautiously, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of his father. His heart racing, he pushed open the door to his father¡¯s old workroom, and his worst fears were confirmed. His father¡¯s body lay slumped over the workbench, a sword still clutched in his hand. Kael¡¯s eyes welled up with tears as he took in the sight of his father''s lifeless body. He felt a wave of grief wash over him, but he forced himself to take a step closer. As he approached his father''s body, he saw that he had died fighting, a look of determination etched on his face. Kael''s thoughts drifted to the past, remembering how his father had struggled with his crippled leg, a constant reminder of the monster attack that had crushed the bones in his right leg early in his life. His mother, a skilled duelist, had tried to teach his father the forms that could have saved his life, but no matter how hard she tried, his father''s disability had made it impossible for him to master them. For a moment, Kael allowed himself to wonder if things could have been different. Maybe if his father¡¯s leg had still functioned, he could have survived the attack. But the thought was fleeting, and Kael quickly dismissed it. The reality was that their home had been overrun by beasts, and no one could have survived for long. The place would have been crawling with monsters, and even the most skilled fighter would have eventually fallen. As Kael gazed at his father¡¯s lifeless body, a pang of regret washed over him. He had often hated his father, resented the harsh training and brutal lessons he had forced upon him. His father''s methods had been extreme, pushing Kael to his limits, testing his endurance and willpower. Kael¡¯s eyes filled with tears as he thought about all the times he had rebelled against his father, all the times he had hated him for pushing him so hard. But now, he saw that it had all been worth it. His father¡¯s training had given him the skills he needed to survive, to fight back against the monsters that had taken everything from him. Left him alone in this world. Kael knelt beside his father, gently prying the sword from his hand, and then began to sort through the tool chest, finding what he needed: a finer chisel, a larger blade for etching runes, and a few other items. Tears streamed down his face as he worked, but he knew he had to keep moving, for his father''s sake as much as his own. He would honor his father''s memory by surviving, by using the skills he had taught him to make a difference in a world that desperately needed it. As he turned to leave, he spotted something familiar¡ªa small, battered sketch of Aria¡¯s parents, pinned to the wall among his notes. It was a crude drawing, hastily done, but he¡¯d sketched it one night after they¡¯d let him train with Aria in the garden. He reached up and tugged it free, sliding it into his pocket. A rustling sound from the hallway snapped him back to the present, and he gripped the hilt of his sword, heart pounding. In the dim light, he saw a shadow moving toward him, slow and unsteady. He braced himself, ready to fight¡ªuntil he realized it was a man, limping, his face pale and gaunt. Recognition struck like a hammer. It was Jaron, the baker from down the street. ¡°Kael¡­¡± Jaron¡¯s voice was hoarse, his eyes glassy as he clutched his side, where blood had soaked through his shirt. ¡°They took¡­ my wife¡­ my son¡­¡± Kael swallowed hard, unable to look away from the man¡¯s haunted gaze. ¡°Jaron,¡± he whispered, the name tasting bitter on his tongue. There was nothing he could do for him, no way to ease the pain that gnawed at him. Kael nodded once, a silent promise he wasn¡¯t sure he could keep. But as Jaron collapsed against the wall, the life draining from his eyes, Kael forced himself to move. He left the man behind, like so many others in this broken town, and stepped back out into the desolation. The final stop was the library. The air here felt heavy, still thick with the memory of smoke and flame. The door was splintered, and inside, the familiar scent of leather-bound books and old wood was overpowered by the acrid bite of burnt paper. Shelves lay toppled, and the few remaining books were scattered on the floor, many too charred to be of any use. He moved through the debris carefully, his eyes scanning the shelves. And then, by some miracle, he found it¡ªthe codex, wedged between two fallen beams, its leather cover scorched but intact. He reached out and pulled it free, his fingers brushing the cracked spine. This book contained every basic rune he¡¯d studied, every hint of magic that might help him survive this world. As he turned to leave, a faint shuffling sound made him freeze. He turned slowly, spotting a creature lurking at the far end of the library. It was tall, gaunt, with too-long arms and a face split by a jagged mouth that dripped black ichor. Kael gripped his sword, backing away, his mind racing. Deflect and dodge, he told himself. Aria¡¯s parents had drilled it into him relentlessly¡ªblocking a stronger foe would shatter every bone in his arm. The creature lunged, and Kael sidestepped, swinging the sword in a wide arc. The blade glanced off the creature¡¯s arm, but it was enough to send it stumbling. It turned, snarling, and lunged again, one clawed hand reaching for him. Kael ducked, feeling the claws graze his breastplate but holding firm. Kael¡¯s breath quickened as he squared his stance, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade. The creature¡¯s jagged mouth twisted into a grotesque grin, black ichor dribbling down its chin as it slunk closer. The codex weighed heavily under his arm, but he couldn¡¯t let it go. Not now, not ever, he thought. He adjusted his grip, keeping his eyes locked on the creature¡¯s glistening black orbs, empty and void of anything human. The creature lunged again, faster this time. Kael barely managed to twist out of the way, the air slicing past his face as razor-sharp claws missed him by inches. He retaliated with a downward slash, his blade singing through the air. It connected with the creature¡¯s side, carving through its sinewy flesh. A spray of ichor hissed as it struck the floor, burning like acid, and the creature let out a guttural screech that rattled the bookshelves still standing. Kael stumbled back, gritting his teeth as the creature lashed out with one of its elongated arms. The blow caught him across the shoulder, spinning him around and sending him sprawling into a pile of debris. Books and shattered beams collapsed around him, and for a moment, his vision blurred. He shook his head, his hand brushing against the codex to reassure himself it was still there. The creature didn¡¯t wait. It leapt toward him, its mouth splitting wider to reveal rows of jagged teeth glistening with blackened slime. Kael barely raised his sword in time, the blade pressing against the creature¡¯s jaws as it snapped and snarled mere inches from his face. Its breath was foul, a noxious stench that made his stomach churn. With a grunt, he shoved the creature back, its claws leaving deep gouges in his makeshift breastplate. The leather straps holding it together gave way entirely, and the armor fell to the floor with a dull thud. Kael barely had time to breathe before the creature was on him again, its clawed hand swiping at his legs. This time, Kael was ready. He jumped, the tips of the claws slicing through his trousers but missing flesh. Landing lightly, he whirled, using the momentum to swing his sword in a wide arc. The blade bit deep into the creature¡¯s upper arm, severing it at the elbow. The appendage fell to the ground with a sickening squelch, twitching as ichor pooled around it. The creature howled in fury, staggering back. Its body writhed unnaturally, and the ichor pouring from its wounds began to bubble and hiss, as if the beast were burning from within. Kael didn¡¯t let up. He charged, his sword raised high, but the creature lashed out with its remaining arm, catching him across the chest. The force sent him crashing into the wall, knocking the wind from his lungs. Dazed, Kael struggled to his feet, his sword still in hand. The creature was slower now, its movements jerky and uncoordinated, but its glowing eyes burned with a primal fury. It lunged again, its jagged teeth snapping at his neck. Kael ducked, his sword flashing upward in a desperate strike. The blade found its mark, sinking deep into the creature¡¯s throat. The creature froze, its claws twitching inches from his face. Kael pushed harder, driving the blade through sinew and bone until it emerged from the other side. The ichor that poured from the wound burned like acid as it splattered his hands, but Kael didn¡¯t relent. With a final cry, he twisted the blade, and the creature let out a gurgling screech before collapsing in a heap at his feet. Breathless, Kael took a step back, clutching his bloodied sword. The codex was still safe, tucked under his arm. He exhaled slowly, looking around at the destroyed library, and whispered a silent vow to keep moving, to survive. This town, his home, was gone. But he wasn¡¯t. Not yet. Chapter 9: The Ladened Caravan Of War Chapter 9: The Ladened Caravan Of War General Thorgar Ironhide stood at the helm of the war platform, his battle-hardened frame unwavering as he surveyed the endless ash dunes of the Burnt Sea. The rumble of the platform¡¯s engine reverberated through his bones, a familiar sensation that brought him comfort. Ash drifted in choking clouds across the horizon, piling high into mountains of dust that shifted with the wind. Beneath the thick grey haze, his convoy lumbered forward¡ªa vast swarm of war platforms, each heaving with the mass of the orcs perched atop it and the weight of their world¡¯s future. The air reeked of metal, sweat, and blood, and Thorgar welcomed it. This was his domain, where the strong survived and the weak perished. His kin, the orcs, were warriors, bred for battle and forged in the fire of conflict. They were the instruments of war, and Thorgar was their master. Behind him trailed a hundred such platforms, each carrying a precious cargo of seeds. Each package, just a couple of barrels, held the key to their survival - their worth measured in the blood of hundreds of thousands of lives lost and the tears of countless lives yet to be saved. On the horizon, Thorgar could see the dark figures of monsters cresting the ash dunes¡ªslithering horrors, clawed abominations, and things that seemed scarcely possible, with limbs twisted and eyes that glowed with malevolent hunger. Boney spiders the size of war horses scuttled forward on brittle legs, and packs of fanged hounds, flesh hanging in strips from their faces, charged with guttural howls. He sneered. Each wave of beasts brought new shapes and horrors, the forces of nature clawing for his convoy, desperate to rip the seeds from their hands. The orc shamans stationed atop the platforms raised their staffs and arms, channeling their magic to slow the onslaught, walls of packed ash surging upward and holding for only moments before the creatures smashed through. And from above, the dragon riders and wyvern riders plummeted in swooping strikes, flame and talon tearing through beast flesh in deadly arcs. The creatures fell in heaps, bodies tumbling back into the ash, but still more came, a rising tide of claws and fangs. And so from each of those platforms, waves of orcs leapt from the caravan decks, their descents slowed by shamanic spells as they hurtled down to meet the clawed, scaled, and fanged monsters clawing up from the earth. Thorgar watched them fall¡ªwarriors plunging into the fray like drops of rain into a stormy sea. He admired the courage of his kin, though he took no comfort in the staggering loss they¡¯d endured. They were warriors, yes, but expendable all the same. And in Thorgar''s eyes, only the strong were meant to survive this trial. In the distance, a particularly ferocious beast¡ªa twisted amalgamation of scales and eyes, its limbs writhing with barbed tentacles¡ªburst through the ashen wall, trampling an orc with sickening ease. A wyvern rider swooped in, loosing a torrent of flame that sent the creature stumbling back, thrashing in flames as it screeched. Beside him, his assistant, Ghorna, a grizzled warrior with eyes like chipped flint, cleared her throat. ¡°General,¡± she said in her familiar rasp. ¡°We¡¯re halfway to the elven line, but we¡¯ve lost more than three-quarters of the force. Barely fifteen thousand still fight.¡± Thorgar grunted, folding his massive arms across his chest. ¡°Then Kaelos has favored us with a culling. Those who remain are the best. We will hold. We must.¡± He squinted at the horizon, where clouds churned in ominous shades, masking their destination. Ghorna nodded, but her eyes flickered with uncertainty. She was unshakeable, or as close to it as anyone dared to be in his presence, but even she couldn¡¯t hide the shadow of doubt. Thorgar noticed but said nothing; no words would change what waited ahead. ¡°How is the steam engine holding?¡± he asked. Ghorna turned to a young orc hunched over the communication runes, his left arm scarred and blackened from some past miscalculation with essence crystals. She muttered something in his ear, and he immediately set to tapping the runes, fingers dancing with practiced haste. Moments passed as they waited, the silence broken only by the rumble of the platform and the distant screams of orcs and beasts. Then the runes flashed, dimming and glowing with no discernible rhythm, and after a long moment, they stilled. ¡°Engineers report the new alloy is holding,¡± he relayed, relief slipping into his otherwise rigid tone. ¡°Efficiency is better than we thought. We still have a surplus of essence crystals.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Thorgar¡¯s lips twisted into a grim smile. Perhaps the engineers have earned their keep after all. ¡°Good. Send word to all caravans. Double speed until the engines overheat. Let every wheel scream.¡± The young orc nodded, tapping at the runes once more. Thorgar felt the platform lurch beneath him as the caravan quickened, gears grinding in protest but holding firm. The heat rose in waves from the deck, and he took a deep breath, relishing the burn in his lungs. Blood and iron¡ªthe scents of home, the scents of war. His mind cleared, his muscles tensed, and he could feel his bloodlust rise, creeping into his chest like an old companion. ¡°Fetch me a crossbow,¡± he barked, wanting a weapon he could wield from the platform to thin the horde below. He¡¯d rarely needed weapons beyond his own fists, but today¡­ His order died on his lips. Ahead of them loomed something that defied explanation¡ªa monstrous form so vast it blotted out the dull sun above. It crawled, vast and slow, from an unseen crevice in the land, rising taller than any platform, a twisted mass of writhing limbs and bulbous eyes. The creature seemed not of flesh or bone but of some sickly amalgam of stone, its limbs pulsing with unholy energy. It was a Ruin Beast, a legend among monsters, a being summoned only in the darkest tales of terror, and now it lay directly in the path of the convoy. For a moment, a flicker of awe stirred in Thorgar¡¯s chest. The thing was a nightmare given form, its many eyes rolling lazily over the platforms, as if already savoring the blood it would spill. Its limbs, like spindled trees of molten rock, dug into the ashen ground, splitting the earth with each movement. But awe turned quickly to rage. It dared to stand in his way. My way, he thought, his fists tightening as he watched the creature. ¡°Belay the crossbow,¡± he growled. He straightened, his gaze fixed on the abomination, its massive maw yawning wide enough to swallow an orc whole, revealing row upon row of serrated teeth that dripped a vile, steaming ichor. Thorgar¡¯s pulse quickened, excitement and fury flooding him in equal measure. ¡°Shamans!¡± he bellowed, his voice echoing across the platform. ¡°Prepare your spells! I¡¯m going in!¡± He turned to Ghorna, his eyes alight with an energy only bloodshed could bring. ¡°Alert the dragon riders and wyvern riders. They¡¯re to follow me.¡± ¡°Sir?¡± Ghorna hesitated, and for a brief second, her composure cracked. The Ruin Beast was no ordinary foe; it was the kind of creature that made legends, or crushed them. ¡°You¡¯ll take command here,¡± Thorgar said, voice steady and final. "The caravan is yours. I expect it to hold, or I¡¯ll hold you accountable.¡± Ghorna dipped her head in solemn acknowledgment, and as he turned away, he knew she¡¯d understood. There was no return from an order like this one. He¡¯d either bring that ruinous beast low or be added to its twisted collection of prey. He strode to the edge of the platform, the heat from the engine coiling around him like a shroud. He could feel the shamanic energies building beneath him, air bending to their will in preparation for his leap. He took one last look at the beast, at the whirling mass of flesh and stone, the ruinous form that seemed almost to revel in its own monstrosity. A thin smile pulled at his lips. Let them break against me. If they seek war, I shall answer with iron and blood. With a roar, Thorgar leapt from the platform, and the shamans¡¯ power surged around him, hurling him through the air, propelling him like a javelin toward the Ruin Beast. Wind roared in his ears as he descended. He let his mind enter him, enter the communal essence pool shared by most orcs. Allowed it to draw the essence into his body, reinforcing every bone, every muscle, every thought. He let the essence collect in his fist, even as the ground raced up to meet him. The ground was a mere dozen feet away when he felt shamans¡¯ magic take hold. Propelling him forward, faster, faster, toward the Ruin Beast. Behind him, the dragon riders soared, wingbeats filling the air as they swept after him, weaving through the smoke and flames, their talons glinting in the hazy light. The Ruin Beast turned its baleful gaze upon him as he closed the distance. It loosed a screech that reverberated across the battlefield, shaking the earth itself. Thorgar gritted his teeth and bared his fists, muscles taut, his whole body coiled in anticipation. ¡°Come then,¡± he growled, the words torn from him in a snarl. He hit the beast with the force of a meteor, his fist a hammer against the writhing, stony mass. The essence detonated, a shockwave of pure force radiating outwards, spiderwebbing cracks across the monster''s hide. The impact sent the behemoth hurtling through the ashen landscape, plowing through dunes and skipping across fissures in the ashen earth, a trail of pulverized ash marking its path. Thorgar felt the bones in his hand splinter and shatter, but he felt no pain. For General Thorgar Ironhide was the Right Hand of High Chief Garrok, the Shield of Kaelos. Pain was a triviality. No beast, no human, no force of nature would stand in his way. Chapter 10: The Unyielding Chapter 10: The Unyielding Thorgar Ironhide stood alone in the ash, surrounded by the twisted remains of creatures that dared to challenge his convoy, his warriors, his legacy. The Ruin Beast towered before him, its sprawling, many-eyed gaze settling hungrily on him. With every breath, he inhaled the acrid stench of the Burnt Sea, the taste of blood and soot coating his mouth. Ash sifted through the air, settling in thick clouds around them both as if marking the grim end that awaited. He heard nothing but the sound of his heart, the relentless thudding like war drums in his chest. His muscles ached, his flesh stinging under broken armor. But pain was a distant memory. This was his purpose. The Ruin Beast shifted, its limbs splitting the earth with each movement. Every step it took left a sickly glow in its wake, pulsing with twisted magic as if the land itself had begun to rot beneath its weight. The creature lurched forward, jaws gaping, rows of jagged teeth slick with the ichor of its last meal. Thorgar¡¯s lips curled into a grin as he drew on the essence buried deep within him, the iron strength hard-won through years of unrelenting ritual. He felt it surge, a molten fire filling his veins. I will not die today, he thought, not until I carve my mark on this beast. He moved, his body a blur as he closed the distance in a heartbeat, his footsteps kicking up waves of ash. His fist struck the creature with all the force of his fury, cracking through its dense, stone-like hide. The beast staggered, a ripple of energy passing through its monstrous frame. Without waiting, he struck again, his blows relentless, each punch carrying the force of iron, every movement calculated to crush. The Ruin Beast screamed, a hideous, earsplitting sound that vibrated through his bones, rattling him to his core. It flailed, its twisted limbs reaching for him, but Thorgar slipped between them, dodging with a warrior¡¯s practiced grace. His fists sank into its flesh, sending tremors of pain rippling through the monster. Chunks of its stony hide broke away under his blows, leaving patches of raw, exposed tissue that oozed thick, tar-like blood. Above, dragon riders and wyvern riders circled. They called out to him, voices carrying down through the ash-laden air. ¡°General! Pull back!¡± one rider yelled, desperation tightening his voice. ¡°We¡¯ll burn it down, but not with you so close!¡± Another rider swept in close, a wyvern¡¯s talons flashing as it struck the Ruin Beast¡¯s side, the beast snarling in response. ¡°Fall back, General! We need room to use our magic!¡± Thorgar ignored them, his focus narrowing to the monstrous form before him. The riders¡¯ cries were lost to him, mere sounds drowned out by the roar of blood and fury in his ears. He hadn¡¯t been reforged through agony to retreat now. Seventeen essence rituals had turned his flesh to iron, had burned away every weakness from his bones. To turn his back on this creature would be to mock his every sacrifice. No, he thought, I¡¯ll stand, even if my bones are shattered to dust. He launched himself at the beast again, his fists a whirlwind of fury, each strike shattering pieces of the Ruin Beast¡¯s hide. But the essence was waning, the burn fading from his limbs, his power slipping with every blow. The shamans¡¯ magic, the surge that had driven him forward like a battering ram, had run dry. His fists sank into the creature¡¯s hide with less force, his bones aching as they struck against unyielding stone. His strikes, once shattering, now barely broke the skin. The Ruin Beast saw his slowing movements and lunged, a twisted claw lashing out and catching him across the side. Pain exploded through his ribs as the force sent him tumbling through the ash, the world spinning. He felt his bones splinter, sharp agony cutting through him, but he forced himself up, staggering to his feet. Blood trickled down his side, soaking into the ash, but he grinned, defiant. ¡°Come on!¡± he roared, his voice hoarse, each word a promise. ¡°You¡¯ll have to do better than that, beast!¡± Above, the riders shared uncertain glances, their wings beating as they held their distance. They could see him faltering, his body shuddering with every breath. But he ignored their calls to retreat, even as they grew more desperate, his focus solely on the creature before him. This is my fight, he thought, a grim pride flaring in his chest. They¡¯ll see I¡¯m no easy prey. The Ruin Beast loomed above him, its limbs rippling with unnatural energy. A massive, clawed arm arced downward, crashing into his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. His bones cracked under the pressure, his left arm dangling uselessly at his side, flesh torn and bleeding. He gritted his teeth, fighting back a scream as he forced himself up, his broken arm hanging limp, his other hand balled into a fist. ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡± he rasped, every word a struggle. He could feel his heartbeat, wild and erratic, the blood pumping through his veins slower with each labored breath. His vision blurred, the edges of the world fading, but he took a step forward, dragging his body into a final charge.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The riders, seeing his reckless determination, took a desperate course. Their dragons and wyverns dove in low, weaving in and out, claws and talons tearing into the Ruin Beast, distracting it, keeping it off balance as Thorgar staggered forward. Their blades flashed, tearing gashes into the beast¡¯s hide, but they did little to slow it. For every wound they inflicted, the beast retaliated, lashing out with limbs like stone clubs, throwing dragons and wyverns back into the ashen sky. Thorgar pushed through the chaos, his own body betraying him, his legs buckling as he advanced. He could feel the cracks spreading in his bones, each step a splintering agony, but he refused to yield. The taste of iron filled his mouth as he spat blood into the ash, his mind a haze of determination. Another punch, another crack in his fist, bones shattering under the force of his own attack. He ignored the pain, his other hand curling into a bloody, broken fist as he swung again. The impact barely made the creature flinch, his strength all but spent. But still, he struck, and still, he fought, refusing to fall. The Ruin Beast¡¯s many eyes glistened with cruel satisfaction as it watched him flail, its maw opening wider. It raised another limb, towering above him, and brought it down with the force of a hammer, smashing into his shoulder. Bones shattered under the blow, his chest compressing as blood sprayed from his mouth. ¡°General!¡± one rider screamed, the desperation breaking through the din. Thorgar¡¯s legs gave out, his body collapsing into the ash, his breaths shallow, his vision darkening. But he forced himself to his knees, blood streaming from countless wounds, his broken hand curling into a fist. I am Thorgar Ironhide, he thought, clinging to the fading light of his consciousness. I am the Right Hand of High Chief Garrok, the Shield of Kaelos. In that moment, something shifted in the air. The battlefield fell into an unnatural silence, the ashen winds ceasing their mournful howl. Thorgar''s vision blurred, the towering form of the Ruin Beast wavering before him, and then he felt it¡ªa presence, ancient and raw, settling over him like a weight. He felt the pulsing energy flow into him, cool and dark, coiling around his bones like a steel reinforcement. Kaelos, he thought, a shiver of reverence mixing with awe. Kaelos¡ªthe Shattered God, the Unyielding, the very essence of war itself. And in his fractured state, Kaelos rarely granted mercy, rarely offered help. But here, now, the jagged form of Kaelos loomed over him, his scar-riddled body radiating a steady, controlled energy. The scars themselves were dull, as if the god¡¯s usual wild rage had tempered for this fleeting moment. ¡°Your strength falters, my Ironhide,¡± Kaelos said, his voice dark and guttural. ¡°But I will not let you break alone.¡± Thorgar felt the god¡¯s power filling him, seeping into every shattered bone and torn muscle. His pain vanished, replaced by a cold, unyielding strength. The agony that had once wracked his body was gone, his broken limbs feeling whole. Kaelos¡¯ chaotic energy surged within him, lending him the power of the divine¡ªa last, fleeting boon. Let this be my final stand, he thought, his eyes blazing with newfound fire. Let Kaelos himself witness that I am no coward. He threw himself at the Ruin Beast with all the ferocity of a living storm. His fists hammered into its hide, each blow shattering more of its stone-like flesh, sending shards of it flying. He moved faster, struck harder, each hit sending cracks spider-webbing across the beast¡¯s monstrous frame. The creature screamed, its many eyes rolling in pain and confusion as it recoiled from this new force. For the first time, the monster took a step back, its twisted limbs faltering. But even as his blows fell like meteors, he could feel the god¡¯s blessing slipping, like water slipping through his fingers. The cracks in Kaelos¡¯s form began to glow once more, the volatile, searing energy of his madness slowly bleeding through. The god¡¯s power flickered within Thorgar, unstable, like a fire that had reached its peak and was now sputtering. ¡°Kaelos¡­ grant me more,¡± Thorgar growled, refusing to slow his assault. But Kaelos¡¯s voice whispered back, resigned, somber. ¡°My power fades, Ironhide. All things must end¡ªeven gods.¡± Thorgar let out a roar of defiance, a final salute to Kaelos, even as his limbs weakened, his body¡¯s injuries returning with a vengeance. His shattered bones and ruptured muscles failing him as he stumbled forward. The Ruin Beast, sensing the ebbing of Kaelos¡¯ blessing, steadied itself and bore down on him once more. Above him, the dragon riders called out in desperation. ¡°General! Retreat! Let us finish it! You have done your part.¡± But he heard them only as a distant echo, his focus locked solely on the monstrous form before him. The Ruin Beast saw the faltering in his blows, and it advanced, its eyes gleaming with malice. The riders, once again denied the space to unleash their full fury, could only circle, diving down with talons and steel, their blades flashing as they cut into the beast¡¯s sides. But their efforts barely slowed it. The creature¡¯s massive, clawed limb struck him across the chest, and he felt his ribs snap, his breath leaving him in a ragged gasp. But even as he faltered, he felt no pain¡ªonly a numbness, as if Kaelos, in his final gift, had spared him the suffering he¡¯d earned. Thorgar dropped to one knee, his blood soaking the ash beneath him. His eyes remained fixed on the Ruin Beast, his vision blurring but never wavering in his defiance. Above, the dragon and wyvern riders circled, but their efforts felt distant, their shouts dim. They were calling for him, pleading for him to fall back, but he was beyond hearing, beyond retreat. He was Thorgar Ironhide, the Right Hand of High Chief Garrok, the Shield of Kaelos. The Ruin Beast¡¯s maw opened wide, a roiling mass of eyes and teeth descending upon him. His last vision was the shattered god¡¯s jagged, scarred visage watching from the void. He let himself sink into that vision, his final thoughts held no regret¡ªonly pride, only strength. As he fell into the ash, his body broken but his spirit undimmed, the ashen winds began to rise once more, sweeping over him. The Ruin Beast howled in triumph, but as the caravan rolled onward, his kin felt his loss, a cold, unyielding weight. Yet they pressed forward, carrying his memory, his iron-willed spirit blazing within them. The ladened caravan moved on, grinding its way into the wasteland, each wheel groaning with the echo of Thorgar¡¯s defiance, a warrior¡¯s final gift to the god of war. And in that moment, General Thorgar Ironhide passed into legend. Chapter 11: March of the Desperate Chapter 11: March of the Desperate The Mirrorguard army trudged across the final stretch of the Burnt Sea, the shifting sands devouring each heavy footfall. An oppressive silence gripped the column, broken only by the hiss of sand scraping armor and the low, rhythmic clank of weapons jostling on weary backs. Faces were drawn and pale, gaunt shadows lingering beneath eyes, every soldier trapped in a fog of exhaustion and mounting dread. The very air seemed thick with tension, the kind that curled around throats and made breathing a struggle. Lyanna drifted among them, heart pounding a relentless rhythm that pulsed in her ears. She wore her fatigue like a shroud, each step heavier than the last. Her armor, once a source of strength and protection, felt suffocating, its weight like chains pulling her deep into the ash. Ahead, horns blared as, a scout came running, kicking up puffs of ash with every stride. ¡°The first wave,¡± he shouted, voice breaking. ¡°They¡¯re coming. Fast ones. A dozen, maybe more.¡± A ripple of unease swept through the ranks. Lyanna swallowed hard, a chill creeping down her spine. They all knew what that meant. Ash-hounds¡ªskeletal creatures with ember-like eyes set deep in bony skulls¡ªwould race over the dunes, tearing through their lines before the real monsters even arrived. Then there were the wraiths, shadowy forms that melted into the darkness only to reappear somewhere else entirely. Both were just the vanguard, a taste of something far worse trailing close behind. ¡°Spread out!¡± roared a captain, his command slicing through the panic. He unsheathed his sword, the blade catching a pale glint of dying light. ¡°Form a perimeter! We buy time here! Hold the line!¡± The Skybreaker platform was a whirlwind of desperate construction. Eda and the camp aides moved with frantic purpose, essence crystals piled before them like hoarded treasure. Eda struck one with a hammer, the crystal shattering into a spray of jagged shards, each fragment releasing a burst of raw magic that crackled through the air. The camp aides grabbed the shards and distributed them among the mages, trying to match each piece''s affinity as best they could. ¡°Take it,¡± Eda said, thrusting a shard into a young fire mage¡¯ hands. ¡°And don¡¯t waste it. We can¡¯t afford waste.¡± The fire mage took the shard, wide-eyed, and stumbled toward his comrades, clutching the volatile piece as if it might save or doom them. Eda continued issuing commands, her voice cutting through the chaos. ¡°Check your affinities! Misalignment will kill us faster than the monsters will!¡± Lyanna pressed her lips into a thin line. She understood the urgency, but she also saw that small mistakes were slipping through. There was no time for careful, precise matches, not with the approaching threat. ¡°Lady Lyanna.¡± Sir Roafthar, an elderly camp aide with freshly scuffed armor, approached her. ¡°You should rest now, my lady,¡± he said, his voice rough but insistent. ¡°The army will handle the first wave. Please, gather your strength.¡± She almost snapped at him, her fingers twitching for the hilts of Ember and Scarlet. How can I rest while they fight? Her mind seethed, her pride battling exhaustion. But she knew he was right; she was a liability in this state. She needed to recover, or she would fall¡ªand take others down with her. Her frustration tasted bitter, like ash. ¡°Fine,¡± she forced out, each syllable an effort. She stumbled to a wall of solidified ash near the half-constructed Skybreaker frame, her body sinking into a crouch. The cold, unyielding surface pressed into her back as she slid down, defeated. Lyanna pressed the cold hilt of Ember into her forehead. The twin blades felt lifeless in her grip, their once comforting presence a haunting reminder of how desperately she needed to recover. She closed her eyes and began to meditate, forcing her mind inward to the hollow emptiness of her essence pool. She tried to pull essence from the void, but every breath was tainted by exhaustion. Emotions she had spent years controlling seeped into her trance, ghostly echoes she couldn¡¯t banish. Karina¡¯s hand, the brutal snap of her voice, ¡°You¡¯re nothing but a reckless child.¡± The accusation stung, still raw, and her jaw tightened against the pain. Why did it still have power over her? But her mind gave her no reprieve, replaying the thundering noise of the Skybreaker cannon firing, over and over gain. Each blast leaving ripples in her mind When, she finally banished it, it was replaced with Karina and Pyrope, lying dead in dozen different ways. But Lyanna held onto Eda¡¯s words, trying sail the turbulent sea of her thoughts. Karina and Pyrope are stronger than any opponent they could face. They¡¯ll return. Then, mercifully, a distant roar swelled, breaking the cycle of grief and worry. The noise shattered her focus, but also offered escape. She blinked, her meditation faltering, and her pulse thudded thrumming with a bitter sense of failure. The battle was already beginning, and she hadn¡¯t recovered enough. A young woman stood nearby, brown hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, ash streaked across her uniform. She couldn¡¯t have been much older than Lyanna. ¡°Please, Lady Lyanna,¡± she said, her voice strained yet firm, ¡°rest while you can. The first wave is ours to handle. You¡¯ll be needed soon enough.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Lyanna studied her, noting the plain uniform and the lines of exhaustion etched into her features. This was someone who had seen too much, fought too hard. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Lyanna asked. ¡°Elara,¡± she replied. ¡°Apprentice Camp Aide.¡± She hesitated, a flicker of sympathy or pity crossing her face. ¡°Please, meditate. We¡¯ve got this¡­ for now.¡± Lyanna clenched her jaw. The urge to argue, to throw herself into the fray, was a pulsing need. But she knew better. She was spent, running on willpower alone, and her soldiers needed her at her best. Or at least better than this. ¡°Fine,¡± she said finally, nodding. But couldn¡ät return to meditation just yet. Not without knowing that their defenses were being erected, that they had a fighting chance against the impending battle. The thought of regaining her strength only to face an impossible fight was a bleak one, and she needed reassurance that they were doing everything they could to prepare. Around her, the fortress took shape. Earth mages, faces set in grim concentration, lifted dunes with gestures that trembled from strain, forming ramparts and barricades from the sands. Every movement was slow, deliberate, and costly, but the walls grew thicker, more imposing, with every sacrifice of strength. Metal mages toiled alongside them, reforging the Skybreaker¡¯s shattered remnants into lethal weapons¡ªjagged spikes, makeshift ballistae, and catapults. The acrid tang of molten metal mingled with the stink of ash and sweat. The Grandmasters worked together, their combined power summoning storm clouds that swirled in an unnatural fury. Rain fell in blackened sheets, carving a moat around the platform, the water turning the ash dunes into treacherous, clinging mud. It was progress. Maybe not enough, but it was something. Enough to let her meditate in peace, knowing that all that could be done was being done. Lyanna leaned her head back against the wall, forcing herself to close her eyes. Focus on essence. Focus on breath. Breathe in, breathe out. Minutes bled into each other, but her sense of time was elusive. Slowly, she felt the barest whispers of energy returning, essence trickling into the emptiness of her pool. Her awareness dulled, her mind swaying between wakefulness and the darkness of fatigue. As world faded, and she drifted on the edge of sleep, consciousness slipping and blurring. But even there, the battle haunted her. She felt the tremors of magic, heard the clash of swords, smelled the acrid stench of ash and fire. Lyanna awoke with a start, the sounds of the clash now much closer. The walls trembled with the impact of monstrous claws, and she pushed herself to her feet, limbs aching, mind still foggy. Despite herself, Lyanna¡¯s instincts screamed to rush to the walls, to wield her blades and cut down their foes herself. But she stayed put, biting back the urgency. She had to trust her soldiers, trust the preparations, even if it felt like leaving her heart to be torn apart alongside them. Instead, she turned her attention to the fortress¡¯s progress. The defenses were forming well, rising and bracing under the watchful hands of exhausted mages. Earth and ash mages worked tirelessly, their hands sweeping over the sands and stone. They summoned towering walls of hardened ash, walls that rose higher with each breath, though their progress was slow¡ªeach movement requiring all their energy. The ground trembled beneath their feet as they reshaped the dunes into a defensive structure, trenches and ramparts springing up around the Skybreaker platform like jagged teeth. Nearby, metal and wood mages stripped away the wreckage of the platform, reforging it into crude yet sturdy siege weapons. They worked together with grim efficiency, turning twisted metal into spikes and traps, fashioning ballistae and catapults from the bones of their ruined home. The air was thick with the scent of molten metal, and the clang of hammers striking iron was a constant rhythm, punctuated by the occasional curse as a piece of the platform creaked under the strain. Fire mages flanked the rear, summoning roaring fires in braziers, their hands glowing with the intense heat of molten ash. She closed her eyes once more, diving into the hollow center of herself, embracing the agony of meditation. Her mind drifted on currents of ash and shattered memories, fighting the drag of exhaustion. With each shallow breath, she gathered threads of essence, pulling them from the void and into her pool. This will never be enough, her inner voice whispered. But she ignored it, clutching to the resolve still flickering within. No matter how small the flame, she would keep it alive. We will fight. We will not fall. Time unraveled around her, marked only by the rise and fall of distant screams, the unending drumbeat of battle. Lyanna awoke with a start, the sounds of the clash now much closer. The walls trembled with the impact of monstrous claws, and she pushed herself to her feet, limbs aching, mind still foggy. Elara was there again, face grim. ¡°It¡¯s almost done,¡± she said, gesturing to the transformed platform. ¡°The defenses¡­ they¡¯re holding, for now. Young Lord Alric has joined us on the left flank.¡± Lyanna nodded absently, dismissing the young aide, and looked out. The Skybreaker was gone, consumed in the creation of a fortress that felt barely sufficient against the approaching tide. Towers of hardened ash loomed over the moat, and siege weapons stood ready. Nearby, priests chanted desperately, sacrificing essence crystals in frantic pleas for divine intervention. Bolts of divine lightning cracked the sky, striking down the strongest creatures, their questing tips could find. The air thrummed with magic and desperation, a suffocating, pulsing energy. Lyanna climbed the steps to the wall, feeling every bruise and ache, and when she reached the top, the sight stole her breath. A sea of nightmares stretched before them. Ash Stalkers, skeletal forms with limbs of smoldering ash, prowled the dunes. Dune Krakens, multi-limbed and burrowing, sent ripples through the ground as they approached. Gloomwings, shadowy bat-like creatures, circled overhead, their eyes glowing with hunger. Carrion Drakes slithered forward, their breath a noxious fume of decay. And Bloodweavers spun crimson webs between the dunes, their fangs glistening with life-draining venom. The ground quaked beneath their roars, and the air stank of death. Lyanna drew Ember and Scarlet, the twin blades cold and heavy in her hands. She stood on that wall, soldiers flanking her, their faces pale but determined. They were a tiny island of defiance in an ocean of darkness. ¡°Soldiers of Mirrorguard!¡± she shouted, her voice carrying over the cacophony. ¡°Stand your ground! Fight for your kingdom! Fight for your lives!¡± The roars of her soldiers rose against the monstrous symphony, a frail, defiant hope. Lyanna¡¯s heart thudded as the monsters surged forward, and she braced herself for the storm that would decide their fate. Chapter 12: The Return To Ash Chapter 12: The Return To Ash ¡°Soldiers of Mirrorguard!¡± Lyanna shouted, her voice carrying over the cacophony. ¡°Stand your ground! Fight for your kingdom! Fight for your lives!¡± Her words ignited a spark among the ranks, a fragile flame of courage that flickered in the eyes of every weary soldier. The air crackled with the defiant roar of their voices, an anthem of resilience echoing over the monstrous cacophony. Lyanna¡¯s heart pounded in her chest, a war drum beating in time with the pulse of impending chaos. The first wave of the main force struck like a storm. Bigger and heavier Ash-hounds bounded over the dunes, skeletal forms animated by searing embers, eyes burning with predatory hunger. Their bone-clad limbs hit the ash-hardened ground with brutal speed, slamming into the barricades and testing the soldiers¡¯ mettle. Teeth clashed against shields, claws raked at armor, each ash-hound a whirlwind of lethal intent. Lyanna leapt into the fray, Ember and Scarlet flashing in swift arcs; thousands of hours of practice made the motions subconscious. She moved through the chaos, blades cutting through bone and fire, sending up bursts of cinders that seared her skin. An ash-hound lunged, its jaws snapping for her throat, and she twisted aside, Ember slicing through its neck the Mithril blade going its job. The creature crumbled, but another took its place, the heat of its ember-lit body blistering the air around her. Nearby, a soldier screamed, his shield shattered, but before the hound could finish him, a burst of flame engulfed it. A fire mage, her hands glowing with the heat of her spell, pushed the creature back, eyes wild with both terror and determination. ¡°Hold the line!¡± Lyanna shouted again, pushing back the exhaustion that clung to her like chains. She sidestepped another attack, spinning Scarlet in a wide, defensive arc. The blade met bone, and the creature disintegrated, leaving nothing but a scattering of ash. The shadows twisted, and the air suddenly grew cold. Lyanna¡¯s instincts screamed a warning as a wraith materialized behind her, its ethereal form wisping through the gaps in the barricades. The shadow creature¡¯s eyes burned with a darkness that seemed to drain the light around it. It lashed out, tendrils of shadow reaching for her heart. Lyanna ducked, narrowly avoiding the spectral touch that would have drained her life force. She swung Ember upward, the blade slicing through the wraith¡¯s incorporeal form. The wraith recoiled with a hiss, melting into the air only to reappear several feet away, eyes fixed on a new target. Another wraith drifted into view, and Lyanna gritted her teeth.The vanguard was pressing hard, but worse things still lingered beyond the ash dunes. ¡°Light mages!¡± she called out, hoping her voice carried through the chaos. ¡°Illuminate the shadows! Drive them back!¡± Spells flared to life. Light mages raised their hands, and radiant beams sliced through the gloom, forcing the wraiths to retreat with ghostly howls. One wraith caught in the full brunt of a spell dissipated into nothingness, its shriek fading into the storm of noise. Beyond the barricades, a monstrous rumbling sent tremors through the earth. Dune Krakens emerged, titanic and many-limbed, their hulking forms sending waves through the ashen sea. Their limbs, thick and sinewy, slammed into the ground with a force that made the barricades shudder. They carved furrows in the ash, creating pitfalls that swallowed soldiers whole. Lyanna''s breath caught as one of the Krakens bore down on the left flank, where Alric fought. He was there, a blur of golden hair and steel, barking orders and cutting through smaller monsters with fierce efficiency. Yet, the Kraken loomed over him, ready to crush the young lord and his men. Lyanna''s mind raced. She could let the monster kill Aleric and some of his soldiers and remove one of her main rivals in obtaining a dragon egg. No, that¡¯s the kind of thinking that got me into this mess. Ambition is good. But I need to be the one controlling it, not the other way around. Her eyes flicked to Eda, who stood with her aides, distributing shards and shouting instructions, sweat and dirt streaking her face. ¡°Eda!¡± Lyanna¡¯s voice cut through the storm. Eda turned, her eyes wide. Lyanna pointed to the Kraken. ¡°We need to kill it! Now!¡± Eda hesitated only a moment, then nodded, her jaw setting with determination. ¡°Understood!¡± she yelled, grabbing two nearby mages, the strongest she could find. Together, they extended their palms, thin strands of essence flowing from them. Eda shaped hers into a lance, the air solidifying into a vessel for the fire the other mages conjured. Their essence coiled within the lance, the flames intensifying, shifting from pale yellow to searing blue, then streaked with white. But before they could finish, Gloomwings descended from the sky, wings outstretched, and the battlefield darkened under their shadowy canopy. The creatures shrieked, a sound like a thousand nails scraping on steel, and dove into the mages'' ranks. Lyanna cursed under her breath. The Gloomwings were clever, targeting the spellcasters to disrupt their preparations. She couldn¡¯t let them win. ¡°Archers! Take them down!¡± she commanded, her voice hard. Arrows flew, glinting as they pierced the air. Some found their mark, striking the Gloomwings and sending them crashing to the ground, but others were deflected by the creatures'' leathery, shadow-steeped wings. The air buzzed with magic, arrows, and the screams of the wounded, a symphony of survival and despair. Elara appeared at Lyanna¡¯s side, her face pale but determined. ¡°My lady,¡± she said, voice shaking, ¡°I can hold the line here. You¡¯re needed with Eda!¡± Lyanna hesitated, her battle instincts warring with logic. But Elara''s grip on her spear was firm, and her gaze unwavering. Lyanna nodded. ¡°Do not falter.¡± Lyanna sprinted through the chaos, weaving between clashing bodies and bursts of magic. She poured essence into her ash rune, feeling a tingling warmth spread through her limbs as the ash propelled her forward, leaving a faint grey trail in her wake. Ember and Scarlet flashed, carving a path through any creature that dared to cross her. Even as Ember¡¯s essence emptied at a staggering rate. She reached Eda just as a Gloomwing screeched above, its talons outstretched. Lyanna''s blades flashed, severing the creature¡¯s wings and sending it crashing down in a tangle of sinew and ash. Eda spared her a grateful glance, her focus unbroken. ¡°We¡¯re almost there!¡± she said, voice straining under the weight of magic. The fire in the lance glowed blindingly white. ¡°When we release this, the Kraken won¡¯t stand a chance.¡± Lyanna took up a defensive position beside them, blades ready. The light pulsed, and the air felt charged with the sheer magnitude of what they were about to unleash. The Dune Kraken closed in, its massive limbs tearing through barricades. As it reared back to strike, Eda and the mages unleashed the spell. A lance of pure fire shot forth, splitting the air with a crack like thunder. The blast struck the Kraken square in its hide. The monster¡¯s form twisted, its massive eye bulging as if about to burst. A silent shockwave rippled outward, throwing Lyanna off balance. Then, the Kraken erupted into flames, its roar lost in the conflagration. The soldiers let out a cheer, but it was short-lived. More creatures poured over the dunes, an endless tide. The true battle had only begun, and Lyanna knew that every moment from here would be a test of sheer will.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Her body screamed with exhaustion, but her spirit held firm, even though Ember''s essence pool was empty, leaving only hers and Scarlet''s full. Raising her swords once more, Lyanna prepared to face the next onslaught, her heart alight with defiance. The clash of battle surged on, each heartbeat carrying the relentless weight of a struggle that seemed unending. Lyanna¡¯s twin swords, Ember and Scarlet, carved through Ash-hounds and wraiths alike, her breath coming in gasps as she fought side by side with her fellow soldiers. The battlefield was a maelstrom of fire, shadow, and the screams of the wounded, where the will to survive was the only thing keeping them from being swept away. Lyanna spotted Alric fighting through a knot of monstrous Ash-hounds. His golden hair, streaked with soot and blood, glinted under the fractured light of the ash-shrouded sky. His armor bore the marks of claw strikes, but his eyes remained fierce, determined. He made his way to her side, felling an Ash-hound that had leapt for her side with a well-placed strike before looking over at her. "Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d see you here," Alric said, his voice rough with exertion. "Especially not saving my life." Lyanna deflected a clawed limb aimed for her neck and drove Scarlet into the ashen creature¡¯s ribcage. It dissolved into embers, and she turned, breathing heavily, to face Alric. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I save you?¡± she shot back, her eyes narrowing. ¡°My family has never been like the rest of the court. We have always stood for something more.¡± Alric snorted, slashing a monster clean through. ¡°Right. You mean the same family whose matriarch had my mother poisoned, just days before your sister dueled my father for the title of Human Champion?¡± Lyanna''s guard faltered, and a bony talon scraped across her pauldron, drawing a line of red. She cursed, but before she could retaliate, Alric had dispatched the attacker, his sword cleaving it in two. ¡°Careful,¡± he said with a grim smirk. ¡°Even a Mirrorguard can¡¯t afford to get distracted.¡± Lyanna''s hands trembled with rage. ¡°My family would never do such a thing!¡± she spat. ¡°If anyone from the Mirrorguard House had committed murder by poison, it would have been known, investigated. It must have been another house. You think my mother¡ª¡± But even as she spoke, realization dawned, a grim understanding settling into her bones. Alric¡¯s House didn¡¯t hate hers solely because of her sister displacing his father as champion. The root of their animosity was deeper, bound to his mother¡¯s death. Yet how could her family have been in the dark? They were told she had died shortly after the duel, that her husband¡¯s loss had been too much for her aging heart. Her mind raced, grappling with the deception. Which house could have hidden the truth from hers so well? Before she could think more on this, the ground heaved beneath their feet, and a monstrous roar split the air. The earth itself seemed to crack open as the Ruin Beast emerged. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of jagged wood and writhing vines, each vine pulsing with veins of molten red energy. Instead of limbs like a typical creature, the Ruin Beast had immense, segmented appendages that ended in sharp, crystalline blades, capable of tearing through barricades with ease. Spikes of obsidian jutted from its back, and clusters of eyes, each glowing a different color, rolled in search of prey. Dark spores drifted from the beast, carried by an unnatural wind that made any soldier caught in its radius double over, coughing up blood. Lyanna¡¯s mouth went dry. ¡°Alric!¡± she yelled, her voice cracking under the strain. ¡°Join the mages! You need to help them take that thing down¡ªyour affinities are better suited for an assault.¡± Alric hesitated for a heartbeat, his jaw clenching, but then nodded. ¡°Try not to die, Mirrorguard,¡± he said, offering a brief, almost hesitant smile before sprinting toward the mage lines. The Ruin Beast roared again, and its segmented, bladed limbs crashed into the ground, splitting it apart. Smaller, parasitic creatures spilled from the beast¡¯s jagged wounds, insect-like monstrosities made of wood and razor-sharp pincers. They scuttled toward the soldiers, forcing them to divide their attention between the greater threat and the swarming horde. Lyanna gripped Scarlet and Ember tighter, channeling every last drop of her flagging essence into Scarlet''s Healing Rune. "I will be the shield," she breathed, steeling herself. The Ruin Beast¡¯s crystalline gaze fixed on her. A bladed limb lashed out. Lyanna met the attack head-on, Scarlet and Ember a blur of steel. Sparks flew as metal met crystal. The impact shuddered through her, but Scarlet¡¯s magic flowed, knitting her wounds closed even as they formed. Lyanna pressed the attack. She darted forward, Ember leaving a scorching furrow in the beast¡¯s leg. The Ruin Beast roared, a second limb whipping towards her. Lyanna parried with Scarlet, the healing energy strengthening her arm. She spun, Ember singing as it chipped another crystalline limb. But the Ruin Beast was relentless. A third limb slammed into her shoulder, throwing her off balance. Pain flared. Lyanna gritted her teeth, Scarlet¡¯s magic mending the broken bone even as she stumbled back. Her own essence reserves were already running dry. The smaller monsters swarmed, hindering her movements. Lyanna kicked and slashed, carving a bloody path, but they were relentless. The Ruin Beast pressed its advantage. Another blow, this time to her ribs, sent her reeling. Lyanna gasped, Scarlet pulsing with a brighter light as it drew upon its own reserves to heal her rapidly depleting body. The mages unleashed a torrent of spells. Fire, lightning, and raw essence lashed the Ruin Beast. It roared, absorbing the energy, growing more volatile. ¡°More!¡± Lyanna choked out, her voice raw. ¡°Break its core!¡± Seizing a brief opening, she lunged, driving Scarlet deep into a joint in the beast''s armor. The Ruin Beast shrieked. Lyanna followed up with Ember, cleaving the weakened joint. Crystalline fragments rained down. Exhaustion gnawed at her. Her own essence was gone, Scarlet now her only lifeline. Another blow slammed into her back, the force stealing her breath. Scarlet flared, mending broken bones and torn muscles, the drain on its essence palpable. Lyanna staggered, vision blurring. She parried another attack, but the force sent her sprawling. A smaller creature lunged, its pincers tearing at her leg. Lyanna cried out, Scarlet¡¯s light flashing as it healed the wound. She scrambled back, kicking the creature away. The Ruin Beast towered over her. One final, devastating blow struck her chest, sending her flying. She slammed into the jagged rocks, the air knocked from her lungs. Her swords clattered away. Agony consumed her. One of the parasitic creatures sensed her vulnerability and pounced. Lyanna instinctively raised her hand to shield her face. The creature''s jaws clamped down, biting deep into her flesh. She screamed, her vision going white with pain, but her other hand found Scarlet¡¯s hilt. Summoning the last of her strength, she drove the blade upward into the monster¡¯s belly. It writhed, then crumbled into ash, leaving her shaking and bloodied. Lyanna¡¯s breath came in ragged gasps. Pain shooting up her arm as she cradled her mangled hand. Blood dripped into the ash, and with every pulse of her heart, the agony throbbed anew. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and she forced herself to focus. Scarlet was still in her grip, its magic barely humming, a faint and dwindling glow. With trembling resolve, she closed her eyes and focused on what little essence Scarlet had left, pulling it from the depths of Scarlet¡¯s pool. She channeled every last drop into Scarlet''s rune, the sword flaring weakly in response. The warmth spread through her shattered hand, knitting bone and mending skin, the broken fragments of her fingers realigning with excruciating slowness. But as the last vestiges of healing magic washed over her, she knew it wasn¡¯t enough. The glow of Scarlet flickered and died. Lyanna looked down at her hand. Her heart twisted. Three fingers had only partially healed, the tips gone, replaced with jagged stumps. Her grip was weak, and holding Ember felt clumsy, the weight unbalanced in her palm. A weapon she had wielded with skill honed over years now felt foreign, unreliable. Damn it, she thought, bile rising in her throat. She tried to adjust her grip, but the pain and awkwardness made it difficult. Desperation clawed at her chest. The Ruin Beast was still there, its monstrous form bearing down on the spellcasters. Only Eda stood in its way, her face pale and streaked with blood, but her magic burned bright, holding the creature at bay. Yet she was too slow, too tired. A vine-like limb, crackling with essence, lashed out and struck her across the chest, sending her crumpling into the ash. ¡°No!¡± Lyanna screamed, her body moving on instinct. Pain and terror fueled her, overriding the agony. She stumbled toward Eda, her vision narrowing to that single, desperate purpose: to save her sister¡¯s lover, someone she had just started count as her friend. She wouldn¡¯t let this end here¡ªnot like this. But Lyanna had nothing left. No essence, no strength. But she couldn¡¯t give up, not when she was the reason for all this death. She had to reach Eda, had to get between her and the Ruin Beast, even if it meant her own death. The Ruin Beast''s roared, its grotesque, many-limbed form shuddering as it prepared another strike. Lyanna gritted her teeth, trying to wield Ember with her damaged hand, but the blade wavered, unsteady. She glanced down at the sword, her vision blurring with tears of frustration. ¡°Eda!¡± she called out, voice cracking. ¡°Hold on! Just... hold on a little longer!¡± Eda stirred, her eyes fluttering open, but her movements were sluggish. Blood poured from the wound across her chest, and the light of her magic had dimmed. Yet, even so, she tried to rise, refusing to give in. Lyanna grit her teeth, desperation fueling her movements. If this was the end, then she¡¯d make it count. Chapter 13: The Shattered Hour Chapter 13: The Shattered Hour Lyanna cursed herself bitterly as she sprinted forward, her heart pounding with a dreadful rhythm. The ash-choked air burned in her lungs, and pain seared her fractured hand, yet she could only think of one thing. Damn you, Scarlet. Damn me for draining your essence dry. The once brilliant, healing glow of her sword had faded to an impotent, lifeless hue, and she knew it was her own reckless desperation that had bled it dry. Eda lay crumpled in the ash, her chest painted crimson. Lyanna''s eyes scanned frantically for the red strips marking a healer among the remaining mages, but the chaos made it impossible. Her vision blurred with frustration and fear, her pulse racing. There was no time. There has to be a healer left, there has to¡ª Before she could find one, a soft, ethereal glow enveloped Eda. The ruinous wound across her chest began to stitch itself closed, sinew and bone mending with a radiant, golden light. Everyone knew that glow, that touch of divine intervention. Arthor, The Father, had blessed her. A god¡¯s grace was a rare gift, reserved for those who had always put duty first, no matter the cost. Lyanna could only watch, paralyzed by a swell of helpless awe and sorrow. Eda''s eyes flickered open, burning with a newfound determination. The wind around her roared to life, sharper and more potent than ever before. Her hair whipped about her dirt-streaked face, and the air crackled with raw, untamed power. But Lyanna knew the bitter truth: The Father¡¯s blessing was a double-edged sword. When the blessing left Eda¡¯s body, she would be worse off than before¡ªcrushed beneath the weight of divine power she couldn¡¯t possibly contain in her mortal form. And in Eda¡¯s current state, that meant death. A slow, agonizing death. Tears stung Lyanna¡¯s eyes as she gripped Ember with her mangled hand, feeling the sword¡¯s dead weight in her palm. Monsters with twisted forms and glistening fangs emerged from the shadows, beasts she had never seen before. She fought through them, her limbs heavy, her breath ragged, all the while watching Eda¡¯s final stand. This isn¡¯t fair, she thought, a desperate, useless cry echoing in the corners of her mind. She shouldn¡¯t have to die. Eda, blazing with divine might, unleashed a storm of wind and essence. Her magic carved through the Ruin Beast¡¯s crystalline limbs, splintering obsidian spikes and shattering vines. The monster roared in defiance, but Eda¡¯s power was unstoppable. Eda, blazing with divine might, raised her hands, and the wind obeyed her command. It surged forward, tearing into the monstrous horde with relentless force. A gale carved through the Ruin Beast¡¯s crystalline limbs, splintering obsidian spikes and shattering vines. Each strike carried a fury that Lyanna had never seen in her friend before, a desperate, beautiful rage born of love, duty, and a refusal to surrender. Yet the monster did not falter. It reared back, its core pulsing with malevolent crimson light, and slammed one massive limb into the ground, sending jagged shards of crystal shooting toward Eda. She barely had time to react, a wall of wind spiraling up to intercept the deadly spikes. Some of them shattered in midair, but others broke through, slicing into her exposed skin. Blood welled from a gash across her cheek, and she bit back a scream. The pain was excruciating, and the divine light in her eyes flickered. The Ruin Beast roared, twisting its massive, vine-covered body with serpentine grace. Thick tendrils lashed out, one wrapping around Eda¡¯s waist and squeezing tight. The air was crushed from her lungs, and she struggled, her arms pinned to her sides. The divine glow around her body surged, but it was weakening, each burst of power taking more out of her. The Ruin Beast hauled her up, dangling her like a rag doll, and its maw opened wide, dripping with molten darkness. ¡°No!¡± Lyanna screamed, slashing her way toward Eda, but the monsters between them slowed her advance. With a desperate, choked cry, Eda summoned every ounce of strength she had left. The wind around her exploded, tearing the vine apart and sending her tumbling to the ground. She landed hard, her knees buckling, but she forced herself up, her entire body trembling. The divine light dimmed further, but she pressed on, teeth gritted, eyes blazing with defiance. The Ruin Beast hissed, its core pulsing wildly. It lunged forward, sweeping at Eda with a jagged, crystalline arm. She ducked and rolled to the side, barely avoiding the strike, but another vine lashed out, wrapping around her leg and dragging her toward the monster. Eda twisted, a cyclone forming at her fingertips, and unleashed it with a roar. The wind howled, slicing into the vine and freeing her, but she was weakening, each attack draining her lifeforce. The Ruin Beast sensed her faltering strength and pressed the attack. It slammed its crystal-encrusted fists into the ground, sending shockwaves that fractured the earth beneath her feet. Eda stumbled, her balance slipping. A shard of obsidian, razor-sharp and deadly, shot toward her. She threw up a wall of wind, but the shard shattered through, grazing her side and tearing into flesh. Eda fell to one knee, her breath ragged, blood seeping from her wounds. The divine glow was fading, her body breaking under the strain. The Ruin Beast loomed over her, triumphant, its maw opening wide to consume her. But Eda refused to yield. With a final, desperate scream, she summoned the storm one last time. Wind roared around her, a maelstrom of pure, unbridled force, and she directed it at the monster¡¯s core. The Ruin Beast tried to brace itself, but Eda¡¯s power was unstoppable. The wind carved through the obsidian armor, splintering the crystal and shattering the vines that held the monster together. The monster let out a guttural, ear-splitting roar, its core fracturing, splitting apart under the onslaught. The golden light in Eda¡¯s eyes flared one last time, a brilliant, defiant blaze, as she unleashed a final, shattering blow. The Ruin Beast¡¯s core exploded in a storm of black and crimson, shards of corrupted essence scattering like dark stars. The battlefield shuddered, and for a moment, hope flickered in the soldiers¡¯ eyes.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Eda had won. But she had paid the price. Her knees buckled, and the divine glow began to fade. Lyanna dropped her sword and stumbled forward, hands reaching out in a useless, broken gesture. ¡°Eda!¡± she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of grief. Eda¡¯s eyes met hers, a fragile, beautiful smile ghosting across her lips. ¡°We did it,¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible. Then her body crumpled, the light gone. Lyanna fell to her knees beside her, tears slipping down her ash-streaked face, leaving tracks through the grime. A tear fell, hot and bitter, onto Eda¡¯s lifeless cheek. Lyanna¡¯s throat tightened. No. No. What would they think if they saw you like this? she berated herself, wiping her face with a blood-streaked hand. Lyanna Mirrorguard didn¡¯t cry. She hadn¡¯t cried when her best friend died in her arms during the Battle of Red Soil, surrounded by the mangled corpses of trolls. She wouldn¡¯t start now. With a shuddering breath, she forced herself back to her feet, leaving Eda behind. Ember and Scarlet felt heavier than ever, but she raised them anyway, her grief transmuting into a cold, hard determination. The battle wasn¡¯t over. It wouldn¡¯t be over until every last monster was vanquished, or she drew her final breath. Her grief was a knife she buried deep, a wound she could not afford to feel. The monsters kept coming. The battle demanded more of her. Always more. Time became a blur. The ash-choked air was suffocating, and her muscles screamed with every swing of her swords. Her armor was battered and dented, her body a ruin of bruises and cuts that never quite healed because Scarlet''s magic was gone. The soldiers beside her fell, one by one, until there were fewer and fewer. But Alric remained. He fought beside her, the golden-haired lord of House Blackthorn, the man she had thought she would despise until the day she died. But war had forged a bond between them, one neither could deny. They fought back-to-back, cutting through the endless tide of monsters, drawing the enemy''s focus so the few remaining soldiers could hold the line. Blood streamed from a gash on Alric¡¯s forehead, and his armor was splintered, barely holding together. His essence pool had run dry long ago, and his strikes were slower, his breath ragged. Lyanna wasn''t faring any better. Her own body was failing, broken and battered, her hands barely able to grip her swords. The pain was a constant, numbing drumbeat. At last, they were surrounded, a ring of ash and death closing in. There was no retreat, no escape. Lyanna and Alric stood shoulder to shoulder, the final defense. Alric''s hand brushed against hers, and she glanced at him, surprised by the warmth in his eyes. ¡°Looks like this is it,¡± he said, his voice rough but steady. ¡°It''s been an honor, Mirrorguard.¡± Lyanna swallowed, her throat tight. They had known each other for hours, but it felt like a lifetime. In this hellish nightmare, they had become something she couldn¡¯t name. ¡°Likewise, Blackthorn,¡± she said, her voice breaking. She managed a ghost of a smile, bitter and fleeting. ¡°Try not to die before I do. I¡¯d hate to miss the show.¡± Alric laughed, a short, broken sound. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡± They stood together, surrounded by monsters, two warriors who had nothing left to give but their lives. The night deepened, the sky an endless shroud of black, and Lyanna''s heart pounded with a defiance that refused to die. She raised her swords one last time, broken but unyielding. This was their final stand, and she would face it with every scrap of courage she had left. Lyanna staggered, her vision a fogged haze of exhaustion and pain. Her breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, her body all but spent. She barely felt the relentless onslaught of clawed limbs and gnashing teeth around them¡ªonly Alric¡¯s presence grounded her, his shoulder pressing against hers in what felt like an unbreakable promise, though both knew it was a lie. They swung their weapons, moving as one, but their attacks had slowed to a feeble rhythm, each swing weaker than the last. Blood poured from a gash over Alric¡¯s ribs, staining his armor, while Lyanna''s own limbs trembled with the weight of her twin blades, Ember and Scarlet, now utterly bereft of their usual brilliance. Each move felt like dragging her soul through mud. A crimson claw raked across her shoulder, nearly ripping the armor from her body. The impact sent her staggering, and Alric¡¯s hand shot out to steady her, his grip like iron despite the blood that seeped from the wound in his abdomen. They were running on fumes, on the ragged edge of despair and exhaustion. Even her grief had dulled, leaving only the inevitability of what was to come. Lyanna tried to summon some final ember of strength, but there was none left. Her head spun, and her vision wavered. The monstrous horde pressed closer, their gnashing jaws and gleaming fangs promising a death no one could withstand. This is it. The thought came with surprising calm. The battle was lost, and she would die here, like so many before her. Her parents, her sister... she hoped they would be proud. Lyanna¡¯s eyes drifted skyward. The stars were shrouded, invisible behind the thick, acrid clouds. But then a roar shattered the sky, a sound unlike any beast from the shadows of nightmares. It was a bone-deep rumble, fierce and powerful, and the very air vibrated with its presence. Lyanna¡¯s eyes widened just as dragon fire raked across the battlefield, a searing, all-consuming blaze that swept through the ranks of monsters. Flames as bright as molten gold licked the earth, turning the Ruin Beasts to smoldering ash. Lyanna''s heart seemed to stop, disbelief coursing through her veins. The night erupted into chaos as shadows descended from the sky¡ªmagnificent dragons with scales that glittered in hues of ruby, sapphire, and onyx. Their riders, armored warriors wielding lances of fire and thunder, rained down fury upon the enemy, breaking the monsters¡¯ lines and turning what had seemed like an inevitable massacre into a spectacle of hope. Lyanna staggered back, her breath caught somewhere between a sob and a disbelieving laugh. The laughter burst from her lips, wild and unhinged, until she was clutching her stomach and doubling over in mirth. It was absurd. It was impossible. And yet, it was happening. Alric turned to her, confusion etched onto his bloodstained, dirt-caked face. He pressed a hand against the gaping wound in his stomach, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Have you lost your mind, Mirrorguard?¡± he managed, his voice tight with pain. Lyanna wiped tears of laughter from her ash-streaked face, gasping for air. ¡°Gods, maybe I have,¡± she said, her laughter subsiding into ragged chuckles. The sight of Alric¡¯s bewildered expression was enough to pull her back to some semblance of sense. She caught her breath, though her grin lingered, tired and triumphant. ¡°Before the battle,¡± she said, her voice hoarse and weary, ¡°I made¡­ Eda send messengers to the queen. We needed reinforcements. And... I told her to let the queen know about a potential alliance between the orcs and the trolls.¡± She glanced back at the dragons, their riders cutting through the tide of beasts with a ferocity that reignited hope on the ruined field. ¡°I never thought they¡¯d actually come. Not in time. Chapter 14: The Nexus Unveiled Chapter 14: The Nexus Unveiled Queen Lyria Valen II felt the wind bite against her cheeks as Aurora cut through the sky, the dragon¡¯s wings beating with the rhythm of a storm given life. The sun glinted off herdawn-hued scales, throwing radiant shards of light across the Dragonspire Mountains. Lyria¡¯s cloak billowed in the wind, heavy with the scent of mountain air and the soft, unyielding whisper of approaching destiny. From above, the jagged peaks jutted toward the heavens, daring the sky itself to descend and meet them. Each peak held a different tale of survival and defiance, weathered and ancient. But even the smallest of the mountains in this range, to which Aurora now descended, dominated the sky, shadowed only by its taller, prouder siblings. Aurora¡¯s wings folded in as she spiraled downward, cutting through clouds that parted in reverence. The great beast¡¯s talons sank into the rock with a force that sent snow and boulders skittering down the slope, yet her landing was smooth, a testament to centuries of flight. Lyria leaned forward, her fingers brushing against the warmth of Aurora¡¯s scales, and whispered her gratitude. The dragon rumbled, a soft purr reverberating through her bones. Lyria dismounted gracefully, the years of regining alongside her dragon lending her an elegance that masked the harsh weight of a century of ruling. Standing there in her gleaming armor, with her golden hair woven in a coronet, she was not just a queen but a living symbol of Valior¡¯s unbroken spirit. And as her boots crunched into the thin, brittle frost, her piercing blue eyes found a familiar face. Lady Dagna Runeweaver, the Master Runesmith and Dwarven Queen, stood waiting. Her flame-colored hair was bound in complex braids, threaded through with runic charms that glinted in the light. Her stout frame was adorned in elegant smithing leathers, and her bright eyes shone with joy. Lyria barely had time to draw breath before Dagna had thrown herself forward. The two queens embraced, their laughter mingling with the mountain winds. Dagna smelled of molten metal and aged parchment, a scent so familiar to Lyria it brought a pang of nostalgia. A bond had grown between them through a century of shared triumphs and sorrows¡ªa sisterhood forged in the crucible of ruling two mighty realms side by side. Dagna leaned back, squinting up at Aurora. The dragon lowered her mighty head, eyes glinting like twin suns. The dwarven queen stretched onto her tiptoes, reaching up in an attempt to scratch Aurora¡¯s snout. She failed, her fingers just brushing air. ¡°By the molten heart of the earth,¡± Dagna muttered, scowling in mock irritation. ¡°It¡¯s unfair that a dragon four centuries old should have grown so much in just half a decade. You¡¯re too enormous, Aurora! You¡¯ll make me feel even smaller.¡± Aurora¡¯s deep, rumbling chuckle reverberated through the air. She exchanged a smile with her dragon, affection blooming between them as Aurora¡¯s rich voice filled the air, ¡°A dwarf and a dragon of equal size? Imagine that chaos.¡° Finding herself grinning, Lyanna found the heavy mantle of rulership slipping for a brief, treasured moment. ¡°So, tell me, what has driven you to summon me here, halfway up a mountain, away from the chaos of my court? I assume this has everything to do with your ¡®Kairos Initiative¡¯?¡± She raised an eyebrow, her tone playful but her heart already racing. Dagna had been consumed by the project, whispering of miracles in runecraft and the marriage of magic and mechanics. Dagna¡¯s grin widened, her eyes sparkling. ¡°Oh, you know me too well. We¡¯ve finally succeeded, Lyria.¡± Her voice lowered with awe. ¡°All those decades, all the sweat and knowledge poured into this¡­ the culmination of centuries of innovation. But I won¡¯t waste your time with just talk.¡± She inclined her head apologetically to Aurora. ¡°Forgive me, mighty one, but the halls of Oculus are far too small for a dragon as massive as you. You¡¯ll have to watch through your bond¡± Aurora¡¯s presence pressed gently into the back of Lyria¡¯s mind, a familiar, comforting warmth that settled her thoughts. ¡°I¡¯ll be with you, Lyria,¡± her voice whispered, soothing as wind. Loud enough for only Lyria to hear. ¡°Go and see what our brilliant smiths and mages have wrought.¡± With a final pat on Aurora¡¯s snout, Lyria followed Dagna through the stone archway that marked the entrance into the mountain. The doorway was hewn from rock, intricately carved with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with captured essence. Human and dwarven guards flanked the passage, their armor gleaming, their weapons at the ready. Each saluted the queens, their movements disciplined and proud. Lyria walked through the halls with practiced grace, yet curiosity burned within her, eager and impatient. Doorways lined the walls, leading to homes and chambers carved into the living rock. The mountain itself had become a city, a hive of mages, scholars, and warriors united under the banner of the Kairos Initiative.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. She turned to Dagna, her voice curious. ¡°What design did you finally settle on, then? Last I heard, your runesmiths were at war with the knowledge mages over every single detail.¡± Dagna¡¯s grin returned, full of impish delight. ¡°We designed essence containers that can channel four distinct essence types.¡± she said, her hands gestured excitedly, as if she could conjure diagrams from the air. ¡°Two types to form the ¡®counting essence,¡¯ their ratio determining the numbers inside. And the opposite two can be channeled in to obliterate one of the essences, changing the ratio and allowing us to perform calculations.¡± That made Lyria¡¯s eyebrows rise. She knew the complexity this must have entailed. ¡°And these containers¡­ how many are we speaking of?¡± ¡°Tens of thousands,¡± Dagna replied. ¡°Each knowledge mage handles groups of twenty, with over five hundred knowledge mages assigned to this infernal project.¡± Lyria''s expression sobered. ¡°And that leaves my kingdom with barely twenty-eight knowledge mages to keep it running.¡± Though her voice was steady, a hint of weariness colored the words. The sacrifices had been hard but necessary, a bitter draft she had swallowed willingly. Even if it meant constantly managing the knowledge mages she had daily. Dagna let out a heavy sigh, her usual bravado dimming for a moment. ¡°Aye, needed it was, and there¡¯s no dodging that. Even the Seers, bless their ominous hearts, had to step in. They fill in where our knowledge hits a wall, their visions stitching together what we can¡¯t see ourselves. Fills me with dread and awe in equal measure, I tell you.¡± Her hands danced as she spoke, rough and calloused fingers sketching out runes in the air. ¡°The runes were the easy part, believe it or not,¡± she continued, her voice taking on that familiar, feverish excitement. ¡°No, it was the damn alloys that nearly sent us all to early graves. Four whole new alloys, each stubbornly attuned to a different essence type. Took years of bashing, melting, and swearing to get them right, so the essence would flow through like it was made for it, smooth as honey over warm bread. And not just that¡ªeach one lets the runes gather essence from the air itself, soaking it up straight from the mountain. We¡¯ve finally managed to rely less on those blasted essence crystals.¡± Dagna¡¯s eyes twinkled, a mix of pride and exhaustion. ¡°I swear, if I have to smell molten metal one more time, Lyria, I¡¯ll scream and turn to stone.¡± Lyria let out an unladylike snort, her blue eyes dancing with mirth. ¡°Please. Like that will ever happen. You¡¯ll probably die in the forges, chisel in hand, engraving runes with your last breath.¡± Dagna let out a bark of laughter, her whole body shaking with it. ¡°Aye, and then you¡¯d be forced to build a shrine in my honor. ¡®Here lies Lady Dagna Runeweaver, who loved molten metal more than her own sanity.¡¯¡± Lyria grinned. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure the epitaph is suitably dramatic, I promise. Maybe inlaid with a bit of molten gold. Just for you.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Dagna replied, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. ¡°You know I would haunt you if the decor is distasteful.¡± Their path led them to a pair of monumental doors, carved with scenes of old alliances and ancient wars. Dagna gestured, and the doors swung open with a creaking groan. Lyria¡¯s breath caught at the sight revealed within. The cavernous room stretched out before her, a seemingly endless expanse carved into the mountain¡¯s heart. It was vast enough that even from the entryway, she could barely make out its far walls. Row upon row of towering bookshelves lined the sides, each shelf laden with ancient tomes and scrolls. Mages stood in silent concentration before these shelves, surrounded by rows of glowing cylinders, their surfaces thrumming with runes that pulsed in rhythm with the essence held within. But it was not the devices that captivated her. Lava cascaded in slow, graceful falls from the ceiling into pools that glowed like liquid suns. Streams of crystal-clear water fell with tremendous force, splashing into basins with a sound like singing bells. In every crevice and ledge, plants of impossible resilience grew, their leaves a fierce green against the gray stone, thriving even in the thin mountain air. Massive fans, etched with runes, rotated slowly overhead, their blades channeling the hot and cool air in delicate harmony. Lyria felt the press of the essence in the air, thick as an invisible fog settling on her skin. It bore down on her with a weight that was both exhilarating and exhausting, like standing beneath the sea and marveling at its vastness. ¡°By the light of Aurora,¡± she whispered, awestruck. ¡°The lava, the water, the plants¡­ They¡¯re meant to heighten the essence density, to give the devices easier access to power.¡± Dagna nodded, pride softening her gaze. ¡°The Kairos Initiative needed power beyond measure. We are bleeding the mountain dry for it, made it cry out essence in abundance. Anything less wouldn¡¯t have been enough.¡± Just then, a burst of cheering erupted, mages crying out in triumph as something unseen completed successfully. Lyria exchanged a pleased smile with Dagna, the two sisters-in-arms reveling in their shared victory. They shared small talk, but before long, an elderly dwarf approached, his beard braided with beads of obsidian. He bowed deeply and handed a parchment to Dagna. Her brows furrowed as she read, the joy fading from her face. Lyria waited patiently, even as the moments seemed to drag on. When Dagna looked up, her voice was grim. ¡°The first predictions are in. The Beast Tide will begin within the week. A small one, unremarkable. But¡­¡± She hesitated, her eyes narrowing. ¡°If we give the Seers permission to alter the values in the system¡­ And they are right¡ª¡± Her gaze locked with Lyria¡¯s, a storm of worry brewing behind her eyes. ¡°Everything changes,¡± she said, each word hammered out like a curse. ¡°The timeline collapses. We¡¯ll have the Tide barreling down on us within the hour. And it won¡¯t be some meager spat of beasts. It¡¯ll be the biggest damned wave of monsters the world has seen since the Fall.¡± Chapter 15: The Weight of Past And The Future Chapter 15: The Weight of Past And The Future Drakgar Firehand stood atop one of the few greenhouse platform, its glass walls stretching in beautiful dome, streaked with grime of ash. The greenhouse thrummed beneath his feet, gears grinding, the air thick with the acrid scent of metal and burnt ash. He surveyed the scene, a pitiful echo of what had once been a great force. Only eight of the massive war platforms remained from the hundred they¡¯d set out with. The mighty orc convoy that had once stretched for miles across the ashen dunes was now a broken line of stragglers, dragging themselves across the wasteland like the shattered remnants of a dream. Below, orcs and elves toiled side by side, lifting barrels of seeds with weary limbs, moving their precious cargo to the greenhouses. Both races, once at each other''s throats, now bound by the shared trauma of survival. Drakgar watched them, each face a mask of grief and exhaustion. His own mask was beginning to crack. His throat tightened, and his hands curled into fists. He wanted to be strong, to stand unbroken, to show his people that he was worthy to lead, even if he knew in his heart that he was not. He could only hold his tears back for so long. The weight of grief pressed against his chest like an iron band, and he turned away, walking to the far side of the greenhouse where he could be alone. The cool glass of the greenhouse pressed against his back as he leaned into it, trembling. The panes whispered under his weight, and for a moment, he feared the fragile thing might shatter. A fitting metaphor, he thought bitterly. Even the sturdiest structures now felt so delicate, so easily broken. He bit his lip until he tasted blood, but the tears came anyway, burning trails down his scarred cheeks. He let out a broken sob, his body shuddering with the pain he had fought so hard to contain. Images of his father, the great High Chief Garrok, flashed in his mind. Garrok, who had been a giant among orcs, a warrior whose laughter could shake mountains and whose fury could break armies. And now he was gone, crushed beneath the inexorable force of war, leaving Drakgar with a burden that felt too heavy to bear. Silent tears traced a path down his cheeks, running over the fine scars that marked his face¡ªsouvenirs of past essence rituals, his attempts to make himself stronger. Each mark told a story, but none cut deeper than the fresh wounds of loss, of witnessing his father''s demise. His heart clenched as the memories returned, each a dagger twisted anew. Father, he thought, his tears dripping onto the ashen ground. You were supposed to be unbreakable. You were supposed to lead us through anything. How am I supposed to live up to you? He swallowed back the sobs that threatened to consume him, wishing for the thousandth time that he could be with his wife, Kora. He imagined himself collapsing into his wife¡¯s arms, feeling her fingers comb through his hair, soothing him, whispering words that could mend his fractured spirit. But no¡ªhe couldn¡¯t afford that luxury. His people needed her, needed her expertise to keep the greenhouses functioning, to keep the seeds alive. He couldn''t be selfish. Not now. His sobs echoed in the tight space, swallowed by the sound of the grinding machinery and the low hum of essence engines. Pain clawed at his insides, a bitter, choking grief that refused to be swallowed. Then, a hand, warm and steady, touched his shoulder. Drakgar stiffened, hastily scrubbing his tears away. He turned to find the Elven Queen, Alira Starwind, standing beside him. Her once-pristine silver armor was marred with streaks of dried blood and ash, and even the moonlight seemed to cast shadows across the deep lines of exhaustion on her ageless face. Yet her eyes, ancient and knowing, held a light that could only belong to one who had seen centuries come and go. She leaned against the railing with an elegance that seemed at odds with the ruined world around them, her movement graceful.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ¡°We have won a great victory,¡± Alira said softly, her voice melodic. ¡°but it has come at a cost that echoes beyond mortal lives. To rebuild what was lost will require strength¡ªnot the strength of the body, but of the heart.¡± Her eyes shifted to the horizon, where the first, fragile stars pierced the darkness. ¡°I have seen empires rise and fall, Drakgar. I have seen heroes who thought themselves invincible crumble when they hid from their pain. You must be strong, but strength that refuses to bend will shatter like dry wood.¡± Drakgar let out a hollow laugh, the sound bitter and sharp. ¡°Why does it matter if I¡¯m strong or not?¡± He ran a hand through his hair, strands caked with ash. ¡°Any decent dragon rider would defeat me in single combat and claim the mantle of High Chief. It¡¯s only a matter of time.¡± ¡°You are right in that,¡± she said with a small, sorrowful smile. ¡°Yet Garrok, for all his flaws, was no fool. He knew that power built upon tradition can buy you time. His decree has given you a year, one year where none may challenge you.¡± Her lips curved ever so slightly. ¡°And, if need be, I could give you an egg of your own.¡± Drakgar¡¯s eyes narrowed, suspicion threading through his grief. ¡°Why do you care so much about me being High Chief, Alira?¡± His voice cracked, and he hated how weak he sounded. ¡°I won¡¯t bond with a dragon. I¡¯ve given my heart and soul to my wife, and I won¡¯t break that promise. Not even for power.¡± ¡°Promises... a beautiful thing, are they not?¡± she mused, her gaze faraway, as though seeing a different time. ¡°Your family has always been one of thoughtfulness, of patience. So few orcish chieftains have known how to pause and listen to the tales the stars sing.¡± Her voice grew soft, as if she was recalling a memory older than Drakgar¡¯s bloodline. ¡°It is a trait I have come to value. Wisdom as rare as moonlight on a stormy night.¡± ¡°Then enjoy the year you¡¯ll get to work with me. It¡¯s all I can offer. Perhaps it¡¯ll be enough to secure a couple of harvests.¡± ¡°Or,¡± she murmured, ¡°you could consider undergoing more essence rituals. Push your limits. Defy the boundaries others have set for you.¡± Drakgar barked a harsh, joyless laugh. ¡°Have I not suffered enough?¡± He flexed his fingers, feeling the ghostly ache of the eighth ritual, the one that had almost broken his mind. ¡°I¡¯m no Thorgar Ironhide, blessed by Kaelos to withstand seventeen. I barely survived eight.¡± ¡°Limits are but shadows,¡± Alira replied. ¡°Ephemeral, made to be chased and broken. Look around you, Drakgar.¡± She gestured to the tattered remnants of their forces. ¡°Do you believe the humans will let us be? Do you believe they will not come, to see us scattered and destroyed?¡± Drakgar¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°They¡¯ll try, but the Burnt Sea belongs to the orcs. The humans wouldn¡¯t dare venture into these wastelands.¡± Alira¡¯s laughter rang out, a sound like silver bells under a bitter sky. ¡°Do you think that will stop them?¡± She stepped closer, her eyes piercing into him. ¡°The humans and dwarves have grown clever. Their queens have nurtured their love for glory, guiding them to chase after it in youth, to build strength in service of their empires. Every human and dwarven child grows up dreaming of conquest, of songs sung in their honor. ¡± Drakgar¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°So they¡¯ll be too busy squabbling among themselves.¡± ¡°Sometimes,¡± Alira admitted. ¡°By the time they are old enough to wield true power, they have learned to serve, to be disciplined¡­. The humans have armies of them. All ready to march into the Burnt Sea if called upon. Ready to die for glory.¡± Drakgar¡¯s hands curled into fists. He tried to imagine it, but Alira didn¡¯t give him the chance to dismiss her words. ¡°Close your eyes,¡± she commanded, and her voice held the authority of one who had sung to the stars. Reluctantly, he obeyed. ¡°Imagine your wife,¡± Alira whispered, her voice a caress laced with poison. ¡°Imagine her beautiful face twisted in pain, her body mutilated, human warriors standing over her corpse. Picture starving children, ash-caked and terrified, watching their parents run down and butchered by human knights.¡± The images stabbed into his mind, vivid and relentless. He could almost smell the blood, feel the horror. His heart raced, and a fire kindled in his chest, a rage that felt like molten iron. Alira leaned in, her voice now a melody woven from grief and fury. ¡°Take that fire, Drakgar. Use it. Let it shape you. Push beyond the limits that bind you, or watch as these visions become reality.¡± Drakgar¡¯s eyes snapped open, blazing with fury. The grief remained, heavy and unrelenting, but now it was alloyed with purpose, hardening into something unbreakable. I won¡¯t let that happen. No matter the cost. Chapter 16: Broken Dreams Chapter 16: Broken Dreams Kael stepped out of the library into a world he no longer recognized. Greenhaven was a corpse of a town, its heart ripped out and left to rot under a sky stained yellow with smoke. The air tasted of ash and old blood, each breath heavier than the last. Every building was either scorched or shattered, hollow shells that seemed to sag under the weight of despair. The wind blew in soft, irregular gusts, carrying the faint coppery tang of death. He hesitated at the edge of the library steps, staring out at what used to be his world. They¡¯re all gone, he thought, the words empty, mechanical. He kept saying it to himself, as if repetition would make the truth less impossible. Greenhaven¡¯s streets had once been alive with sounds¡ªlaughing children, bickering merchants, the rhythmic clatter of horses¡¯ hooves. Now there was nothing but the occasional groan of a broken beam collapsing under its own weight, and the distant, unearthly howl of one of them. Kael gripped the codex against his chest, his fingers trembling despite his efforts to still them. The weight of the book was grounding, a solid anchor in a world that had lost its moorings. He forced himself to take a step, then another, his boots crunching over broken glass and scattered debris. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the ghosts of Greenhaven clung to him, pulling him back into their grave. He navigated the ruined streets cautiously, slipping through alleyways and avoiding open spaces. His mother¡¯s voice whispered in his head, a faint echo of the woman who had taught him how to hunt, how to track, how to survive. Watch the shadows, Kael. Danger doesn¡¯t always come from the front. Prey. That¡¯s what he was now. A boy hunted by creatures whose shapes he still couldn¡¯t fully comprehend. His stomach churned at the memory of the first one he¡¯d seen¡ªa hulking beast of muscle and bone, its maw dripping with the gore of someone Kael had once called a neighbor. It had looked at him, through him, its empty eyes promising a fate far worse than death. He shook the thought away and kept moving. The forest was close, its dark edge looming at the end of the main road. No birdsong, no rustling underbrush¡ªjust an oppressive stillness broken only by the crunch of Kael¡¯s boots on fallen leaves. He moved carefully, scanning the shadows for movement. The monsters didn¡¯t always howl. Sometimes they crept silently, waiting for their prey to stumble into their path. His father had drilled it into him: Silence is survival. When he reached the hunter¡¯s spot¡ªhis camp, Kael hesitated at the entrance, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his knife. He forced himself to step inside, his heart pounding as he scanned the corners for anything amiss. The eggs were still there, nestled in the makeshift bed he had prepared for them. The sight of them brought a strange, bittersweet relief. He crouched beside them, brushing his fingers over the moss that cradled their fragile shells. They were warm to the touch, a faint pulse of life in a world that felt so devoid of it. Kael sank to the ground and pulled a strip of dried venison from his pack. He tore into it without tasting it, chewing mechanically as his thoughts drifted back to Greenhaven. The faces of the dead loomed in his mind, unbidden and unrelenting. He saw them as they had been in life¡ªsmiling, laughing, arguing over petty grievances. And then he saw them as he¡¯d last seen them: broken, bloodied, and silent. His hands trembled as he finished his meager meal. He wiped them on his trousers, smearing grease and dirt across the fabric. The codex sat in his pack, its presence a constant weight. He pulled it out and ran his fingers over its worn leather cover. Inside were answers, or so he hoped. But answers to what? To why Greenhaven had fallen? To how he was supposed to survive? Or something else entirely? As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kael ventured out into the forest to set snares and forage for anything edible. The underbrush rustled softly as he moved, the sound unnervingly loud in the stillness. He found rabbit tracks near a clearing and followed them until he spotted the animal. It was scrawny, its ribs visible through its fur, but it was meat. He notched an crossbow bolt and took the shot, the string singing in the silence. The rabbit dropped with a soft thud, and Kael felt a flicker of satisfaction¡ªa reminder that he still had skills to rely on, no matter how broken the world had become. When he returned to camp, the rabbit was skinned and roasting over a small fire before he let himself sit down. His fingers were stained with blood, and the smell of the cooking meat made his stomach churn more than it made him hungry. He ate in silence, chewing slowly as his mind wandered. What would I be doing right now if the world hadn¡¯t ended? The question was a cruel one, but it refused to leave him alone. The Harvest Moon Festival would be days away. The entire town would¡¯ve been alive with preparations. Aria would be weaving flowers into her hair, her face lit with excitement. Gareth would be pestering her with jokes, desperate to win her attention. And Kael? Kael would¡¯ve been in the shadows, watching it all with a mix of resentment and longing.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. His jaw tightened at the thought. He had spent so much of his life resenting the people of Greenhaven for their flaws¡ªtheir selfishness, their pettiness, their ignorance. Kael wiped at his eyes, though no tears fell. He still couldn¡¯t summon anything more than apathy for the people he had lost. The guilt gnawed at him, but it wasn¡¯t enough to bridge the chasm of resentment. He still hated them for their hypocrisy. He hated how they whispered behind his back, blaming him and his father for his mother¡¯s and sister¡¯s deaths. As if they had chosen to let them die. As if Kael¡¯s father, with his ruined leg, could have done anything to help. As if Kael, barely old enough to hold a knife, could have made a difference. And where had those same people been when his mother and sister fought to protect them? Hiding in their homes, cowering behind locked doors while his family bled.Yet the hatred was muted now; it no longer controlled him as it once had, their brutal deaths having dulled Kael¡¯s spite. But now, in the crushing silence of their absence, he realized something even uglier. I let them die in my heart long before they died in the flesh. His mother¡¯s voice came unbidden, soft but firm, a rebuke he hadn¡¯t expected. He had clung to his bitterness, to his father¡¯s stoic silence, instead of his mother¡¯s teachings. Her belief in forgiveness, in the value of flawed humanity, had faded from him over time¡ªuntil over three thousand souls had vanished forever. He opened the codex, letting the firelight spill across the pages. The shifting, twisting symbols almost seemed alive, teasing him with their cryptic patterns. He traced them with his fingers, willing his mind to focus. This knowledge had to mean something. The knowledge contained within was ancient and powerful, but as he turned page after page, it felt hollow in his hands. What good was knowledge when the world was gone? The fire crackled softly as Kael studied, his thoughts circling like a predator unsure where to strike. What were other kids my age doing right now? Preparing for the Harvest Moon Festival, no doubt. Chasing after their dreams of glory and ambitions. Just like Kael had been doing a day ago. A day ago. The realization hit him like a physical blow. That day¡ªthe day the beasts came¡ªfelt like a lifetime ago, as though it separated two entirely different people. The boy who had lived in Greenhaven, who had spent his time training and quietly nursing his bitterness, was gone. The boy who had only wanted to leave Greenhaven was dead. In his place was someone harder, emptier. Someone who couldn¡¯t afford the luxury of hatred or regret. His mother¡¯s teachings came back to him, faint and broken, like a song he had once known by heart but had long since forgotten. Compassion doesn¡¯t make you weak, Kael. It makes you strong enough to endure. He had let those lessons fade away. He had let his bitterness poison him, and now it was too late. Over three thousand souls had said their final farewells, and he had let them pass without forgiveness. But no longer. He couldn¡¯t afford to be that boy anymore. He would survive. He would find a way to escape this hell, to honor the memory of those who had died by refusing to join them. The codex offered no easy answers to the question of escape. Kael¡¯s brow furrowed as he traced a diagram of some kind of ritual¡ªa way to seal a small space against monsters. Useful, perhaps, but not the solution he needed. His mind churned as he considered his options. How do I survive this? The beast tide had moved inward, toward the kingdom¡¯s cities. That much was clear. The monsters that had overrun Greenhaven would be swarming toward the larger towns, cutting off the roads and making any direct route to safety impossible. Kael thought of the forest¡ªvast and tangled, stretching for miles in every direction. He could try to navigate it, but that would mean heading toward the Burnt Sea. His stomach twisted at the thought. The Burnt Sea was no better than the beasts. It was a scorched wasteland, where the kingdom¡¯s forces and the orcish armies clashed. The air there was thick with ash and death, its waters poisoned by blood and magic. But maybe¡ª_maybe_¡ªthe fighting had stopped. The beast tide would have forced both sides to retreat or die, and Kael hadn¡¯t heard the distant thunder of battle for hours. If the battlefield was empty, he could use the Burnt Sea to skirt the mountain range that separated Greenhaven from the plains. Beyond the mountains were the kingdom¡¯s heartlands¡ªthe farms and cities that might still stand. It was a desperate plan. But desperation was all Kael had left. Kael¡¯s head spun with the possibilities and dangers. Each path felt like a gamble with stakes too high to fully comprehend. He didn¡¯t have enough information, not yet. But that didn¡¯t matter right now. What mattered was moving forward, escaping this graveyard of a town. He forced himself to keep studying the codex. But exhaustion clung to him like a leaden cloak, his mind slowing as the weight of the day caught up with him. His thoughts began to fragment, the words on the page blurring as sleep dragged him down. Kael¡¯s head slumped forward, the codex sliding from his hands to rest on the ground. His breathing slowed, and the fire burned low, casting long shadows. In the silence, a faint sound broke the stillness. A sharp crack, like the snapping of dry wood, echoed through the camp. One of the dragon eggs shuddered in its mossy cradle, a thin fissure spreading across its surface. Kael didn¡¯t stir. The world outside could wait. The beasts, the codex, the weight of his failures¡ªall of it faded into the haze of sleep. And in the darkness of his hiding spot, life began to stir, fragile and ancient, ready to change everything. Chapter 17: Judged by Fire Chapter 17: Judged by Fire Kael woke to the smoky aroma of his fire¡¯s embers, a stark contrast to the restless dreams that had plagued him through the night. The dawn light filtered weakly through the forest canopy, painting everything in muted shades of gray and amber. He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the remnants of the visions: twisted, hollow voices and haunting golden eyes that stared through him like a predator sizing up its prey. The codex lay open beside him, its pages scattered with frantic notes. He couldn¡¯t remember falling asleep. Beside the fire, the roasted remains of the rabbit were cold, only half-eaten. His stomach churned at the thought of finishing it. And then he saw it. One of the dragon eggs, black as midnight and cradled in a bed of moss, was no longer whole. A fracture split its surface, glowing faintly with a molten light that pulsed like a dying heartbeat. Kael¡¯s breath caught in his throat. No. Not here. Not now. Panic surged through him. His hands, calloused and trembling, hovered over the egg as if to shield it. The glow from the fissure reflected in his wide eyes, drawing him closer, entrancing him. When his fingertips brushed the cracked shell, the world shattered. Kael stumbled into a void of endless, blinding silver light. The air was suffocating, thick with a weight that pressed against his chest. He turned, searching for something solid, but found nothing but the featureless expanse. And then the light shifted, coalescing into a towering figure clad in radiant silver armor, its presence radiating an oppressive authority. It held a silver scale weighing a sword and crown. Arthor. The god of judgment. The Father of Order. The arbiter whose edicts bound the mortal and immortal alike. ¡°You stand before me unworthy,¡± Arthor¡¯s voice thundered, a grim pronouncement that echoed in the marrow of Kael¡¯s bones. The god loomed over him, faceless behind his gleaming mask, a massive sword in one hand and scales in the other. ¡°You seek to bond with a creature of flame and fury, yet your soul is mired in chaos. Prove yourself.¡± Kael swallowed hard. His throat was dry, his mind blank. What could he say? What could he possibly offer to a god who weighed the hearts of kings and crushed kingdoms with a single decree? ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t choose this,¡± he stammered. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask to lose everything. To carry this¡ªthis weight.¡± His voice cracked, anger bleeding into his words. ¡°And now you want me to prove myself? Prove what? That I can carry another burden for your amusement?¡± The scales tipped, the motion slow but deliberate. The blade sank lower, its edge glinting ominously. ¡°You confuse survival with strength,¡± Arthor said coldly. ¡°You confuse defiance with justice. If you are to wield the fire of a dragon, you must understand the weight of your actions. Prepare yourself.¡± The void twisted, the light bleeding away into darkness. Kael¡¯s stomach lurched as the ground re-formed beneath his feet¡ªhard, jagged, and soaked with blood. Kael stood on a battlefield. Broken banners snapped in a bitter wind, and the ground was littered with corpses. Men and women, soldiers and civilians, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. A single figure emerged from the haze, shrouded in shadow, its form flickering like a flame caught in a storm. Its eyes glowed with the same golden light that had haunted Kael¡¯s dreams. The figure held a jagged blade slick with blood. At its feet lay the bodies of villagers¡ªhis villagers. Greenhaven. The dead faces of his family stared up at him, their mouths open in silent accusations. ¡°This is the trial of justice,¡± Arthor¡¯s voice rumbled from above. ¡°This enemy has wronged you. Wronged your people. Their crimes are undeniable. What will you do?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t even know what it is!¡± Kael shouted into the void, his voice cracking. ¡°How can I fight something I don¡¯t understand?¡± ¡°You are not asked to understand,¡± Arthor replied. ¡°Only to judge.¡± Kael staggered backward, his pulse roaring in his ears. The figure advanced, its steps slow, deliberate. He reached for his dagger, but it wasn¡¯t there. His hands were empty. The creature lunged, and Kael barely dodged, stumbling into the wreckage of a cart. His hand closed around something cold and solid¡ªa sword, rusted and pitted with age. He raised it, his arms shaking under its weight. ¡°You are not asked to fight, either,¡± Arthor¡¯s voice cut through Kael¡¯s racing thoughts. ¡°Choose.¡± The figure halted, its golden eyes narrowing. Arthor¡¯s scales appeared in the air before him, shimmering faintly. The crown and the blade hung in delicate balance, waiting for Kael¡¯s decision. ¡°You must choose,¡± Arthor commanded. ¡°Justice demands action.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Kael gritted his teeth. The sword in his hand felt foreign, wrong. He wanted to lash out, to bury the blade in the creature¡¯s chest, to end its mockery of his failure. But the faces of the dead stopped him. Their lifeless eyes pleaded for more than vengeance. ¡°No,¡± Kael said, his voice hoarse. He threw the sword to the ground. ¡°I won¡¯t fight. I won¡¯t kill it.¡± The battlefield dissolved into the void. Arthor¡¯s towering form appeared once more, his expression unreadable behind the silver mask. ¡°Mercy is not weakness,¡± the god said. ¡°But neither is it always justice. Remember this lesson, mortal. The scales of judgment do not favor absolutes.¡± The silver light faded, replaced by the verdant glade where Aeloria, the Mother of Creation, awaited. Her radiant beauty was muted, her serene smile tempered with sorrow. She stood beside a sapling, its delicate branches trembling as though caught in a storm. ¡°You have faced judgment,¡± she said softly. ¡°Now you must prove that you can create where others destroy.¡± Kael eyed the sapling warily. Its leaves were already browning, the soil at its base dry and cracked. ¡°What is this?¡± he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. ¡°It is your soul,¡± Aeloria replied. ¡°Scarred. Fragile. On the brink of ruin. Save it.¡± The sapling began to wither before his eyes, its leaves curling inward as its bark split and blackened. Kael dropped to his knees, his hands fumbling at the dry soil, trying to scoop water from the earth. It crumbled in his hands, useless. ¡°I don¡¯t know how,¡± he whispered, desperation clawing at his throat. Aeloria knelt beside him, her gaze piercing. ¡°Your grief, your rage¡ªthey are not poison. They are fire. Will you let them consume, or will you wield them?¡± Kael closed his eyes. Memories flooded his mind: the laughter of his sister, the warmth of his mother¡¯s embrace, the promise of a future now reduced to ash. He felt the anger and sorrow rise within him, threatening to drown him. But instead of fighting it, he embraced it. The earth beneath the sapling darkened, rich and fertile. The sapling straightened, its leaves unfurling, their edges glowing faintly with crimson light. A single flower bloomed at its apex, its petals blood-red and shimmering with embers. Aeloria smiled faintly. ¡°Even in ash, life takes root. Remember this.¡± Kael found himself in Greenhaven again. The ruins were sharper now, the smell of charred wood and flesh so real it choked him. The air itself seemed heavy, saturated with despair, the distant cries of the dying echoing in his ears. Amid the devastation stood Amoria, the Goddess of Love. She was unscathed by the ruin around her, a radiant figure of impossible beauty in a landscape of despair. Her golden robes shimmered like liquid sunlight, untouched by soot or ash, and yet her presence was not comforting. It was piercing. Her eyes, deep pools of molten gold, seemed to see straight into Kael¡¯s soul, stripping away the walls he had built around his grief and anger. In one delicate hand, she held a goblet of crystalline glass, overflowing with dark red wine that spilled continuously, staining the ground at her feet. Where it touched the earth, roses bloomed¡ªdark, blood-red, and thorned¡ªonly to wither moments later, their petals curling into ash. ¡°This is the trial of the heart,¡± she said, her voice softer than the others, yet no less piercing. ¡°You carry their loss. Their pain. Do you carry their love as well?¡± Kael looked away, his hands clenching into fists. ¡°Love doesn¡¯t matter,¡± he said bitterly. ¡°It didn¡¯t save them.¡± Amoria¡¯s expression hardened, the warmth in her voice cooling like embers buried under ash. ¡°Love does not guarantee salvation. It does not shield against cruelty. It is fragile, Kael¡ªpainfully so. Yet, for all its frailty, it endures. Tell me, what endured in you when your world fell apart?¡± He turned to her, anger flashing in his eyes. ¡°Pain. Hate. The drive to survive.¡± His voice cracked under the weight of his words. ¡°Not love. Not anymore.¡± Amoria stepped closer, the golden glow of her robes casting long shadows over the ruined ground. Her eyes bore into him, unyielding. ¡°You believe that?¡± She gestured to the charred rosebush, its skeletal branches trembling in the cold wind. ¡°Then take it. Crush it. Prove your love is gone.¡± Kael hesitated, his gaze fixed on the twisted bush. Its blackened thorns jutted outward, sharp and unforgiving. He reached out, his fingers closing around the stem. Pain exploded through his hand as the thorns pierced his flesh, drawing rivulets of blood. He wanted to let go, to cast the thing aside, but his grip tightened instead. The bush writhed in his hand, its thorns growing, twisting into his palm. Faces began to form within its petals¡ªhis sister, his mother, the villagers of Greenhaven. They stared at him, their expressions twisted with grief and accusation. ¡°You blame love for your pain,¡± Amoria said. ¡°But love did not kill them. It is the weight you carry because you _loved them_ that keeps their memory alive. Pain is not the absence of love. It is its shadow.¡± The faces in the rosebush began to scream silently, their mouths wide, their eyes endless pits of golden light. Kael gritted his teeth as the cries echoed in his mind. His blood dripped to the earth, pooling around the roots of the bush. The wind howled, carrying whispers of every name he had lost. ¡°Do you see?¡± Amoria pressed, stepping closer. ¡°Love is agony. It is a blade that cuts deepest when it is lost. But it is also a seed, waiting for you to plant it in the ashes of what you once had. Will you let it grow?¡± Kael¡¯s knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, the rosebush still in his hand. He stared at it, his blood soaking into the scorched petals. His voice was barely a whisper. ¡°I don¡¯t know how.¡± Amoria knelt beside him, her fingers brushing the ruined earth. ¡°You do,¡± she said softly. ¡°You just don¡¯t believe you deserve to. Love cannot bring back the dead, but it can honor them. It can give their sacrifice meaning.¡± Kael closed his eyes, his tears mixing with the blood on his hands. Slowly, the rosebush began to change. The blackened stems softened, their thorns retracting. The petals unfurled, their scorched edges glowing faintly with golden light. A single flower bloomed, brilliant and unbroken. Amoria stood, her voice now as gentle as a lullaby. ¡°Love does not erase scars, Kael. It does not heal wounds. But it gives you a reason to endure. Even in ruin, beauty can take root.¡± Kael opened his eyes, the glowing rose in his hand trembling. For the first time, he allowed himself to feel the weight of his love for those he had lost¡ªnot as a burden, but as a testament. Amoria smiled faintly. ¡°You have learned. Let this be your guide, for the trials ahead will demand it.¡± And then she was gone, leaving him alone with the rose and the memories it carried. Kael¡¯s eyes snapped open, the smell of smoke and ash flooding his senses. The cracked egg sat in his hands, its color had shifted to copperish hue. His fingers tingled where they touched its surface, a faint connection thrumming between him and the life within. The egg hadn¡¯t hatched, but something had changed. It was alive, a part of him in a way that defied explanation. For the first time since Greenhaven fell, Kael felt something else: hope. He wasn¡¯t just surviving anymore. He had a purpose. And he wasn¡¯t alone. Chapter 18: Fractured Reflections Chapter 19: Fractured Reflections Lyanna woke to the acrid stench of ash, blood, and antiseptic herbs¡ªa symphony of ruin that seemed to hang in the air like a curse. Her body screamed in protest as she stirred, each movement a rebellion of stiff, uncooperative muscles. A splitting ache hammered behind her eyes, reverberating against her skull with a cruel rhythm. She lay still for a moment, staring at the stained fabric of the tent ceiling above her, her breath shallow and uncertain. The world felt muted and distant, as though she were trapped behind a wall of glass, her mind weightless¡ªa void where her thoughts should have been. Then the memories came. A torrent that crashed through her like a breaking wave. The Beast Tide. Eda¡¯s sacrifice. The clash of steel and the searing agony of losing her fingers. Her mind flooded with images: Eda¡¯s divine light fading, Alric¡¯s bloodied armor, the dragons tearing through the night sky. The rawness of it all tore at her, leaving her gasping as though her very soul had been ripped open and exposed. Lyanna sat up abruptly. Breath quickened. Head throbbing with the aftershocks of exhaustion, and her right hand¡ªher mangled hand¡ªthrobbed with a deep pain. The tent spun around her as motion sent lances of pain flaring through her side. Her hand shot out, grasping for stability as panic rose in her chest. She was back on that battlefield¡ªshe could feel it. The constricting vines, the screaming metal, the choking smoke. She pressed a trembling hand to her ribs, her heart pounding as though it were trying to break free of her chest. Her gaze darted frantically around the dimly lit tent, searching, needing to see them. Ember. Scarlet. They weren¡¯t beside her. Where are they? Panic clawed at her throat, and she scrambled to her feet, the world spinning dangerously. She pushed herself upright, ignoring the shooting pain in her ribs and the way her head spun violently at the motion. Her body protested every movement, muscles quaking under the weight of fatigue and magic depletion. She stumbled, catching herself on the edge of the cot, and her mind screamed at her to find her blades. Her feet hit the cold, hard ground, and she nearly toppled over. She caught herself against the cot, wincing as her injured hand flared with pain. A row of cots stretched out beside her, each one occupied by motionless bodies swaddled in bloodied linen. Almost every soldier bore the marks of battle: jagged scars across cheeks, burns twisting up arms, bandaged stumps where limbs had once been. The tent was a monument to survival, and to the cost it demanded. She searched the space with desperate eyes, kicking aside blankets and overturned buckets until she finally saw them. Beneath the cot she¡¯d been lying on, resting clean and gleaming despite the carnage they¡¯d endured, were Ember and Scarlet. Relief rushed through her in a trembling wave. She dropped to her knees, cradling Ember¡¯s hilt with her left hand before reaching for Scarlet. But when she tried to grip the sword, her mangled hand betrayed her. The sword slipped. Scarlet clattered against the cot frame. Her three remaining fingers couldn¡¯t form a proper grip. Lyanna swore loudly, the word breaking the silence like a whip crack. She clenched her jaw as frustration boiled inside her, sharp and unrelenting. The middle and index fingers of her left hand were gone, severed in the chaos of the Beast Tide. Though the wounds had been sealed, the phantom pain felt as real as the hot, searing agony she¡¯d endured during the battle. She gritted her teeth, adjusting her hold, but Scarlet tilted again, refusing her grasp. Her breaths came faster, shallow and uneven, until the tears welled unbidden. Why couldn¡¯t they heal my fingers? she thought bitterly. I¡¯m no use like this. How can I fight? How can I wield Scarlet if I can¡¯t even hold her? She already knew the answer. The answer was as brutal as it was simple: healing magic had limits, and her fingers¡ªhastily half-healed during the battle. The essence needed to fully regenerate them was more than anyone could afford. Even the most skilled healers couldn¡¯t fix what her body had already accepted as ¡°healed.¡± Now time had sealed her fate. Her breathing quickened as she tried again, her determination as fierce as her fury. But the blade tilted in her grasp, refusing her control. Frustration welled up inside her, sharp and hot. She bit down on a scream, but a choked sob escaped instead, raw and broken. Tears blurred her vision as she gripped her wrist tightly, her good hand trembling. Pathetic. You''re pathetic. Tears streaked her face as she forced herself to her feet, the weight of her swords pulling at her arms. Get it together, Lyanna. She wiped her face with her good hand, swallowing the lump in her throat. Her mother¡¯s voice rang in her mind, sharp and unyielding. ¡°Mirrorguards don¡¯t cry. Especially not in front of soldiers. You¡¯re their strength when they have none.¡± Lyanna forced herself to her feet, dragging her swords into their scabbards with a movement that felt clumsy and incomplete. The weight of them felt wrong now, an unfamiliar burden instead of a comfort. She wiped her face with her good hand, swallowing the lump in her throat. You¡¯ll adapt. You have to.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The camp was a hive of subdued activity. The sun hung low in the late afternoon sky, its pale light filtering through the smoky haze, painting everything in shades of gold and dust. Soldiers bustled about, erecting new tents and repairing makeshift fortifications. The smell of cooking food wafted through the air, mingling with the ever-present stench of blood and burnt flesh. The sight made her stomach churn, not from its beauty, but from its contrasts. Just hours ago¡ªhad it been hours?¡ªthis ground had been a battlefield, soaked in blood and ringing with screams. Now, it was an eerie semblance of normalcy, soldiers building defenses, mending armor, and tending to wounds. A strange kinship gripped her chest as she watched them. Just a day ago, she would have resented the decision to prioritize the soldiers over her own injuries. But she¡¯d bled beside these men and women, seen their courage and sacrifices. They deserved their lives back, even if hers felt shattered. Lyanna walked stiffly, her movements slow and deliberate as she fought the exhaustion still weighing her down. She caught sight of a young soldier¡ªbarely more than a boy¡ªdragging a crate of supplies. His arm was in a sling, and a jagged scar ran across his face, but he gave her a weary nod as she passed. Her stomach churned. Do they see me as broken? she wondered. Do they see me as weak? She nodded back, forcing her expression into a mask of calm, though her insides twisted. Lyanna moved through the camp, her steps unsteady but determined. Each face she passed deepened the ache in her chest. Soldiers nodded respectfully, some murmuring her name, but their gazes were like weights she couldn¡¯t shake. That mix of respect and sorrow, as though they were looking at a ghost. As though she were already half a ghost. She wasn¡¯t sure if it was because of her missing fingers, Eda¡¯s death, or some other tragedy she hadn¡¯t yet uncovered. The thought made her stomach churn. She clenched her jaw, forcing her gaze forward. The makeshift commander¡¯s tent loomed in the distance, a grim monument to the battle they¡¯d survived. It had been built atop the remnants of the Skybreaker cannon¡¯s platform, now repurposed as a central hub for the camp¡¯s operations. The massive tent, patched together from military fabric and salvaged tarps, dominated the camp like a warlord¡¯s throne. Near the tent, a sapphire dragon lay coiled, its shimmering scales catching the pale afternoon light. Its head rested on its forelegs, eyes closed. To anyone else, it might have looked serene, even majestic, but Lyanna knew better. Dragons never truly rested, not in the aftermath of a battle. Their breaths might slow, but their ears¡ªif you could call them that¡ªremained attuned to the faintest disturbances. The sight of the dragon stirred conflicting emotions in her. Comfort, because it was a reminder of the immense power that had saved them. Unease, because it raised a question she couldn¡¯t ignore: Where are the others? Pyrope¡¯s absence gnawed at her thoughts. If Karina and Pyrope had fought through yesterday, they should be here, resting. Pyrope, in particular, never strayed far from where the dragons¡¯ riders gathered, and her nosy nature usually meant her snout would be poking through the tent¡¯s specially designed flaps, eavesdropping on the conversations within. The absence of that familiar sight sent a ripple of anxiety through Lyanna. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sharp twist of hunger clawing at her stomach. The ache was a reminder that magic, for all its wonder, couldn¡¯t stave off hunger without a price. Better to endure the gnawing emptiness than waste what little essence remained. She scanned the camp for relief and spotted a group of soldiers near a cookfire. An older woman stood at its center, ladling broth into wooden bowls. Lyanna¡¯s heart lifted slightly at the sight of her: Mara, a seasoned veteran whose presence was as steadying as it was familiar. Mara had served her family for decades, and though time had creased her face and streaked her hair with gray, her sharp eyes remained as piercing as ever. When those eyes landed on Lyanna, they softened with a warmth Lyanna didn¡¯t realize she needed. ¡°My lady,¡± Mara said, her voice warm with relief. ¡°We didn¡¯t expect you to wake so soon. If at all.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve always been difficult to kill,¡± Lyanna said with a faint smile, though the words felt hollow. Her gaze flicked to the pot. ¡°Any chance there¡¯s enough for me?¡± Mara snorted, already filling a bowl. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be out of bed,¡± she chided, handing it over. ¡°But I suppose telling you that would be a waste of breath.¡± Lyanna accepted the bowl with a murmured thanks, the rich scent of the broth a sharp contrast to the carnage that still lingered in her memory. She hesitated before asking, her voice carefully steady, ¡°Have any of the other mages woken?¡± Mara¡¯s expression darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°A couple,¡± she admitted, her tone low, as though the words themselves were a burden. ¡°But fewer than we¡¯d hoped. Less than two dozen of you are still breathing, and maybe half that will wake.¡± Lyanna¡¯s stomach tightened at the number. Less than two dozen? Her mind reeled. She thought of the lines of mages at the Skybreaker¡¯s base, each one a vital piece of their defense, their faces illuminated by firelight and determination. Now those faces blurred in her memory, each one stamped with death¡¯s shadow. Mara continued, her voice quieter, almost reluctant. ¡°We¡¯re hoping young Lord Blackthorn is among them.¡± The mention of Alric¡¯s name hit Lyanna like a blade to the gut. She swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat refused to budge. Alric. Severe wounds. That was a generous way to describe what she¡¯d seen. His blood-soaked armor. The slackness in his features as he fought. ¡°Alric...¡± Lyanna faltered, her good hand tightening on the bowl as if the warmth might ground her. ¡°It¡¯s unlikely. His wounds were...¡± She stopped again, the words catching in her throat. ¡°Severe,¡± she finished finally, the word feeling hollow and insufficient. ¡°And the magic he used¡ªit took everything he had.¡± Mara¡¯s sharp eyes flicked to her face, the faintest lift of an eyebrow betraying her curiosity. She noticed, Lyanna thought grimly. She¡¯d slipped, letting the familiarity of Alric¡¯s name creep into her voice, the weight of her worry laid bare. She braced for a comment, but Mara only nodded, her gaze shadowed. ¡°Where are the dragon riders?¡± she asked instead, the question slipping out before she could stop herself. Her voice betrayed her tension, edged with a sharpness she hadn¡¯t intended. ¡°My sisters?¡± Mara¡¯s hands stilled, and a flicker of something¡ªpity, hesitation¡ªcrossed her face. Her grip tightened on the ladle. She looked away, busying herself with the fire as if its flames held the answers Lyanna needed. ¡°You¡¯ll want to speak to the general,¡± Mara repeated, her tone quieter now, more careful. ¡°She¡¯ll explain everything.¡± The silence that followed was suffocating, pressing against Lyanna¡¯s chest like a physical weight. She opened her mouth to demand more, but the words wouldn¡¯t come. Her heart hammered in her chest, a frantic rhythm of unease. Why won¡¯t you just tell me? she thought, anger and fear tangling together in a knot of frustration. Mara glanced at her again, her eyes softening despite the tension in her features. ¡°Eat,¡± she said gently, pushing the ladle back into the pot. ¡°You need your strength. We all do.¡± Lyanna nodded mechanically, raising the bowl to her lips. The broth was hot and savory, its warmth spreading through her like a fragile balm. But it did little to chase away the cold dread coiling in her chest. Mara¡¯s reluctance to answer was like a shadow creeping at the edges of her thoughts, whispering of truths too painful to face. What aren¡¯t you telling me? She drank the broth in silence, her mind a storm of questions she wasn¡¯t sure she wanted answered. Chapter 19: Everything is Ash The ash clung to Lyanna¡¯s armor like a second skin, the embers of the battlefield glowing faintly in the dim light of the afternoon sun filtering through the ashen clouds. The hot breath of the sapphire dragon ¨C Nyxalor, she suspected ¨C washed over her pauldrons, sending swirls of ash cascading like dark snowflakes over the canvas walls of the makeshift command tent. Her boots crunched against the hardened, scorched earth as she entered the tent, steeling herself for what awaited inside. The interior smelled of damp canvas and ink, the sharp tang of old blood faintly lingering beneath. The light came from a cluster of oil lamps, their flames guttering in the slight breeze. A round table, battered and scarred with deep gouges, dominated the center of the space. It was strewn with maps and reports, some rolled into tight cylinders, others spread open to reveal strategic positions marked in dark ink. The edges of the maps were frayed and curling, and an empty tin mug sat precariously close to the edge, the remnants of its contents long dried into a dark stain. Around the table, mismatched wooden chairs stood like sentinels, their legs uneven and wobbling on the uneven ground. She spotted the unmistakable figure of Seren Vraemir, Warden and scion of the major house Vraemir, confirming her guess. Seren sat at the far side, his broad shoulders bent under the weight of some document in his hands. His dark hair fell in an unruly curtain, streaks of silver glinting in the flickering light. He looked up from the report in his hand as she entered, his sharp, gray eyes scanning her with an intensity that made her stomach twist. Though his youthful appearance belied his true age, Lyanna knew Seren had half a century of blood on his hands, a butcher only a rank of Warden is just below Champion. ¡°Lady Lyanna,¡± Seren said, inclining his head in acknowledgment. ¡°Sit.¡± Lyanna dropped her gaze respectfully, aware of the gulf between their stations. As her tutors and her mother had drilled into her. The silence stretched as she sank into the chair. It wobbled precariously, its back warped from the weight of previous occupants. She folded her hands folding tightly in her lap as she fought to steady her breathing. She forced herself to look up, meeting Seren¡¯s gaze. The lines of his face were grim, shadowed by the weight of something she couldn¡¯t yet name. ¡°I won¡¯t delay,¡± Seren began, setting the parchment down with a heavy sigh. He pushed a stray lock of hair out of his face, his expression softening for a moment before hardening again. ¡°There¡¯s no point in dragging this out. *Lady Karina and Pyrope are dead.*¡± The words hit her like a blade to the gut. Lyanna¡¯s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, the room spun around her. Her vision blurred as her mind scrambling to process the impossible. Karina, the indomitable champion, her sister¡ªthe one who had been her guiding star, her shadow, her tether to something greater¡ªgone. Pyrope, the fierce and loyal dragon who had grown from a trembling hatchling into a creature of fire and might. ¡°That¡­ that can¡¯t be,¡± Lyanna stammered, her voice trembling. ¡°They¡¯ve only been gone a day. Surely, if we just waited¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s been two days,¡± Seren interrupted, his tone measured but unyielding. ¡°The battle ended two nights ago. You and the mages were unconscious, drained to the brink. The Burnt Sea and the Beast Tide stripped the essence from the air. It¡¯s a miracle you¡¯re even awake now.¡± Lyanna shook her head, her hands clenching tightly. ¡°Two days¡­? No. They can¡¯t be¡ª¡± Her voice broke. The memories surged, unbidden. She saw Karina as a young cadet, always standing just a little taller, her confidence shining like a beacon. Her thoughts turned unbidden to Pyrope, the dragon that had been as much a part of their family as any human. She remembered Pyrope as a wobbly-legged hatchling, so small she could cradle her in her arms. During Karina¡¯s brief visits home from the Queen¡¯s dragon riding university, Lyanna would sneak the little dragon into her room. She would read stories aloud, resting her head against Pyrope¡¯s warm, scaled body, comforted by the dragon¡¯s rhythmic breathing as winter howled outside. Karina¡¯s laughter as she teased her about the growing pile of books on her bedside table. The shadow her sister cast¡ªa shadow Lyanna had both resented and relied upon. Her vision blurred, and she realized too late that tears were spilling down her cheeks. Seren leaned forward, his expression softening, and offered her a handkerchief. She took it with trembling hands, dabbing at her face as shame coiled in her chest. ¡°Forgive me,¡± she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I¡­ I shouldn¡¯t have lost my composure.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve lost family,¡± Seren said simply. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t hold it against you. But time is not on my side, and there is much to discuss.¡± She nodded, swallowing hard and folding the handkerchief neatly before setting it on the table. ¡°What must I do, my lord?¡± Seren¡¯s eyes darkened. ¡°I¡¯m leaving for Kandria,¡± he said. ¡°The city is under siege.¡± Lyanna¡¯s heart lurched. ¡°Kandria?¡± she whispered. ¡°My parents¡­¡± ¡°They¡¯re alive,¡± Seren assured her. ¡°For now. But the situation is dire. Two Ruin Beasts lead the tide, and a cultist of the Fallen One betrayed us and left a hole in the wards. The Skybreaker cannon has been destroyed, and the beasts have overtaken the outer defenses.¡± The words left her reeling. Kandria¡ªthe city of stone and magic, her family¡¯s seat of power. It had stood against countless enemies for two millennia. How could it fall now?This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°But Kandria¡¯s defenses are unmatched,¡± she protested. ¡°The walls, the wards¡ªLord Hammerfall himself built them! And the army¡ªfive thousand strong¡ªthey can hold¡ª¡± Seren winced, his unease clear. ¡°This is no ordinary tide,¡± he said. ¡°The Ruin Beasts leading it are far stronger than anything your army faced here. Her Majesty has ordered five dragon riders and ten corps to aid the city.¡± ¡°Five?¡± Lyanna¡¯s voice rose, incredulous. ¡°Only five? If the threat is as grave as you say, why¡ª¡± ¡°Thirteen corps are deployed along the troll border,¡± Seren interrupted. ¡°The dwarves have committed six legions as well. The rest of the riders are tied up there.¡± Lyanna¡¯s thoughts raced, her fingers twisting a strand of red hair. ¡°That still leaves six corps,¡± she pressed. ¡°And the Queen always keeps two in reserve¡ª¡± ¡°They¡¯re at the elven border,¡± Seren cut in, his tone sharp. ¡°Alongside the rest of the dwarven legions. Her Majesty commands them personally. No one knows why.¡± Silence fell between them, heavy and oppressive. Lyanna¡¯s mind churned, grappling with the enormity of it all. Her sister was gone. Kandria was under siege. And the world itself seemed on the brink of collapse. ¡°And you¡¯re leaving for Kandria,¡± she said finally, her voice hollow. Seren nodded. ¡°The rest of my wing has already flown ahead. I waited only to pass command back to you.¡± Lyanna¡¯s chest tightened. ¡°I¡¯m not ready,¡± she admitted, the words bitter on her tongue. ¡°You¡¯ve read the reports. I¡¯m the reason most of my army is dead.¡± ¡°You made the right decisions,¡± Seren said firmly. ¡°All but one. And that mistake¡­ it was only Karina¡¯s intuition that could have prevented it. No one else would have seen it coming.¡± She opened her mouth to protest, but Seren raised a hand, silencing her. ¡°These are Her Majesty¡¯s orders,¡± he said. ¡°Your task is to clear the woods of monsters and march to Kandria. Clear any overrun towns along the way.¡± ¡°But my forces¡ª¡± Lyanna began, desperation creeping into her voice. ¡°I have only a few hundred soldiers left. They¡¯re broken. They need rest. The supply lines¡ª¡± ¡°Are long and fragile,¡± Seren finished for her. ¡°And you lack aerial support. I know. But the Queen has set no time limit on her command. If I were you, I¡¯d spend the next few days fortifying your camp and letting your troops recover.¡± Lyanna sat in silence, her mind churning. Her sister¡¯s shadow loomed large in her thoughts, but now, for the first time, it felt like a void¡ªa gaping hole that she could never hope to fill. The weight of responsibility threatened to crush her, but she forced herself to straighten her spine and lift her chin. ¡°Very well, Warden,¡± she said at last. ¡°I will do as the Queen commands. But may the gods have mercy on us if I fail.¡± Seren stood, the chair creaking beneath him as he pushed it back. ¡°Good. Kandria needs me, but your path is just as important. Take care, Lady Lyanna.¡± And with that, he was gone, leaving her alone in the flickering light. The air in the command tent felt heavier after Seren''s departure, as though the very fabric of the space were trying to crush her. Lyanna sat motionless in the rickety chair, her mind replaying Seren¡¯s words on an endless loop. Lady Karina and Pyrope are dead. The world outside the tent seemed muted, as if mourning alongside her. The steady breathing of the sapphire dragon, the distant clinking of armor from her soldiers, even the muffled voices of officers attempting to instill some semblance of order in the shattered remnants of her forces¡ªall of it blurred into the background. Her thoughts refused to settle, racing from memory to memory. Karina had been her sister, her guardian, her idol. For years, Lyanna had stood in the shadow of the Champion, both comforted and suffocated by her brilliance. Karina had made everything seem so simple, so effortless. She had always known the right words to say, the right decisions to make. And Pyrope¡ªher fiery, mischievous partner¡ªhad been an extension of that confidence, a beacon of warmth and strength. Lyanna clutched the handkerchief Seren had given her, its fabric coarse against her skin. Her chest ached with the weight of unspoken words and memories long buried. She had always meant to tell Karina how much she admired her, how much she had learned just by watching her. But she had never said it aloud. And now, she never could. The thought sent a fresh wave of anguish crashing over her. She bit her lip to stifle a sob, her nails digging into her palms. Not here. Not now. You are a Commander now, not a grieving sister. You can mourn when your soldiers are safe. She repeated the mantra in her head like a prayer, but the words felt hollow. The tent flap rustled, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts. She looked up sharply, half-expecting Seren to have returned, but it was one of her captains¡ªDavor, a grizzled veteran with a limp and a permanent scowl etched into his face. He bowed stiffly, his armor clinking. ¡°Commander,¡± he said, his voice gravelly. ¡°I was told you¡¯ve taken over command. We need orders.¡± Orders. Of course. She was in charge now. The thought made her stomach churn. She sat up straighter, forcing herself to meet Davor¡¯s gaze. ¡°How are the men?¡± she asked, her voice steadier than she felt. ¡°Alive,¡± Davor replied bluntly. ¡°Most of ¡®em, anyway. What¡¯s left of ¡®em.¡± He scratched his beard, glancing at the map on the table. ¡°We¡¯ve got about two hundred fit for duty, give or take. Another fifty too injured to fight, but not bad enough to need the mercy blade. The rest...¡± His voice trailed off, but Lyanna didn¡¯t need him to finish. She knew what he meant. Her mind raced, trying to recall the numbers they¡¯d started with before the battle. Almost a thousand soldiers had marched under her banner. And now? Less than a quarter remained. The weight of that failure pressed down on her like a millstone. She had made the calls. She had issued the orders. And now those lives were gone, snuffed out like so many candles. ¡°Supplies?¡± she asked, trying to push through the fog of despair clouding her thoughts. ¡°The Supply Corps sent enough to last a week, maybe two,¡± Davor said. ¡°But the supply lines¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªare unreliable,¡± Lyanna finished for him, echoing Seren¡¯s words. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the table. ¡°We¡¯ll need to set up a proper camp. Fortify our position, tend to the wounded, and salvage what we can from the battlefield. The men deserve rest before we march again.¡± Davor nodded approvingly, though his expression remained grim. ¡°Aye, Commander. I¡¯ll see it done.¡± He turned to leave, but Lyanna stopped him with a question that had been gnawing at her since Seren¡¯s departure. ¡°Davor,¡± she said quietly. ¡°How long have you served in the Queen¡¯s army?¡± The captain paused, turning back to face her. ¡°Thirty years, give or take.¡± ¡°And in that time, have you ever seen beasts like these? Have you ever heard of Ruin Beasts leading a tide?¡± Davor¡¯s scowl deepened, and he shook his head. ¡°No, Commander. Never. The ones we faced two nights ago were bad enough, but what if the messengers say about Kandria¡­¡± He trailed off, his eyes shadowed. ¡°If those beasts are stronger than what we saw here, then the gods themselves will need to step in.¡± Lyanna swallowed hard, nodding. ¡°Thank you, Captain. Dismissed.¡± Davor bowed again and left the tent, the flap swaying behind him. Lyanna stared at the map on the table, her eyes tracing the lines and markings that represented the Burnt Sea, the dense forests, and the long, perilous road to Kandria. It was a road she would have to march. A road she might not survive. Chapter 20: Weights That Crush the Strong Chapter 20: Weights That Crush the Strong The casualty lists were a cruel companion. Lyanna scanned the parchment under the dim glow of the tent¡¯s lantern, its flickering light casting jagged shadows on the walls. Her fingers tracing the names as if their absence from this world needed more proof. The inked words blurred under her scrutiny, every letter a silent eulogy. Her hand gripped Ember¡¯s hilt, drawing comfort, even if her twin swords had felt oddly distant lately. Grandmaster Aelric - Deceased. Grandmaster Feredal - Comatose. Prognosis grim. Fifty. Less than fifty Grandmasters in the entire kingdom, and two of them had been hers to command. Now, one lay in a grave, and the other might never wake. If Feredal succumbed, her house would be bereft of Grandmasters entirely. A blow from which her house might never recover. That would only matter, of course, if her parents survived. Her hands clenched as the thought slid in, unbidden. If they fell, it would be up to her to carry the name of Mirrorguard. To stand alone. The image of the empty halls of her ancestral home chilled her to the bone. Her mother¡¯s absence, her father¡¯s booming laughter silenced forever. No allies. No family. Nothing. Alone. Lyanna shivered and pushed the thought away, forcing her focus back to the list. Duty was a cruel salve, but it worked. Being alone, truly alone, was a shadow she dared not contemplate for long. The thought lingered, though, in the back of her mind like a predator waiting for her guard to drop. She was still drowning in the names when the flap of her tent parted. A messenger entered, their cloak bearing the Queen¡¯s sigil¡ªa stark silver serpent entwined with a spear. The scroll they carried gleamed with runes, the Queen¡¯s cipher etched into its surface. ¡°Lady Lyanna,¡± the messenger said, bowing as they handed her the missive. ¡°This is addressed to Lord Alric.¡± Her heart prickled with curiosity, a sensation she quickly smothered. The cipher was unique to each house, meant to ensure only the intended recipient and the Queen could decipher the message. It also ensured that no one, not even the most clever minds, could indulge their curiosity without consequence. Even so, the Queen¡¯s name carried a gravity that set her mind spinning. ¡°Wait here,¡± Lyanna said, her voice clipped. She set the scroll down on her table and reached for parchment and a quill. If Alric could receive a message from the Queen, so could she. Her own letter was quick but deliberate, encoded with the cipher that bound her house to the crown. The heart of her request was simple: confirmation of Soren¡¯s orders. Dragon riders were noble by design¡ªor so the gods claimed¡ªbut their moral compasses often twisted under pressure. A rider¡¯s vision of ¡°right¡± could shift dangerously. And the rest of his house? They¡¯d sell their souls to manipulate him. It was not uncommon for orders intercepted and twisted into tools for their house¡¯s ambition. She added a second request, almost as an afterthought, for griffin riders. A long shot, but their aerial agility would be invaluable. The Queen would likely refuse, but Lyanna had learned to press where she could. When the messenger departed with her reply, she turned to the next task¡ªa small stack of reports on candidates to fill the gaps in her camp aides. They were short by two, and while the process of vetting was usually exhaustive, Lyanna lacked the luxury of time. She worked through the reports mechanically, circling names, jotting notes in the margins. A few met her standards¡ªbarely. The interviews passed in a blur of forced smiles and stilted conversations. By the time the last one left, her voice was hoarse, her patience frayed. Lyanna resisted the pull of her own thoughts by reaching for the scout and messenger reports. She spread them across the table, their conflicting accounts forming a chaotic patchwork. Monsters moved in the dark¡ªwhere, exactly, was the question. Her quill danced across the surface as she marked the likely paths of monster movements.This, at least, was tangible. Monsters followed patterns. People didn¡¯t. Yet, as she delved deeper into her analysis, a growing sense of certainty began to take root within her: the trolls, it seemed, were the ones orchestrating the movements of the monsters. Time slipped away unnoticed. A thief stealing away the hours. ¡°Gods, you look worse than I feel.¡± The voice startled her. Lyanna looked up to find Alric standing in the entrance, his face pale and drawn, eyes shadowed like bruises. He sank into the chair opposite her, his exhaustion palpable. ¡°You look horrible,¡± she remarked, sitting back and stretching her aching shoulders. Alric laughed, a dry and humorless sound. ¡°Mara, one of the cooks, told me to tell you to eat. Something about how you¡¯re scaring the rest of the staff.¡± Lyanna blinked. ¡°Is it sundown?¡± ¡°Barely. Not that it matters due to all four moons being full and all this blasted ash. Light¡¯s the same no matter the hour.¡± Alric gestured to the table. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. She flicked the Queen¡¯s scroll toward him, her quill tapping on the tabletop. ¡°From the Queen. Sent for you.¡± Alric¡¯s expression darkened, but he said nothing as he took the scroll. Lyanna rose, muttering something about dinner, and left him to his thoughts. When she returned, the air in the tent was heavy. Alric sat slumped at the table, his head cradled in his hands. Lyanna coughed, startling him upright. ¡°Everything all right?¡± she asked, her tone even, though her eyes lingered on his disheveled state. Alric rubbed his temples, sighing deeply. ¡°Fine.¡± Lyanna raised an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± His words were sharp, but they carried the weight of a lie. He leaned back, exhaling slowly. ¡°The Queen stopped my cousins from taking my place as heir. But even if I return, my chances of holding my claim are...¡± He trailed off, his eyes distant. ¡°Let¡¯s just say they¡¯re slim.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Lyanna prodded, sensing the answer would be bitter. ¡°My cousin. Ember Rider. Dragon and all.¡± Alric¡¯s lips curled in a bitter smile. ¡°What am I compared to that?¡± Lyanna didn¡¯t respond immediately. Instead, she sat down, resuming her work on the reports without looking at him. After a moment, she spoke, her voice quiet but firm. ¡°You survive. That¡¯s what you are. More than most can say.¡± Alric said nothing, but his gaze lingered on her as she returned to her maps, each mark a step further from despair. Alric leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table, his fingers steepled under his chin. The flickering lantern light exaggerated the lines of exhaustion on his face, but his voice cut through the heavy silence like a blade. ¡°Where¡¯s your sister, anyway? Champion Karina should¡¯ve been back by now.¡± Lyanna froze. Her breath caught in her throat, and her hands trembled as she attempted to focus on the parchment before her. Her quill, steady a moment ago, now hovered awkwardly above the map, ink pooling on the edge of a marked road. When she didn¡¯t respond, Alric¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Lyanna?¡± His tone softened, but the damage had been done. His sharp eyes caught the way her jaw tightened, the way her posture stiffened like a bowstring. His own expression shifted, regret flickering across his features. ¡°Ah. Damn it. I didn¡¯t know¡ª¡± ¡°She¡¯s dead.¡± Lyanna¡¯s voice was flat, a monotone, but it carried the weight of a world shattered. She forced the words out quickly, as though saying them faster might dull the pain. ¡°Karina and Pyrope. Two days ago.¡± The silence that followed was unbearable, a heavy, suffocating thing that pressed down on the tent. Lyanna didn¡¯t dare meet Alric¡¯s gaze, her eyes fixed on the map. A monster¡¯s trail she¡¯d traced earlier seemed almost mocking now, a mess of ink she could no longer interpret. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Lyanna,¡± Alric finally said, his voice low. She waved him off with a sharp motion, though the tears she¡¯d been fighting now threatened to spill. ¡°Don¡¯t. Just¡­ don¡¯t.¡± Her words trembled with anger, though she didn¡¯t know who it was directed at¡ªAlric, herself, or the gods who¡¯d stolen everything from her. ¡°What¡¯s done is done.¡± The quill in her hand snapped as she clenched her fist, and she hissed in frustration. Ink spattered across the map, black smudges marring the careful marks she¡¯d made. She threw the broken quill aside and grabbed another from atop the table, her movements brisk, almost frantic. ¡°Lyanna, maybe¡ª¡± ¡°I said drop it!¡± she snapped, her voice cracking. Lyanna bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. She inhaled sharply, forcing the emotions into a box she couldn¡¯t afford to open. Not with the weight of command bearing down on her like a crushing tide. ¡°I don¡¯t need your sympathy,¡± she said, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. She hated how weak she sounded, how exposed. Alric hesitated but finally nodded, sensing her fragility and stepping back. He cleared his throat awkwardly, as if trying to dispel the tension. ¡°Why are we making camp here? Shouldn¡¯t we be heading home?¡± Lyanna exhaled slowly, dragging her focus back to the maps. The question offered a lifeline¡ªsomething tangible, something to distract her from the suffocating grief clawing at her insides. She straightened her spine, her voice steadying as she answered. ¡°Warden Soren¡¯s orders. He¡¯s gone to Kandria. The city¡¯s under siege. Two Ruin Beasts are leading the tide, and the defenses are crumbling. He¡¯s left me in command. My task is to clear the woods of monsters and march to Kandria, reclaiming overrun towns along the way.¡± Alric frowned. ¡°Kandria¡¯s falling? The Queen must¡¯ve sent reinforcements already.¡± ¡°She has.¡± Lyanna¡¯s tone was bitter. ¡°Five riders and ten corps. Because the rest of the army is tied up elsewhere. Troll borders, elven borders, dwarven alliances¡­¡± ¡°And what about aerial support?¡± Alric pressed. ¡°No griffins?¡± Lyanna¡¯s hands stilled, her quill hovering over the map. ¡°None. The Queen has given me no time limit, but we¡¯re expected to make do with what we have. Which is less than three hundred soldiers, most of whom can barely stand after the last battle.¡± The weight of her words hung between them. Alric rubbed his temples, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. ¡°And you¡¯re just¡­ going along with this?¡± he asked after a moment, his gaze searching hers. ¡°You know it¡¯s suicide, right? Marching to Kandria with a broken army?¡± Lyanna¡¯s eyes snapped up to meet his, and the fire in her gaze silenced him. ¡°What choice do I have?¡± she demanded, her voice rising. ¡°The Queen¡¯s command is absolute. I don¡¯t get to choose my battles, Alric. We follow the Queen¡¯s orders. Or we get to taste Aurora¡¯s fire.¡± She slumped back in her chair, her hands falling limply to her lap. ¡°Besides,¡± she added quietly, ¡°what¡¯s the alternative? Abandon the towns? Let people under my family¡¯s banner die? Let the monsters spread unchecked?¡± Alric didn¡¯t respond immediately. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together as he studied her. ¡°You¡¯re stronger than you look, Lyanna,¡± he said at last. ¡°But even the strongest trees snap under enough weight.¡± She looked away, her jaw tightening. ¡°If I break, I break,¡± she said simply. ¡°But I¡¯ll do it on my terms.¡± The silence returned, but it was different this time¡ªless oppressive, more contemplative. Alric stood, stretching his arms above his head, before giving her a small, tired smile. ¡°Well, if we¡¯re marching to our deaths, I suppose I¡¯d better make myself useful. Let me know where you need me.¡± Lyanna didn¡¯t look up, but a faint smile ghosted across her lips. ¡°I will.¡± As he left the tent, Lyanna turned back to the map, her mind racing. The weight of her sister¡¯s shadow pressed down on her, but she refused to let it crush her. There was too much to do, too many lives depending on her. And yet, in the quiet moments between tasks, the grief would creep in. Memories of Karina¡¯s laughter, of Pyrope¡¯s warmth, of a life that now felt so distant. She would push it away, bury it deep, and focus on the work before her. Because if she stopped¡ªif she let herself feel the full weight of her loss¡ªshe feared she might never stand again. Chapter 21: The Forge of Self Chapter 21: The Forge of Self The morning broke sluggishly over the forest, casting pale beams of light that filtered through the dense canopy. Kael stirred beneath his makeshift shelter, the smoky remnants of his fire clinging to his clothes and skin. His muscles ached from the previous day¡¯s exertions, a dull, constant throb that had become as familiar as the beat of his heart. No, their heart. His gaze drifted to the dragon eggs, nestled carefully beside him on a bed of moss and cloth. The one he had bonded to had taken on a coppery hue that was almost alive, its surface catching the light and refracting it in strange patterns. More cracks had spidered across its shell overnight, and he could feel the life within it thrumming¡ªa faint but insistent pulse that echoed in his veins. Kael spent the morning as he always did, focused on the mundane tasks that kept him alive. The remnants of last night¡¯s meal¡ªstale rations that he had taken from Greenhaven. His stomach churned at the thought of eating it, but he forced himself to take a few bites. Hunger wasn¡¯t a choice out here. He longed to eat the meat that he had salted and stored for the dragon when it hatched. The temptation to open the reed baskets he had made, and take a bit of that meat followed him as he left the camp. He stalked a hare through the underbrush, his crossbow steady. The forest was alive with danger, its secrets whispered in the rustle of leaves and the low, guttural growls that came from just out of sight. Kael¡¯s footsteps were soundless on the leaf-strewn ground, his ears attuned to every creak of branches above. He moved like prey, but his mind was that of a predator, cataloging threats, memorizing their patterns. When the hare bolted, Kael loosed the bolt. It struck true, piercing the creature¡¯s side. As he crouched over the kill, the dragon¡¯s presence stirred faintly again, like an ember flaring in the back of his mind. Carrying the hare back to his camp, Kael felt the oppressive weight of the forest. The monsters were a constant shadow. He¡¯d seen one the other day: a hulking, many-eyed creature with claws that could tear through trees. He had hidden, trembling, until it passed. The thought of facing such beasts sent a chill down his spine, but it also fueled his determination. I need to be stronger. If not for me, then for you. After gutting and roasting the hare, so that it could be preserved, Kael retrieved his sword and moved to the clearing. The blade, though crude and rusted, felt heavier in his hands than it should have. He practiced the forms his father had drilled into him. Step. Swing. Parry. The movements were ingrained in muscle memory, but they felt hollow, mechanical. His father¡¯s voice haunted him as he worked. ¡°Again! Slower! You¡¯re fighting like a damned drunkard!¡± Kael remembered the sting of the cane across his back when he faltered, the sneer in the old man¡¯s voice when he failed. He gritted his teeth and swung harder, faster, each motion fueled by anger. The rusted blade hissed through the air, biting into the bark of a tree. ¡°You¡¯ll die before you learn to fight,¡± his father had said once, his voice cold as winter steel. Kael had hated him for it. But now, as sweat poured down his face and his arms ached from the effort, he couldn¡¯t deny that those lessons had kept him alive. Hate and gratitude warred within him. He swung again, harder this time. The blade caught on the tree¡¯s bark and lodged there, quivering. Kael released it and staggered back, panting. His reflection stared at him from the blade¡¯s jagged edge, his eyes sunken and hollow. What have I become? When Kael finally gathered himself, he dug through his pack, retrieving the worn leather-bound Codex. Its pages were worn from use, ink smeared from countless hours Kael had spent pouring over the basics, scratching them, memorizing their forms until they were burned into his mind. The runes were his refuge, a tether to the life he¡¯d once dreamed of¡ªthe life that now felt as distant as the stars. But now he felt he was ready to open the next and final chapter of the Codex. The subrunes. He ran a calloused finger along the edge of the page, his breath steady as he absorbed every detail. The subrunes weren¡¯t just modifications¡ªthey were bridges. A way to channel and reshape the raw power of the base runes. They could alter intent, amplify strength, or twist the effects of magic into entirely new forms. Mastery of these would have been his ticket to the Queen¡¯s Rune Academy, back when such dreams still mattered. But those doors were closed now. His reasons for learning had changed. Kael set the Codex aside and grabbed his knife. Its blade was dull, the edges chipped from weeks of abuse, but it would serve. It had to. He began with the simplest form. A base rune of water¡ªone he had carved a thousand times before. The knife bit into the bark, curling shavings away as he worked with meticulous care. The lines had to be precise, the flow of the rune uninterrupted, or the magic would falter. When the symbol was finished, Kael took a steadying breath and added the first subrune, a small arc at the rune¡¯s base. He pressed his palm to the bark and channeled a single mote of essence. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a soft hiss, a spurt of water erupted from the ground. It was small, barely enough to fill a cupped hand, but it was real. Kael flinched, startled, and then froze as the realization sank in. It worked. His pulse quickened, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he smiled¡ªa faint, fleeting curve of his lips. Not out of joy, but out of something deeper. Progress. But it wasn¡¯t enough. He scraped away the subrune with the tip of his knife and added a second one, a twisting line that arched upward. The modification was more intricate, and Kael¡¯s hand trembled as he etched it into place. When he finished, he placed his hand against the bark once more, closing his eyes to steady his breathing. The hum of energy returned, sharper this time, more insistent. The spurt of water erupted again, but now it twisted upward, forming a narrow, arcing stream that hung in the air like a silver ribbon before splashing back to the ground. Kael watched it, transfixed. He had spent years scratching runes into dirt and stone, desperate to understand their secrets. And now, with the Codex and his own determination, he was starting to grasp the truth of them. He worked for hours, the forest around him fading into the periphery as he sank deeper into his task. Bark and stone became his canvas, his dagger carving out symbols that pulsed with faint, flickering power. He tested each modification, learning through trial and error. Some combinations failed spectacularly¡ªa carved rune burst into flame, charring his fingertips¡ªbut others worked, each success building on the last. At one point, he carved a series of runes into the side of a tree, watching as water spiraled upward before cascading down like rain. It was beautiful in its simplicity, a fleeting reminder of the world he¡¯d once wanted to be part of. He felt the dragon stirring, its presence in the back of his mind. Are you watching? he asked, the question echoing through the mental landscape they shared. What he received in response wasn¡¯t words or images, not quite. Just... something. By the time Kael paused, his hands were raw, his fingertips stained with dirt and flecks of blood. He leaned back against the tree, his breath shallow as he stared at the results of his labor. Pieces of bark and stone were scattered around him, each one etched with the intricate shapes of runes and subrunes. The clearing was littered with faint traces of magic¡ªpools of water, charred patches of earth, and a jagged pillar of stone that jutted upward like a broken tooth. It wasn¡¯t much. But it was his. Kael picked up one of the stones, turning it over in his hands. The rune carved into its surface was a protective ward, modified with a series of subrunes designed to amplify its strength. He could feel the faint hum of energy within it, like the distant echo of a storm. It wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªnowhere near¡ªbut it was enough to remind him of what he was capable of.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the Queen¡¯s Rune Academy. He had spent years dreaming of its halls, of the scholars and mentors who could have guided him. That dream was gone now, buried beneath the ashes of Greenhaven. But the passion remained. The drive to learn, to create, to master. Kael¡¯s gaze shifted to the egg, resting in the shade of a nearby tree. Its copper surface gleamed faintly in the dappled light, the cracks along its shell more pronounced now. Even from this distance he could feel the dragon¡¯s heartbeat, which was stronger than ever, a steady rhythm that pulsed in time with his own. He reached out, fingers trembling¡ªnot from fear, but from awe. That was when he heard it. A low, guttural growl rippled through the stillness of the forest, vibrating the very air around him. His body tensed, every instinct sharpened. The warmth of the egg was forgotten as Kael¡¯s hand moved instinctively toward his dagger. His eyes snapped toward the sound, scanning the treeline and shadows beyond. Then he saw it. Perched atop the boulders that concealed his camp from the outside world was a hulking, wolf-like creature, its red eyes glowing like twin embers in the twilight. Its matted black fur hung in clumps, patches of raw, scarred flesh visible beneath. Muscles rippled grotesquely under its misshapen frame, and thick saliva dripped from its fangs, sizzling when it hit the damp stone. The smell of rot filled the air, and Kael¡¯s stomach churned. Too late. I should have noticed sooner. The wolf snarled, its lips peeling back to reveal jagged teeth stained yellow and brown. Kael¡¯s grip on his dagger tightened as he tried to calculate his options. His sword lay just beyond the fire, too far to reach without leaving himself vulnerable. The wolf¡¯s claws scratched against the rock as it shifted, preparing to leap. Kael knew he had moments, at most. The creature sprang forward, a blur of muscle, teeth, and rage. It slammed into the invisible barrier of the ward stone Kael had placed earlier. The air shimmered with faint golden light as the ward flared to life. For the briefest of moments, the creature was held at bay, but the ward flickered and shattered as the stone emptied its pitiful essence pool. But it was enough time. Kael grabbed a sturdy log from the edge of the firepit and swung it in desperation as the wolf closed the distance. The impact sent a shockwave up his arms, but it was like hitting a wall of solid stone. The wolf¡¯s charge threw him backward, the log splintering in his grip. Kael¡¯s back slammed into a tree with a sickening thud, and pain exploded across his ribs, sharp and unforgiving. His vision blurred for a heartbeat as he struggled to breathe. ¡°Damn it,¡± he hissed, forcing himself to stand. Every movement was agony, but he couldn¡¯t afford to stay down. The wolf was already circling him, its glowing eyes locked on his every move, its muscles coiling for another attack. Kael backed toward the fire, his dagger raised. His thoughts raced, searching for an opening. The beast prowled, its snarls low and menacing. Each step it took brought it closer, its claws gouging deep into the earth. Kael¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, his every instinct screaming at him to flee, but there was nowhere to run. Then his eyes fell on his sword. The rusted blade lay just beyond the fire, faintly reflecting the flickering flames. If he could reach it¡­ The wolf lunged, its jaws snapping at empty air as Kael dove to the side. His body hit the ground hard, but he rolled with the momentum, coming to his feet near the fire. With a swift motion, he grabbed the hilt of his sword, the familiar weight grounding him. ¡°Come on,¡± he growled, his voice low and steady. I can¡¯t afford to die here. Not now. The wolf hesitated for a fraction of a second, its glowing eyes narrowing. Then it charged again, faster than Kael expected. He barely had time to raise his sword as the creature¡¯s claws slashed toward him. The rusted blade caught the attack, but the force sent Kael stumbling backward, his boots skidding across the dirt. He twisted, swinging his sword in a desperate arc. The blade struck the wolf¡¯s side, but its hide was tougher than leather. The attack left only a shallow wound, and the creature howled in fury. Kael grimaced, his arms trembling from the effort. This thing is faster than me. Stronger, too. The wolf lunged again, its jaws snapping dangerously close to Kael¡¯s throat. He dodged, his body reacting on instinct. The creature¡¯s claws tore through his shirt, leaving shallow cuts across his chest and arms. Kael ignored the sting of pain, his focus unbroken. The wolf growled, circling him once more. Kael tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white. His mind raced, searching for a way to end this. He couldn¡¯t outlast the creature¡ªit was only a matter of time before his strength gave out. As the wolf lunged again, Kael moved to meet it. This time, he didn¡¯t swing wildly. Instead, he stepped into the attack, angling his blade with precision. The sword bit deep into the wolf¡¯s exposed flank, the force of the strike driving the creature back. It howled, a sound that sent chills down Kael¡¯s spine. Blood oozed from the wound, staining the ground beneath them. It wasn¡¯t enough. Kael¡¯s muscles burned, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The wolf¡¯s red eyes flared with renewed fury, and Kael knew the next attack would be the last¡ªone way or another. Then he felt it. A surge of warmth flooded his chest, spreading through his limbs like fire. The dragon¡¯s presence, faint but undeniable, filled his thoughts. The whispers he had felt before were no longer distant¡ªthey were sharp, clear, and commanding. Strike. Now. Kael didn¡¯t hesitate. As the wolf lunged, he stepped forward, raising his sword high. The creature¡¯s jaws snapped, inches from his face, but Kael drove the blade downward with every ounce of strength he had left. The rusted steel pierced the wolf¡¯s chest, sinking deep into its heart. The wolf let out a strangled snarl, its glowing eyes dimming as the life drained from its body. It collapsed in a heap, its massive form lying motionless at Kael¡¯s feet. Kael fell to his knees, his body trembling with exhaustion. His hands were slick with blood¡ªhis own and the wolf¡¯s¡ªand every muscle in his body ached. He gasped for air, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, leaving only pain and weariness in its wake.
That night, Kael lay by the fire, the warmth of the flickering flames only a distant comfort against the throbbing pain that lanced through his body. His ribs ached with every breath, his arms stung where the wolf¡¯s claws had raked across his skin, and his legs trembled from the brutal exertion of the fight. Yet, despite the physical toll, his mind wandered far from the present moment. His thoughts were no longer his own; they were filled with the growing presence of the dragon. The connection, which had once felt distant and fleeting, had become undeniable, an overwhelming sensation that seeped into every corner of his consciousness. His breath slowed as he closed his eyes, feeling the pull of something ancient, powerful, and profound. The world around him began to blur, the crackling of the fire dimming until it was nothing but a murmur in the background. Then, like the stir of wind before a storm, the visions began. At first, they were chaotic¡ªlike fragments of a dream scattered and out of reach. He saw wings, vast and leathery, slicing through storm clouds, parting the dark skies as lightning crackled around them. The sheer size of the wings overwhelmed him, like an unstoppable force, cutting through the very air with power and purpose. He felt the force of the wings as they beat, stirring the clouds into a frenzy, a reminder of the dragon''s immense power, the primal energy that lay dormant within it. Flames erupted, burning across endless fields of ash, roaring through the night as they consumed everything in their path. The fire was wild and untamed, yet there was something controlled about it, a deep, focused hunger that seemed to resonate with Kael''s own. He could feel the heat, the searing intensity of it, not in his body, but in his soul¡ªlike the fire was alive, seeking, demanding, waiting for its chance to devour. The dragon¡¯s hunger. Then, there was the sky¡ªthe endless sky, vast and infinite, stretching far beyond what Kael could comprehend. He saw stars, bright pinpricks of light scattered across the darkness, endless in their reach. But more than that, he felt the dragon¡¯s presence in the sky¡ªits dominion over the heavens, its wings cutting through the expanse, claiming it as its own. It was free, untethered by anything on the earth below. It was the ruler of both fire and air, unbound and unchallenged. In the midst of the maelstrom of fire, shadow, and flight, Kael felt something else. A whisper, like a faint thread of emotion, tugging at the edges of his mind. Trust. It wasn¡¯t a word, not something he heard, but something he felt deep within his chest. The dragon was not just a creature of fire and fury¡ªit was a being of wisdom, of ancient understanding, and it had reached out to him. He didn¡¯t know how he knew, but the trust was clear. The dragon trusted him. Kael inhaled sharply, the breath of the dragon filling his lungs. It was an odd sensation¡ªcomforting yet overwhelming. For the first time, he felt something more than just the weight of his own isolation. There was a presence beside him, within him, watching with him, feeling with him. The connection was no longer a distant echo¡ªit was real, and it was alive. His thoughts swirled with the visions, with the dragon¡¯s strength and hunger, with its fierce independence, but above all, with the trust it had placed in him. In that moment, Kael understood that he was not alone. He was not just some boy chasing dreams of glory and vindication. He was a part of something greater¡ªsomething worth hoping for. The visions began to fade, the storm, the flames, and the endless sky retreating into the depths of his consciousness. But the trust remained. Kael opened his eyes slowly, the firelight dancing across his face. His body ached, but his heart felt lighter. The night was still, the forest silent around him. Tomorrow would bring more trials, more monsters, more challenges¡ªbut tonight, Kael allowed himself to rest. The dragon¡¯s presence was with him, a silent guardian in his mind, and with it came a new sense of purpose. He was no longer alone in this fight. Together, they would face whatever came next. And as he drifted into an uneasy sleep, the dragon¡¯s heartbeat echoed in the back of his mind, a steady reminder of what awaited them both. Chapter 22: Ashes to the Moons Chapter 22: Ashes to the Moons The stage groaned beneath Lyanna¡¯s boots, its wooden planks as weary as the soldiers gathered before her. Above, the wind tore through the camp, its icy fingers raking the edges of tents and stirring the smoke from smoldering cookfires. Lyanna stood at the edge of the platform, clutching a parchment in one hand. Her unmangled knuckles shone white, her grip unyielding as the speech she had labored over trembled in her grasp¡ªnot from the breeze, but from the faint tremor of her fingers. Control yourself, she thought. There is no room for weakness, not here, not now. Her other mangled hand, instinctively sought the hilt of Scarlet. As her three fingers wrapped around the familiar yet unfamiliar leather grip, she felt a surge of confidence flow through her. Lyanna could almost hear Scarlet reassuring her. She knew, with a certainty that defied logic, that Scarlet would see her through this night as well. The camp sprawled out before her, a patchwork of tents and hastily reinforced barriers. Lanterns swayed, their light casting shifting shadows over the soldiers as they filed into ranks. Aides barked orders to bring order to the gathering, their voices hoarse but unyielding. The men and women in the crowd carried the weight of exhaustion, faces smudged with grime and despair, but their eyes burned with a shared resolve. They had survived too much to falter now. And yet, not all were present. Lyanna¡¯s gaze drifted toward the far end of the camp, where the woods stretched dark and endless beyond the palisade walls. Alric and his party had not yet returned. It was foolish to feel relief at their absence. Their work¡ªclearing the woods of the nightmare creatures¡ªwas necessary and unrelenting. Yet a selfish part of her felt spared by the delay. If they weren¡¯t here, she could put off stepping onto that stage just a moment longer. She tightened her grip on the parchment in her hand. The speech she had spent the long hours of the night crafting felt alien to her now, its words hollow and insincere. She had rewritten it twice, the candle burning low beside her, trying to summon a voice that could inspire those who had fought and bled under her command. The soldiers deserved that much, at least. She reread the words she had written. ¡°We bleed for each other. We die for each other. And for those sacrifices, we endure.¡± The sentiment felt hollow now. What right do I have to speak of sacrifice, after so much blood had been spilled under my command? Her other hand dropped to her side, brushing against the smaller folded paper tucked into her belt. It felt heavier than the speech in her hand, though it was no more than a slip of brittle parchment. On it, she had written the names that haunted her¡ªthe names that had followed her from the ashen dunes of the Burnt Sea to this fractured camp. Pyrope. Karina. Eda. And one name more: Lyanna. The name was hers, but it wasn¡¯t. The young girl who had stood at the edge of the Burnt Sea, craving glory and chasing triumph, had perished in the chaos of fire and steel. She had been consumed by the Skybreaker¡¯s inferno, drowned beneath the black tide of orcish steel, swallowed whole by the monsters that tore at the edges of their kingdom. What remained was something quieter, harder¡ªa blade dulled by use, but no less deadly. Movement in the crowd broke her reverie. A cluster of soldiers shifted aside, making way for a battered group emerging from the woods. Alric¡¯s party. Their armor was smeared with dark ichor, their faces streaked with grime and blood, but they stood tall, carrying themselves with a weary determination. Alric, his forehead wrapped in a bloodied strip of cloth, caught her gaze as he took his place at the back of the assembly. He nodded once, a gesture of solidarity. Lyanna exhaled slowly. She couldn¡¯t wait any longer. Steeling herself, she handed her speech to a nearby aide. The young woman took it with respectful nod. Lyanna stepped onto the center of the stage, the planks creaking beneath her weight, and turned to face the soldiers. The camp fell silent, the restless murmurs giving way to a heavy stillness. Lantern light flickered over the assembly, throwing their weary faces into sharp relief. Her voice cut through the silence, brittle at first but gaining strength with each word. ¡°Brothers. Sisters. Survivors.¡± Her voice, though brittle at first, carried through the stillness. She took a step forward, her boots steady on the groaning boards. ¡°That is what you are. Survivors.¡± The word lingered in the air, a spark catching tinder. Soldiers straightened their shoulders; some lifted their chins, others let out breath they hadn¡¯t realized they were holding. Lyanna¡¯s gaze swept over them, seeing the grief etched into their features, the weariness that clung to their frames. ¡°Three days ago, we stood at the edge of annihilation. The orcish hordes came upon us with their war cries and their machines, the sky itself split open by fire. The ground burned, the air choked with ash, and still, we fought. Not for glory, not for riches¡ªbut because we had no choice. Because to retreat was to surrender not just our lives, but our future.¡± She paused, her voice faltering briefly under the weight of her words. ¡°And we prevailed.¡± A murmur rippled through the assembly¡ªquiet, but charged. It wasn¡¯t jubilation; it was something heavier. The acknowledgment of what they had endured and what they had survived. ¡°But survival has its price,¡± Lyanna continued, her tone softer. ¡°We paid for every inch of ground in blood. For every blow we struck, we lost a comrade beside us. Their screams echo in our ears. Their faces haunt our dreams. And now, those of us who remain¡ªthose of us who carry their memories¡ªwe stand together.¡± She reached for the folded parchment at her side, holding it up so the crowd could see. ¡°On this, I have written the names of those I have lost. Pyrope. Karina. Eda.¡± She hesitated, her voice catching in her throat. ¡°And one more. Lyanna.¡± ¡°I write my own name because I, too, have died. The Lyanna who stood here days ago, filled with fire and hubris, is gone. She died so that I might stand here before you now¡ªnot as a commander seeking glory, but as one of you. As a survivor.¡± Lyanna drew a deep breath, steadying herself. ¡°Tonight, we honor the dead. But we also honor the living. Look to the person beside you. That is who you fight for. That is who you bleed for. And when the time comes, that is who you will die for.¡± ¡°But we will not fall quietly. We will not surrender to the darkness that seeks to consume us. We are the shield against the tide. And for every life lost, we will make the enemy pay a hundredfold.¡± She stepped back, her hand trembling as she held the parchment to her chest. The two remaining priests of Arthor stepped forward, their hands glowing with soft, golden light. The priests moved with solemn reverence, their outstretched hands a gentle invitation to the ritual. One by one, the soldiers produced their parchments, each bearing the names of the fallen, etched in ink that seemed to shimmer in the fading light. As the priests touched the pages, a soft golden glow ignited them, casting a warm radiance across the faces of the mourners. Lyanna watched, transfixed, as the soldiers raised their burning parchments to the sky. The flames danced upon the paper, but instead of consuming it, they lifted it, carrying it upward on wispy currents of air towards the four moons that hung low in the horizon. She held her own paper out to the priest, his touch warm and comforting. The flame that sparked from his hand was gentle, almost reverent, as if the very gods themselves were igniting the fire. As her paper caught fire, she lifted it above her head, watching in awe as it floated away, carried on invisible currents towards the celestial bodies.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. The sky filled with fireflies of light, the names of the dead rising into the heavens where Arthor¡¯s protection would guard them. The soldiers watched in silence, their faces illuminated by the golden glow, their eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and reverence. The air was heavy with the weight of their collective grief, yet there was a sense of peace, of release, that settled over the gathering. Lyanna¡¯s voice joined the murmured prayer that rose like a tide, a gentle swell of sound. ¡°We release the names of the fallen to the night sky, that they may be inscribed upon the celestial scrolls, and their memory be forever enshrined in the hearts of the gods.¡± As the last ember disappeared into the darkness, Lyanna closed her eyes, the ache in her heart still palpable, but tempered by the sense of peace that had settled over her. She took a deep breath, the cool night air filling her lungs, and let the stillness of the moment wash over her. Lyanna lingered in the moment as the embers faded, her hands resting on the rough grain of the stage¡¯s railing. The ritual¡¯s glow still warmed her skin, but the chill of duty pressed against her back like a blade. She turned, climbing back to the center of the platform. Her boots rang hollow against the planks, the sound sharp against the weighted silence. The soldiers watched her, their breaths measured. They were waiting. They deserved the truth, no matter how bitter. She stepped back to the center of the stage, her boots firm against the creaking planks, and raised her arms to still the crowd. ¡°Listen to me,¡± she began, her voice low but steady. The camp seemed to lean closer, drawn by the intensity in her tone. ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. I know what you want. To go home. To see your families again, to sleep without fear of waking to the howl of some nightmare beast.¡± Her words hung in the chill air, and she let the silence linger just long enough for the ache to take root. ¡°But you¡¯ve heard the rumors. You know the truth as well as I do: home is not waiting for us. The queen herself has decreed it. Our task is here. The forest must be cleared. The towns we abandoned must be liberated. And Kandria¡­ Kandria is under siege.¡± The name struck like a hammer, and the murmurs began to rise¡ªlow at first, then building in frustration and anger. She expected it. Welcomed it, even. Lyanna raised a hand, her palm open as if to catch the tide of dissent. ¡°I won¡¯t lie to you. I won¡¯t dress this up in fine words. There are no reserves coming to relieve us. No reinforcements to swell our ranks. Normally, Valior¡¯s armies would have the strength to reinforce Kandria and send aid. But the trolls to the east and the elves in the south are building their armies, preparing for invasion. Every soldier we can spare is already committed to holding those lines. Our brethren, the dwarves, stand with us now, facing the trolls and the elves.¡± The murmuring surged again, frustration palpable in the air. Lyanna pressed on, her voice rising above the discord. ¡°The only reason we are not already overrun is because of our dwarven allies. Their legions fight alongside us, shoulder to shoulder, against this darkness. But they cannot fight for us. It is our duty to hold this ground. To reclaim our homes. To drive back the tide of beasts that threatens to consume everything we hold dear.¡± The protests didn¡¯t cease entirely, but they ebbed, giving way to a heavy, sullen silence. Lyanna let her gaze sweep over the soldiers. Their exhaustion, their anger¡ªthey were justified. She felt them keenly. But she could not let them give in to despair. ¡°Do you know the story of Roderic Valior?¡± she asked, her voice softening. ¡°Of the man who bore our kingdom¡¯s name, and his dragon, Valareth?¡± That name¡ªValareth¡ªhad a power of its own. The soldiers stilled, their expressions shifting as they turned their attention to her. ¡°Roderic Valior was no king when he stood against the first beast tide. He was a knight with no more than his dragon and his will. For three days and three nights, he fought. Alone. Against the horrors that sought to drown our lands in blood and darkness. He fought because there was no one else. Because to falter, to flee, was to consign everyone he loved to death.¡± She paused, letting the weight of the tale settle over them. ¡°And he did not falter. He did not flee. He broke the tide, and in doing so, he gave birth to a kingdom that has stood for centuries. A kingdom that bears his name.¡± Lyanna stepped forward, her gaze fierce, her voice sharp enough to cut through the frost-chilled air. ¡°We are his legacy. You are his legacy. And I will not let his name be tarnished. I will not let his sacrifice be in vain. We will stand as he stood, against the tide, and we will break it.¡± She pointed to the forest, its dark canopy stretching like a shroud over the horizon. ¡°The monsters that lurk in those woods? They are not invincible. They bleed as we bleed. They fall as we fall. But we will make them pay for every life they¡¯ve taken. A hundredfold. A thousandfold.¡± Her voice dropped, almost a whisper, yet it carried across the assembly like a solemn vow. ¡°You are soldiers of Valior. You are the shield against the tide. And when this war is over, when we¡¯ve carved a path to Kandria and torn the monsters from their nests, you will go home. Not as victims. But as victors.¡± The camp fell silent. Not the silence of despair, but something colder, harder. A silence of purpose. Of steel sharpening against steel. Lyanna felt it resonate in her chest, a pulse of shared determination that rippled through the assembly. She stepped back, her heart pounding, and let the stillness linger. One by one, the soldiers began to raise their fists, their voices rising in a grim, united roar. It wasn¡¯t the cry of triumph she had hoped for, but it was enough. Enough to carry them forward. As the noise faded, Lyanna turned her gaze toward the woods, her jaw tight. In her mind¡¯s eye, she saw the names again¡ªon the casualty lists, on blood-soaked ground, on the lips of the dying. They would be added to, she knew. But she would ensure that the list ended with Kandria. Lyanna lingered on the stage for a moment longer, her gaze fixed on the distant, shadow-choked woods. The roaring cheer of her soldiers had dwindled to murmurs, then silence. Only the crackle of dying fires and the restless rustle of the wind remained. She allowed herself a moment to catch her breath, her fingers brushing against the hilt of her swords. Drawing strength from Scarlet and Ember. The weight of her speech was still heavy in her chest, but so was the resolve she had drawn from the soldiers'' response. As long as they stand, so will I. She stepped down from the platform, her boots sinking slightly into the mud churned by hundreds of restless feet. Her aide, the young woman who had taken her discarded speech earlier, approached hesitantly. ¡°My lady,¡± she began, her voice tight with apprehension. ¡°The men¡­ they¡¯ll march, but there¡¯s unrest brewing. Some have started to question¡ª¡± ¡°Let them question,¡± Lyanna interrupted, her tone sharp but not unkind. ¡°It¡¯s better than silence. Let them doubt, let them grumble, but they will march.¡± The aide nodded, though her face betrayed her uncertainty. Lyanna sighed, softening her tone. ¡°Fear is a weapon, and it cuts both ways. The beasts out there¡ªthey thrive on it. But so do we, in our own way. The soldiers fear what waits in those woods, and they fear losing what little they have left. That fear will drive them forward, so long as we don¡¯t let it rule them.¡± The aide swallowed hard but nodded again, her resolve strengthening. ¡°I¡¯ll spread the word, my lady.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Lyanna¡¯s voice was firm, her nod curt. ¡°Tell the captains to double the watch. I want no fires near the treeline, and every scout back before dawn.¡± The aide hurried off, leaving Lyanna to her thoughts. She glanced once more at the forest, its dark silhouette against the horizon an oppressive reminder of what lay ahead. ¡°Lyanna.¡± The voice was gravelly but familiar. Alric stepped out of the shadows, his battered armor glinting faintly in the lantern light. The bloodied cloth around his forehead had darkened, but his posture was as straight as ever. ¡°A fine speech.¡± She arched an eyebrow, letting the faintest hint of a wry smile touch her lips. ¡°You didn¡¯t hold back,¡± he continued. ¡°They needed that.¡± She gave a short nod, her gaze still fixed on the distant forest. ¡°They needed more than I gave. But it¡¯s all I had.¡± Alric followed her gaze, his jaw tightening. ¡°The woods are worse than we thought. The deeper we go, the denser the infestation. These aren¡¯t just random attacks; something¡¯s driving them, forcing them out to inhabit the area¡¯s we clear. Breeding multiplying.¡± She turned to him sharply. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Alric hesitated, running a hand over the slight stubble that had grown. ¡°Tracks. Big ones. Bigger than anything we¡¯ve seen before. The scouts think it might be a Devourer.¡± Lyanna felt her stomach turn. A Devourer. The name alone was enough to curdle blood. Massive, unrelenting, and almost impossible to kill, the creatures were walking calamities, leaving destruction in their wake. The Devourers are creatures of the void, entering their world from the holes the Fallen One tore in reality to help her create the monsters as a way to challenge the stagnating world. If one was in the forest, it would explain the behavior of the smaller beasts¡ªthat could also mean that trolls might not have been behind the Beast Tide arriving early. ¡°How certain are they?¡± she asked, her voice low. ¡°Certain enough that they didn¡¯t want to get any closer,¡± Alric replied grimly. ¡°And I don¡¯t blame them.¡± Lyanna clenched her teeth, her mind racing. A Devourer would require every ounce of their strength and coordination to bring down. Even then, their chances were slim without heavier artillery¡ªor the aid of a dragon. And there were no dragons left to call upon. Not anymore. ¡°Does the camp know?¡± she asked. ¡°Not yet,¡± Alric said. ¡°But rumors will spread.¡± She nodded, her thoughts turning inward. The soldiers were already teetering on the edge of despair. News of a Devourer could push them over. But keeping it from them until the last moment would breed resentment¡ªand fear. Fear of the wrong kind. ¡°We¡¯ll tell them tomorrow,¡± she decided. ¡°After the first patrols return with their reports. If we¡¯re to fight this thing, they need to be prepared.¡± Intertext: A Ballad For The Fallen The door of the tavern creaked open, the low murmur of conversation and the scent of roasting meat spilling out into the evening air. The man who entered was unremarkable in appearance¡ªmid-height, lean, with a face that could blend into any crowd. His cloak, dark and weathered, brushed the floor as he stepped inside, his boots silent on the wooden floor. He moved with practiced ease, scanning the dim-lit room for his target. His name was Corbin, and conning people out of their coin was as natural to him as breathing. The tavern was a familiar one, rustic and worn, with low beams and flickering candles that struggled against the encroaching gloom. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm, orange glow across the room. The patrons seemed content to sit in their own little worlds, either nursing their drinks or trading quiet stories of their own. Corbin made his way to the back corner, slipping into a seat where the shadows hid him well. He placed a coin on the table¡ªenough to signal his intent to stay, but not enough to draw attention. His eyes remained fixed on the doorway, waiting. He was a patient man. A skilled one, too, for patience was an art. The target¡ªa merchant with deep pockets but a weak constitution¡ªwas due for a little ¡°game of chance¡± that evening. A simple mark. A routine hustle. But tonight, something was different. A soft melody drifted from the corner of the room, drawing his attention. He narrowed his eyes, squinting against the shadows that clustered like ghosts in the tavern. She sat there, on a raised platform near the hearth, a lute cradled in her arms. Her long, auburn hair shimmered under the faint light, and the soft curve of her face was framed by the flickering glow of the fire.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. A priestess of Amoria. Her voice, when it joined the music, was rich, its presence dominating the room despite the common folk seated at the bar and scattered tables. The tavern grew still as the first notes spilled from her lips. A ballad Corbin had heard many times, but from her lips, with magic interlacing the words, the song felt completely different. The melody was soft at first, like a breeze rustling through leaves, but there was a hidden power in it, something that stirred the very air. Corbin felt it pull at the edges of his consciousness, tugging him into the song as if he, too, were caught in the weave of her voice. ¡¤ ¡¤ ©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤ ??¡¤?¡¤?? ©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤ ¡¤ ¡¤ Of hopes denied and power earned. To claim a force both dark and vast, A chance to break from his haunted past. Where shadows twist and dragons fall, Heroes rise but heed the call. Flames fade low in night''s last breath, Bound to power, bound to death. A glint of steel, a crossbow''s song, Guided by stars as nights drag long. To seize what makes the mighty rule, Yet fear coils tight, his path turns cruel. Two fires blaze like the raging storm, One fed by grief, the other by scorn. Each flame a cry, each claw a tear, While a witness falls, ensnared in their glare. Where shadows twist and dragons fall, Heroes rise, but darkness calls. Flames breathe low in night¡¯s dark breath, Bound to fight, Bound to death. In tremors and thunder, a final stand, Their light fades out like prints on sand. Yet echoes linger where courage bled, Leaving scars where hope lay dead. So heed the silence after fire¡¯s last light, Where ghosts drift on the edge of sight. For where shadows twist and heroes fall, The price of freedom may take it all. ¡¤ ¡¤ ©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤ ??¡¤?¡¤?? ©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤ ¡¤ ¡¤ Chapter 23: Ashes of Resolve Chapter 23: Ashes of Resolve Aurora stood atop the highest ridge overlooking the Burnt Sea, her vast silhouette dominating the dying light. The ashen dunes stretched endlessly below her, a stark and desolate wasteland, their fractured surfaces a testament to the fury of the Fallen One. The air was heavy with ash, the wind¡¯s sharp howl carrying the sulfuric scent of decay and distant magic. Her scales shimmered faintly in the twilight, a glimmer of silver and blue amidst the endless gray. Her gaze swept across the valley below, where her army moved in fluid coordination. The humans, clad in armor that was now dulled by the ever-settling ash, maintained disciplined ranks. The soldiers marched and drilled in precise formations, their swords striking in unison to the barked commands of their officers. Interspersed among them, mages wielded intricate gestures, their magic lancing out in bursts of controlled power that illuminated the haze for fleeting moments. Aurora¡¯s eyes softened with pride as she watched their efforts. ¡±This army,¡° she thought, her chest swelling, ¡±is my creation. I shaped them to embody unity, discipline, and unyielding strength. The elves will falter beneath our might. They cling too tightly to their forests, to their illusions of harmony. They have never faced a force like this.¡° Her focus shifted to the dwarven legions stationed further out, their training ground a cacophony of metal and stone. The dwarves moved with a rigid intensity, their shield walls locking into place with a thunderous clash. The shining barriers bristled with spears that jutted out in perfect synchronization. As their commanders barked orders, the shield walls broke apart, allowing berserkers to surge forth with feral cries. Their hammers struck the earth, sending tremors through the ground as their mages conjured bursts of fire and shards of jagged rock. Moments later, the warriors retreated, reforming their impenetrable walls as if the chaos had been nothing more than an illusion. Aurora nodded approvingly. ¡±They will break the elves in the shadows of the World Trees. Their shield walls will deflect arrows and sapling spears alike. The elves¡¯ vaunted forests will be their undoing.¡° Her thoughts turned to her greatest weapon. Even as her army drilled with unrelenting precision, she knew it was not their swords or spells that would tip the balance in their favor. It was him. Cacophonus. His ability to unleash devastating blasts of sound, shattering both enemies and their morale, would render the dense forests of the elves a death trap. She imagined the explosions of vibrations ripping through the ancient world trees, their defenders thrown into chaos. With Cacophonus on their side, the elves would have no refuge. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips. She spread her wings, the massive membranes unfurling with a sound like distant thunder. With a powerful beat, she ascended into the sky, the force scattering ash and leaving a swirling cloud in her wake. Below, soldiers paused for a moment to glance skyward, their spirits bolstered by the sight of their commander¡¯s flight. She soared above the ash dunes, her essence sense guiding her toward the void. Everything, from the smallest insect to the lifeless rocks, pulsed faintly with the hum of essence. Everything, except him. Cacophonus¡¯s mastery of his essence was absolute; not a single spark leaked from his being. It was a feat that made him unique among their kind. No dragon in recorded history had ever survived without a rider for more than a few years. The bond between dragon and rider was sacred, a sharing of essence that sustained them both. But Cacophonus had endured over a century since the death of his fourth and final rider. Too old to safely bond with another, he had retreated into solitude. Aurora spotted him before she felt the weight of his presence¡ªa massive form coiled upon a basalt outcropping, his dark scales gleaming faintly in the dimming light. His immense size dwarfed her own; the additional two centuries he carried over her own four centuries showed. As her talons touched the ground, one of his golden eyes slid open lazily. His gaze fixed on her with a familiarity that sent a pang through her chest, an ache of something long lost but never truly forgotten. Despite the years and the distance that had grown between them, the sight of him stirred a deep warmth in her chest. He had been her closest friend for so long, a constant presence in her life. Once, he had been more than that¡ªher lover, her confidant. But centuries stretched long, and though their affection endured, they had drifted apart. She landed softly beside him, her talons sinking slightly into the blackened ground. One of his golden eyes slid open lazily, a low rumble emanating from his throat. ¡°Still so restless,¡± his voice thrummed, resonating in her mind like a perfect chord. Aurora stepped closer, lowering her head to nuzzle his snout. The touch was brief, but it stirred a flurry of memories¡ªof battles fought side by side, of laughter shared under starlit skies, and of the bond they had once shared, far deeper than words. She pulled away, her gaze turning to the horizon where the ashen sky blended into the coming night.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°I have no choice,¡± she said after the pause. ¡°The Kairos Initiative insists this is the time to strike. The elves are a threat that must be neutralized before their politics infect the kingdoms any further.¡± Cacophonus let out a deep rumble, part growl, part sigh. ¡°You speak as though you believe that.¡± Her eyes snapped to his, their radiant light flaring. ¡°I do believe it. The Initiative¡¯s calculations have yet to be wrong.¡± But even as the words left her mouth, she felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her. Do I truly? Cacophonus regarded her for a long moment, his gaze piercing in its understanding. ¡°Aurora,¡± he said, his melodic voice softening, ¡°you have always been loyal to your kingdom, to your bond. But this¡­ this path reeks of desperation. Tell me, why now? Why not wait until the elven forces are divided, or their influence wanes naturally?¡± Aurora growled low, her tail lashing against the ground. ¡°We have tried waiting. Tried trusting. And what has it brought us? The Seer says the elves grow stronger with each passing year, their alliances spreading like roots into every kingdom. If we wait, it will be too late.¡± ¡°Too late for what?¡± Cacophonus pressed, his voice a gentle, relentless pressure. ¡°For us to act? Or is it fear, Aurora? Fear of what lies beyond our understanding?¡± Her wings flared, a sharp gust of wind scattering ash around them. ¡°Fear has nothing to do with this!¡± she snapped. ¡°Then tell me, Aurora, why is it so crucial to attack them now?¡± ¡°No one knows. Not even the Seers. We¡¯ve tried to seek the gods¡¯ counsel, but they refuse to speak.¡± Cacophonus tilted his head, his ancient features inscrutable. ¡°The gods¡¯ silence should tell you something. They too are afraid. But not of elves or politics. Something greater stirs, Aurora. Something the gods themselves dare not name.¡± Her heart sank at his words, a cold weight settling in her chest. ¡°What could make the gods fear?¡± she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°The Fallen One,¡± Cacophonus rumbled, his tone darkening. ¡°The Broken One. When she fell to the mortal plane, she tore reality asunder. Her meddling with the Void unleashed the monsters we still contend with. But more than that, she drew attention. Beings older than the gods, from beyond the Void, turned their gaze to our world. They saw us, Aurora. They still see us.¡± Aurora¡¯s blood ran cold. She had heard the stories, of course. Tales of the Fallen¡¯s betrayal, of the creatures that sometimes crossed into world. But to think of something beyond even the gods¡­ She shook her head, trying to dispel the growing unease. ¡°And what would you have me do? Abandon this campaign? Let the elves rise unchecked? If there is a greater threat, then unity must be preserved. This war ensures that.¡± Cacophonus closed his eye again, his voice a quiet hum. ¡°Does it? Or does it blind you to what truly matters? Think carefully, Aurora. The world watches, as do they.¡± Aurora stood motionless for a long moment, Cacophonus¡¯s words coiling through her mind like a venomous serpent. Her chest heaved, the weight of leadership pressing down on her scales. The winds shifted, carrying the acrid scent of burning essence from the dwarves¡¯ forges below. It was a bitter perfume that matched the taste of doubt gnawing at the edges of her resolve. She turned her head sharply, forcing the rising tide of uncertainty back into the recesses of her mind. ¡°You speak in riddles and shadows, Cacophonus,¡± she said, her voice hardening. ¡°But riddles won¡¯t win wars. Action will.¡± Cacophonus¡¯s eye opened again, golden and unyielding, like the sun staring down at a trembling leaf. ¡°Perhaps you are right, Aurora. Perhaps war is the answer.¡± He shifted his massive body, his claws carving deep furrows into the basalt beneath him. ¡°But know this: the choice you make here will ripple across the ages. The ashes of your resolve will either nourish the soil for new life or smother it forever.¡± Aurora lashed her tail, sending a plume of ash spiraling into the air. ¡°Then let it ripple. Let the ashes fall where they may. I will do what must be done.¡± Without waiting for his response, she spread her wings and launched herself into the air. The wind howled around her, carrying her higher above the Burnt Sea. Below, her soldiers raised their swords and cheered, their voices a distant roar against the backdrop of ash and sky. She forced herself to focus on them, on their unshakable faith in her leadership. They believe in me. That must be enough. Aurora felt for the bond that connected her and Lyria. Who on sensing Aurora¡¯s mood, sent waves of pride, happiness and confidence, soothing her. Aurora landed heavily, her talons striking the ground with a force that sent tremors through the ashen dunes. She strode toward the tent, her presence commanding silence from those she passed. The guards pulled the heavy flaps aside, and she extended her neck into the tent, her gaze immediately locking on the central table. Around it stood her most trusted advisors: General Corvath, a grim-faced human with a scar bisecting his jaw; Lady Helin, the elven strategist whose loyalty to Aurora¡¯s bonded soul Lyria had fractured her ties to her own kin; and Dagna Runeweaver, the flame-haired dwarven queen whose brilliance had made the Kairos Initiative possible. The air inside was stifling, thick with the tension of unspoken fears. ¡°Report,¡± Aurora commanded, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Corvath was the first to speak. ¡°Our scouts report increased movement along the elven borders. Their rangers are deploying in greater numbers, and several forest strongholds have been fortified. It seems they anticipate our attack.¡± Helin¡¯s lips thinned. ¡°They are not fools, General. They will not wait idly while we march on their sacred groves. My kin will fight with the ferocity of cornered wolves. Do not underestimate their resolve.¡± Dagna leaned forward. ¡°And if they do, we¡¯ll crush them. The devices to communicate with the initiative are operational. We can unleash the full power of our calculations within a day. The knowledge mages and Seers will predict their every move, outmaneuver them at every turn. We¡¯ll know their plans before they even know themselves.¡± Aurora listened, her gaze sweeping across the faces of her advisors. Each bore the weight of the coming battle in their own way¡ªCorvath¡¯s stoic determination, Helin¡¯s quiet intensity, Dagna¡¯s fiery confidence. They all looked to her for the final word, for the decision that would seal the fate of nations. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. ¡°We strike at dawn,¡± she said, her voice resolute. ¡°The elves expect us, but they do not know the full extent of our power. We will shatter their defenses, break their spirits, and claim victory before the sun sets.¡± The generals nodded, their expressions a mix of relief and determination. Yet as they began to discuss the finer details of the plan, Aurora felt a cold emptiness settle in her chest. Cacophonus¡¯s words echoed in her mind, their weight growing heavier with each passing moment. ¡±The world watches, as do they.¡° Chapter 24: Edge of the Circle Chapter 24: Edge of the Circle The sun hung low over the camp, its pale light filtered through the haze of ash that always seemed to linger in the air. Lyanna and Alric stood in the center of the training circle, their breaths steaming in the chill morning. Around them, soldiers drilled and sparred, their grunts and the clash of steel providing a steady rhythm of violence. Lyanna adjusted her grip on Ember and Scarlet, twin swords glinting in the hazy sunlight, their runes faintly glowing in anticipation. Alric stood opposite her, the edges of his bastard sword already blackened from the previous training match. His broad shoulders rose and fell in measured breaths, a predator gauging the distance to its prey. The faint stirrings of wind around him were unnerving, a harbinger of his magic as he adjusted the currents to his will. ¡°Ready, Mirrorguard?¡± His tone was sharp, teasing, but there was steel beneath the words. Lyanna tilted her head, wiping a smudge of soot from her cheek with the back of her gauntlet. ¡°Try not to hold back, Blackthorn. You might embarrass yourself.¡± Their match began in a blur. Alric moved first, his bastard sword carving a wide arc through the air, his strength and speed a challenge to keep pace with. Lyanna sidestepped, her twin swords dancing in tight, precise motions to deflect and redirect his strikes. Each clash sent sparks flying, the crowd murmuring with every near miss. Her focus narrowed to a single point: his blade, his movements, the weight of his strikes. She moved like water, flowing around his attacks, keeping her distance as she searched for openings. Scarlet lashed out when Alric overextended, forcing him back with its serpentine reach. But Alric was not easily deterred. He pushed forward, relentless. Each of his strikes carried a calculated weight, her defense buckling beneath the force. His bastard sword was a weapon of raw power, and he wielded it with a ferocity that left little room for error. She ducked low, the sharp whistling of Alric¡¯s blade slicing through the space her head had occupied a fraction of a heartbeat ago. She pivoted, her twin swords, weaving a pattern of flashing silver and glowing runes in the ash-filled air. She felt the weight of a dozen eyes on her¡ªmen and women watching the sparring session as if it were a spectacle. Lyanna ignored them, focusing on Alric. He moved like a tempest, his bastard sword carving wide arcs that cut too close for comfort. The ash underfoot swirled unnaturally, and Lyanna¡¯s instincts screamed. Too late. A gust of wind surged upward, kicking a cloud of ash into her face. Her world turned to choking gray. Blindness swam at the edges of her vision, as panic surged. He¡¯s setting you up, Lyanna¡¯s thoughts bit sharply. Focus. She channeled Ember¡¯s essence without hesitation. The sword hummed in her hand, and the runes etched into its blade flared a molten orange, a surge of power coursing into her limbs and into the ash ground. She activated the ash rune, launching herself upward like a burning comet through the choking cloud. The ash below churned like storm clouds as she soared, seeking the edge of the ring she knew should be there. She twisted midair and landed in a crouch¡ªbut the moment her boots hit the ground, she realized her mistake. Alric was already there, less than six steps away, a smirk tugging at his lips. His sword was already in motion, a downward slash aimed to split her skull. Lyanna twisted, Ember rising to meet the blow, the impact ringing through her arms and setting her teeth on edge. She barely had time to pull back, draining the last of Ember¡¯s essence to push herself sideways. The force sent her skidding, the edges of her boots flirting with the boundary of the dueling ring.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Their movements fell into a rhythm, an endless give-and-take. Alric pressed forward relentlessly, his attacks coming in waves like the ocean crashing against a battered shore. Lyanna dodged and deflected, her body moving as if on instinct. Her twin swords became extensions of herself. Her thoughts raced with every exchange. Find the openings. He¡¯s strong but overcommits. Just a little longer... Scarlet lashed out like a viper when Alric¡¯s stance left a gap, the whip-sword¡¯s flexible blade aiming for his exposed side. He spun away, his bastard sword coming up to block just in time, forcing him to reset his assault. Stay light, she told herself, even as fatigue gnawed at her limbs. Do not let him corner you. Lyanna will focus on dodging and deflecting Alric blows, her twin swords blurring in the air. Alric will use his wind magic to blow the ash into Lyanna¡¯s facing, forcing her to use Ember to block Alric strike. But the dueling ring was unforgiving. The edge of the ring loomed closer with every exchange. Alric¡¯s strikes grew more aggressive, his bastard sword carving heavy, deliberate arcs that forced her back. She tried to maneuver, to steer herself away from the boundary, but he anticipated her every move. She froze when her foot touched the edge of the circle The moment was infinitesimal, but it was enough. Alric feinted left before bringing his sword down in a heavy overhead slash. Lyanna saw it coming and panic caused old instincts to rise up, Scarlet rising to meet his blade head-on. The impact was catastrophic. Pain lanced through her hand as the force wrenched Scarlet free from her grip. The sword flew from her hand, spinning through the air before clattering to the ground behind her. Her mangled fingers throbbed, blood dripping from where the hilt had torn into her flesh. She stumbled, Ember trembling in her remaining hand. Alric pressed his advantage, a flurry of strikes driving her to her knees. Her last defense shattered as his bastard sword slammed into Ember, tearing it from her grasp and sending it skidding across the dirt. Lyanna fell hard, her back hitting the ground. She gasped for air, her chest heaving as she stared up at Alric. He loomed over her, his blade pointed at her throat, the ash cloud settling around them like a shroud. Alric kept his blade poised for a moment longer before stepping back, offering Lyanna his hand. ¡°You did well today,¡± he said, his tone uncharacteristically soft. ¡°You managed to avoid using Scarlet to block most of the duel. You¡¯re learning to dodge and deflect more often.¡± Lyanna scoffed, wiping dirt from her cheek with the back of her hand. ¡°If I¡¯d done well,¡± she muttered, brushing ash from her armor, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be sprawled on the ground like a fool.¡± Alric laughed, a sound that was more wind through trees than mirth. ¡°You¡¯re too hard on yourself. You¡¯re not at your old level of mastery yet, I¡¯ll admit that. But you¡¯re much closer than you think¡ªand a hell of a lot better than you were just a few days ago. Old instincts are hard to break, but you¡¯re breaking them.¡± Lyanna sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn¡¯t wrong¡ªher progress was undeniable, but the gap between her and her former self still loomed large. She rolled her shoulders and motioned toward a nearby figure hovering at the edge of the circle. ¡°Kate! Over here.¡± The young woman jogged over, her red healer¡¯s robe rubbing against the ash. Kate was one of the new camp aides, Lyanna had appointed. Her face was flushed from exertion, stray auburn curls escaping her tightly bound hair. ¡°Commander,¡± Kate said, her voice formal but not without warmth. ¡°Let me see.¡± Lyanna extended her injured hand without protest, and Kate¡¯s fingers hovered over the torn skin. A soft green glow enveloped Lyanna¡¯s hand, the soothing warmth of the healing magic dulling the pain almost immediately. As Kate worked, she hesitated. ¡°Commander,¡± she began carefully, ¡°the soldiers¡­ they¡¯re exhausted. They¡¯ve been drilling all morning. Some of them were hoping for a break.¡± Lyanna turned her gaze toward the training yard. The soldiers were clearly weary¡ªshoulders slumping, steps dragging as they sparred. Even the sharp clang of swords had grown muted. Her expression hardened, and when she spoke, her voice was loud enough to carry to the entire yard. ¡°The monsters out there won¡¯t ask if they¡¯re tired before they attack,¡± she said firmly, her eyes scanning the soldiers. ¡°We drill until it¡¯s second nature because hesitation gets people killed. The healers are not to cure exhaustion¡ªnot theirs and not mine¡ªuntil the end of the day. Only injuries. I won¡¯t have another man or woman die under my command.¡± Her words hung heavy in the air. Kate paused for a moment, catching her breath, before nodding and finishing her work. She stepped back and bit her lip as she glanced between Lyanna and Alric. ¡°Understood, Commander,¡± she said softly, and then moved to tend to Alric. Alric met Lyanna¡¯s gaze as Kate began healing his bruises. ¡°You push them hard,¡± he remarked, his voice quiet. ¡°I push them to survive,¡± Lyanna replied, her tone steely. For a moment, neither said anything more. The sounds of the camp¡ªsteel ringing against steel, the dull thud of boots on packed ash¡ªfilled the silence. Alric gave a small nod, his usual smirk missing. ¡°Fair enough,¡± he said simply, his voice low but firm. Lyanna turned back to the ring, the ache in her hand forgotten. There was always more to do. Chapter 25: Panicked Flight & Misunderstandings Chapter 25: Panicked Flight & Misunderstandings The forest was a dying cathedral. Its ancient trees, gnarled and bent, shed brittle leaves in shades of rust. The air was sharp with autumn¡¯s chill, a bitter wind slipping through branches like unseen fingers. Kael moved quietly beneath the thinning canopy, boots soft against the mulch of leaves and soil. His breath misted in the cold as he followed the tracks¡ªmassive hoof prints pressed deep into the earth. It was just another baby boar. A proper hunt, Kael thought grimly. Enough meat to last a month. He crouched, crossbow cradled close to his chest, its familiar weight comforting in his hands. The modified weapon gleamed faintly, the serpent scale embedded in its core, its essence pool twice as large as the old core. Four bolts. That was all he had, but each shot mattered. Kael brushed a calloused thumb over the etched grooves along the stock, steadying himself. He needed to be quick. Precise. Up ahead, the underbrush trembled. Kael froze, sinking lower into the shadows. He exhaled carefully through his nose, raising the crossbow as the beast lumbered into view. A baby boar, maybe, but it was still enormous¡ªa towering mass of muscle, bristled black fur, and yellow tusks the size of sickles. Its beady red eyes swept the clearing, breath puffing out in ragged clouds. Kael¡¯s finger rested on the trigger. The boar snorted, pawing the ground, its broad snout rooting through fallen leaves. He shifted his weight, lining up the shot¡ª The egg. It hit him like a blow to the chest. A pulse of emotion, sudden and primal¡ªfear. Not his own, but the egg¡¯s. Kael gasped softly, lowering the crossbow an inch as the pulse rippled through him, a fluttering, keening cry that clawed at his chest. He staggered back a step, boots crunching on brittle leaves. The boar¡¯s head snapped up. Its eyes fixed on him. No. Kael gritted his teeth, fighting to clear his mind. The fear pressed in, heavy and foreign, but he pushed it aside. His hands trembled on the crossbow as he stumbled backward. The boar snorted, huffing a breath that misted in the cold air. It charged. Kael¡¯s body moved on instinct. He leveled the crossbow and fired. The serpent scale flared, and the bolt hissed through the air, drilling into the beast¡¯s shoulder and leaving a nasty hole as it exited. The boar screamed¡ªa sound like iron scraping stone¡ªbut it didn¡¯t stop. Blood sprayed across the fallen leaves as it thundered forward, closing the distance. Kael scrambled back, throwing himself sideways as the boar barreled past, tusks carving a furrow into the earth where he¡¯d stood. He rolled to his knees, reloading with shaking hands, his breath ragged. The egg, he realized. It¡¯s scared. Something¡¯s wrong. He didn¡¯t have time to think. He fired another shot into the boar¡¯s side, hearing the satisfying crunch of steel punching through hide. The beast squealed, staggering, but still it turned to face him. Kael stood, raising the crossbow again. And then the egg pulsed¡ªstronger this time. Kael staggered, a sharp ache blooming in his skull. A feeling of panic, of helplessness. It overwhelmed him. It¡¯s in danger. He almost wasted another bolt on the boar, but there was no need. With a groan like a felled tree, the beast collapsed, its massive body kicking up dust and scattering leaves. Kael didn¡¯t stop to look. He slung the crossbow over his back and sprinted into the trees. The forest felt tighter, darker, as if the world itself were closing in. The air hung heavy with rot and decay, the sharp bite of autumn mingling with something foul. Kael pushed forward as fast as he dared, his breath ragged but quiet. Every step mattered now. If the egg¡¯s fear was real¡ªif something was happening¡ªhe needed to reach it. But recklessness would get him killed.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The monsters were out again. More of them this time. He could feel it¡ªan uneasy stillness broken only by low growls, soft rustling, and the occasional snap of a twig. Shapes moved in the periphery of his vision, hulking figures half-hidden by shadow. Lurkers with their elongated jaws skittered through the underbrush, while taller, malformed silhouettes loomed deeper in the gloom, their red and yellow eyes gleaming like hot coals. There are more. The thought chilled him, though it wasn¡¯t surprising. Over the last week, the forest had grown worse. The monsters¡ªwhatever they were¡ªhad been multiplying, spreading like rot. Every night, their growls grew louder, their movements closer. Something was driving them, though Kael didn¡¯t know what. He crouched low, slipping behind the trunk of a broad iron-barked tree as a pair of lurkers scuttled across the path ahead. Their limbs bent at sickening angles, claws clicking over fallen branches. Kael stilled his breathing, heart pounding against his ribs. He couldn¡¯t afford to draw their attention. Move, but stay unseen. When they passed, he darted forward, weaving through the trees with practiced precision. He moved like a shadow, silent and quick, his eyes scanning for threats. The egg¡¯s pulse throbbed in his chest, sharper now, as though the bond was tightening with every step. Fear mingled with desperation, fueling his movements even as his legs burned and his body screamed for rest. At one point, a shape rose to his left¡ªa hulking, broad-shouldered creature with too many eyes. Kael froze behind a fallen log, clutching the crossbow at his side, his knuckles white against the worn wood. The thing sniffed the air, a wet, rumbling sound, its jagged teeth glinting as it turned its head this way and that. Kael didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t breathe, until the creature lumbered away. They¡¯re waiting, he thought grimly as he continued on, ducking low beneath hanging branches. Watching me. The egg¡¯s fear hit him again¡ªa jolt, sharp and frantic. It pulled him forward, guiding him like a compass needle. He skirted through a dried creek bed, past gnarled roots and patches of sharp thorns, careful to stay hidden from the growing chorus of shuffling feet and guttural sounds that surrounded him. Every shadow felt like it was watching him. Every breath of wind carried a scent of blood and rot. When he finally reached the rocks that formed the walls of his camp, Kael was soaked in sweat, his arms scraped raw and his lungs screaming for air. He didn¡¯t stop. He threw himself up the jagged face, fingers digging into cracks, boots scraping over loose stones as he climbed. The voices reached him before the top. Human voices. He froze just below the ledge, his chest heaving as he strained to listen. ¡°Kate, I said don¡¯t touch it!¡± a man barked. His voice was harsh, authoritative, and edged with anger. ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to,¡± came a woman¡¯s sharp reply. ¡°But one of them is cracking, my lord. That means¡ª¡± ¡°That means it¡¯s bonded.¡± The man¡¯s voice lowered, cold and sure. ¡°And if it¡¯s bonded, someone¡¯s nearby. Someone who won¡¯t take kindly to us.¡± Kael felt ice settle in his gut. They know. He peeked over the ridge, heart pounding in his ears. The camp was swarming with strangers¡ªsixteen of them, men and women in ragged armor stained with blood and ash. They looked like bandits, but there was something else about them. Soldiers, once. Hardened survivors or defectors from the battle between the humans and the orcs. The leader stood at the center. A golden-haired man, tall and broad, his scorched armor still bearing the faint insignia of a long-dead banner. Beside him, a green-haired woman¡ªKate¡ªhovered too close to the two dragon eggs. Her face hovering above the egg with dozens of tiny fissures running along its surface. His egg. Kael¡¯s muscles coiled with tension, his pulse roaring. The egg¡¯s fear flared again, frantic now, and Kael felt it like a stone in his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to focus. The golden-haired man turned, his voice carrying across the clearing. ¡°If it¡¯s bonded, the gods are watching. Touching it would be blasphemy. A curse on all of us.¡± ¡°What about the other one,¡± Kate asked, her gaze flicking back to the unbonded egg. ¡°That one is just what we need,¡± the man growled. ¡°Lyanna will be very pleased if we bring it back.¡± Kael¡¯s breathing quickened. He slid back down the rocks, unslinging his crossbow with shaking hands. Sixteen of them. Four bolts. He thumbed the safety, feeling the faint vibration of the serpent scale beneath his touch. Four shots. Four good shots. The leader first, he thought. Then Kate. Then two more before they realized where he was. And then? Kael glanced toward the campfire, where his sword lay waiting. Then I charge. Maybe they¡¯ll scatter. Maybe they¡¯ll think better of angering the gods. The egg pulsed again, and Kael exhaled slowly, steadying his aim. ¡°I¡¯m coming,¡± he whispered. And with that, he climbed back up the ridge, crossbow raised, ready to fight for the only thing that mattered. Chapter 26: A Whisper of Wind, A Roar of Fire Chapter 26: A Whisper of Wind, A Roar of Fire Kael¡¯s breathing hitched as he steadied his crossbow, the cool steel of its frame pressing against his gloved fingers. Below him, the leader¡¯s golden hair gleamed like a halo in the muted light. The man stood apart from the others, his poise serene amidst the chaos, as though he knew no one would dare challenge him. Kael tightened his grip. He doesn¡¯t see me. I can end this now. The moment his fingers brushed the activation rune of his crossbow, the leader turned, locking Kael in a gaze so intense it felt like it could pierce through the distance between them. His finger brushed the activation rune, and the crossbow hissed to life. The leader turned. It was unnatural¡ªno sound, no warning, just the unsettling certainty that the man knew. His gaze, sharp as a hawk''s, pierced Kael from across the jagged rocks. Panic surged through Kael¡¯s chest like cold water. ¡°Father¡¯s mercy,¡± Kael hissed, his pulse roaring in his ears as his finger squeezed the trigger. The bolt shot through the air with lethal precision¡ªuntil the wind shifted. It should have been perfect. It was perfect. The bolt screamed through the air, aimed unerringly for the man¡¯s head, but fate¡ªor something crueler¡ªintervened. A sharp gust, unnatural and deliberate, veered the bolt to the side. Kael watched, stunned, as the projectile clattered harmlessly against the stones. ¡°Damn you,¡± Kael snarled under his breath, dropping the crossbow as though it had betrayed him. He yanked his rune-carving knife from his belt and hurled himself down the slope, feet skidding on loose shale. The etched stones lining the path gleamed faintly in the dim light, their power dormant until his knife¡¯s tip kissed their runes. The very runes he had carved to practice his rune crafting over the past week. With hurried strokes, Kael slashed at the markings, activating one after another in rapid succession. The air filled with a cacophony of elemental chaos. Water surged and roared, erupting into walls that crashed down the slope. Flames licked the edges of the rock, spitting embers into the air. Earth trembled, cracks forming and threatening to swallow anyone careless enough to misstep. The bandits, initially emboldened by the sight of one lone figure, faltered as the elements tore through their ranks. Weapons glinted in their hands, but hesitation dimmed their shine. Shouts of confusion and anger rang out as Kael¡¯s makeshift defenses forced them into disarray. But the leader came forward undeterred. Kael saw him now, moving with an unnatural grace that mocked the storm raging around him. The wind that had deflected Kael¡¯s bolt swirled around the man, a shield of unseen hands batting away water and fire with contemptuous ease. Kael¡¯s stomach twisted. A mage. The realization struck like a hammer blow. His fingers tightened around his carving knife as he drew closer to his sword, lying by the camp fire where he¡¯d left it. The leader''s face came into focus¡ª grim, and utterly calm. He carried a bastard sword, its dark metal seeming to drink in the light. Wind swirled around the golden-haired man, carrying debris and embers in a miniature storm. The walls of fire flickered and died as the air snuffed them out. Streams of water arced away, deflected by unseen forces. The earth trembled, but the man strode through it all, untouched. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Their blades met in a violent clash. The force jolted through Kael¡¯s arms, nearly numbing his grip. The leader¡¯s strikes came swift and unrelenting, his swordsmanship brutal yet elegant. Kael struggled to keep up, his movements slowed by the oppressive wind that seemed to coil around him, dragging him back with every step. The fight was hopelessly one-sided. Kael knew it the moment their swords locked again, his blade trembling under the pressure of the leader¡¯s. Kael grit his teeth and shoved back, using every ounce of his strength to break the lock. He stumbled as the leader let him go, the wind pushing against him like an invisible wall. Think, Kael. Don¡¯t fight his strength. Find the weakness. But there was no weakness in this storm of a man. Every step Kael took, the leader anticipated. Every feint, every counter, met with effortless precision. Kael felt the blade bite into his side before he even registered the move. Pain flared hot and sharp, stealing his breath. He staggered, his knees buckling. The leader didn¡¯t press the attack, watching instead as Kael struggled to rise, blood staining his tunic. ¡°Yield,¡± the leader said, his tone devoid of malice, yet heavy with finality. Kael¡¯s vision swam, but he forced himself upright, gripping his sword with both hands. I can¡¯t stop. Not now. Now when it counts on me. ¡°You¡¯ll have to kill me,¡± he spat, though his voice faltered under the weight of his own fear. The leader tilted his head, golden hair whipping in the wind. ¡°You''re a rogue dragon rider, that makes you a threat. I won''t kill you, but I will take you down. Don''t make me do it the hard way.¡± He advanced again, his movements as sure as the wind itself. Kael raised his sword, prepared for the end, not believing a bandit''s word, when a flash of light exploded in the periphery¡ªa rune backfiring where Kael had carved it. The burst of energy was wild and uncontrolled, throwing both combatants off balance. Kael hit the ground hard, the impact jarring his wounded side. Gritting his teeth, he clawed at the dirt, dragging himself toward another rune he¡¯d carved earlier. The leader recovered quickly, his storm already gathering force again. Kael could feel the pull of it, the air tightening around him. This is it. One last chance. Make it count. As the leader¡¯s shadow loomed over him, Kael¡¯s hand closed around the one of the ward stones. He poured the last of his strength into activating it, the air shimmering with its unstable power. Kael funneled every last drop of essence from the tiny pool he''d gained after bonding with the dragon into the stone, pushing it to the breaking point. And then, with a reckless abandon, he poured in even more. The explosion sent them both flying. Kael¡¯s world spun, his body slamming into the jagged rocks. Pain swallowed him whole, his vision dimming as the wind howled around him. And then, silence. Kael lay there, gasping for breath, his thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. He could see the leader rising in the distance, bloodied but unbowed. He streched his mind, seeking the dragon''s familiar presence, and sent a silent apology, his thoughts laced with regret and sorrow. Images of his failure to protect the dragon flooded his mind, and he hoped the creature could sense the depth of his remorse. But even as his mind wrestled with the weight of his failure, Kael''s consciousness began to slip away. The pain in his body a dull roar compared to the chaos in his thoughts. But then, like the whisper of a breeze through the trees, came a familiar sensation¡ªa presence in his mind. The hatchling. He felt it, fragile yet determined, reaching out to him. A wash of warmth flooded his senses, not in words, but in emotions: reassurance, comfort, and an unshakable trust. The connection hummed like a faint melody, soothing his despair. Kael clung to it as though it were a lifeline. A sharp cracking sound cut through the stillness, pulling Kael¡¯s attention. His bleary eyes turned toward the dragon egg, its surface now splintering under some unseen force. He blinked through the haze of his exhaustion, his heart racing. It¡¯s hatching. Now? The egg fractured further, tiny fissures spreading like veins of lightning. Finally, with a decisive crack, a piece of the shell fell away, revealing a glint of copper. Kael squinted, his breath catching as the hatchling emerged. It wasn¡¯t what he had expected. The dragon was small¡ªsmaller than any hatchling Kael had ever heard of. Its scales gleamed like polished copper, and its body seemed to be an intricate combination of flesh and mechanical components. Tiny gears whirred faintly at its joints, and its eyes glowed with a soft golden light, like molten metal. It let out a roar¡ªor at least it tried to. The sound was more like a squeaky chirp than the fearsome cry Kael anticipated. The absurdity of it all almost made him laugh, but the effort was too much. His vision blurred as his head lolled back against the rock and the world went dark. Chapter 27: Bonds Forged By The Fire Chapter 27: Bonds Forged By The Fire Kael¡¯s eyes fluttered open to a haze of dim light and muted pain. The world was blurry, his thoughts disjointed, as though his mind couldn¡¯t keep pace with the events of the battle. He felt an odd warmth pressing against his chest¡ªa steady, comforting heat that contrasted sharply with the chill of the surrounding air. He tried to move but hissed as a sharp pain radiated from his side. His body felt like a patchwork of bruises and cuts, each screaming for attention. Before he could react further, a soothing sensation washed over him, dulling the edge of the pain. ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± a soft, steady voice said. Kael blinked, his vision clearing enough to make out a figure leaning over him. A young woman, her fingers glowing faintly with green light, pressed them against his side. The glow danced like embers in the dim light, the warmth from her magic seeping into his battered body. Her auburn hair fell in loose strands around her face, and her sharp eyes, flecked with gold, focused intently on her work. ¡°What...?¡± Kael¡¯s voice came out hoarse, his throat dry. The woman glanced up briefly, her lips quirking into a faint smile. ¡°You¡¯re lucky you didn¡¯t bleed out. Sit still, or I¡¯ll make sure you regret it.¡± Kael¡¯s instincts screamed at him to get away, but when he tried to move, he found himself pinned. Looking down, his heart skipped a beat. The dragon. The hatchling lay curled atop his chest, its small body rising and falling with each tiny breath. Its copper scales gleamed in the soft light, and the faint whir of mechanical components hummed as it shifted slightly in its sleep. The absurdity of its appearance struck him again¡ªpart flesh, part machine, yet undeniably alive. ¡°What is this?¡± Kael demanded, his voice sharper this time. He tried to push himself up, but the dragon let out a soft chirp, digging its tiny claws into his tunic. Its glowing golden eyes blinked open, fixing him with a look that felt both curious and reproachful. The woman¡ªKate¡ªlaughed softly. ¡°If the dragon trusts me enough to sleep on you, you can trust me enough to sit still.¡± Kael narrowed his eyes, his body tense despite the healing magic dulling his pain. ¡°What¡­¡± He took a breath, wincing at the sharp pain. ¡°Where are the others? The bandits?¡± Kate¡¯s lips quirked upward, a dry chuckle escaping her. ¡°Bandits, huh? We do look the part, don¡¯t we?¡± She shook her head, the glow of her magic flickering as she worked. ¡°The others are outside. That ruckus you and Alric caused? Loud enough to wake every monster within a hundred miles. We¡¯re keeping watch to make sure none come poking around.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Kael said, his mind racing. ¡°What do you mean ¡®so-called bandits¡¯? If you¡¯re not bandits, then who are you? And why are you here?¡± Kate leaned back, her gaze flickering to the dragon. ¡°You have a lot of questions for someone who should be unconscious.¡± She shrugged. ¡°We¡¯re not bandits. Not really. But I guess we look the part, don¡¯t we?¡± She gestured to her leather armor, patched and worn, and the assortment of mismatched weapons strapped to her belt. Kael¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Then who are you?¡± Kate sighed, leaning back against the rough surface of the rock. ¡°Soldiers. From the orc war that took place. When the war ended and the Beast tide happened... things fell apart. Kandria is under siege and about to fall, and we''re stuck cleaning up the monsters that infest these woods. And with the Burnt Sea making supply lines a nightmare, our gear''s going to stay dented for the foreseeable future.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Kael¡¯s eyes narrowed, his mind racing as Kate¡¯s words sank in. Soldiers? Cleaning up monsters? It didn¡¯t add up. Everything about their operation screamed "banditry"¡ªfrom their mismatched weapons to their opportunistic timing. But before he could voice his doubts, Kate pressed her glowing fingers harder against his side, sending a sharp jolt of warmth through his body that made him flinch. ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± she muttered, her tone brooking no argument. ¡°You¡¯ll tear open the wound.¡± Kael scowled, biting back a retort. Instead, he let his gaze flicker down to the dragon nestled on his chest. The hatchling chirped softly, a high-pitched, almost musical sound, before nuzzling against his tunic. Its warmth seeped into him, a stark contrast to the chill in the air. This doesn¡¯t make sense, Kael thought. Why isn¡¯t it running? Why isn¡¯t it afraid? ¡°You still haven¡¯t explained why you¡¯re here,¡± he said aloud, his voice low and distrustful. ¡°If you¡¯re not bandits, what are you? You sure hell are not soldiers.¡± Kate gave him a sidelong glance, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. ¡°You don¡¯t trust easily. Smart. But you¡¯re alive because of us, so maybe dial down the suspicion.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not an answer,¡± Kael shot back. She sighed, leaning back and letting the glow of her magic fade. ¡°Fine. Believe what you want. Stay here, bleed out. Or don¡¯t. Not my problem.¡± She pushed herself to her feet, brushing off her patched armor. ¡°But I¡¯ll tell you this much¡ªwe¡¯re not your enemy. Not yet.¡± Kael gritted his teeth, forcing himself to sit up despite the pain. The dragon chirped again, clinging to his tunic as if sensing his discomfort. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere with you,¡± he said firmly. Kate raised an eyebrow, her expression amused. ¡°Not even with that little one leading the way?¡± She nodded toward the dragon. ¡°Face it, rider. That hatchling¡¯s bonded to you. Wherever it goes, you¡¯re going to follow.¡± Kael blinked, his eyes shifting back to the dragon. Rider. The word felt heavy, foreign. He¡¯d heard the stories, of course¡ªof dragon riders and their legendary bonds. But him? He couldn¡¯t even protect his own squad. And now this hatchling¡ªthis strange, copper-scaled creature¡ªhad chosen him? The dragon tilted its head, blinking golden eyes up at him. Kael hesitated, then reached out tentatively, brushing his fingers against its snout. The heat was startling, almost too warm, but the hatchling let out a pleased trill, nudging his hand. A name came to him then, unbidden, as though whispered by the wind. ¡°Titanis,¡± he murmured. ¡°That¡¯s your name, isn¡¯t it?¡± The dragon¡¯s reaction was immediate. A surge of emotion¡ªjoy, pride, and a flicker of something deeper¡ªwashed over him, so vivid it was like hearing the dragon speak. Titanis chirped, pressing its snout against Kael¡¯s palm. Kael¡¯s chest tightened. The connection was unlike anything he¡¯d ever felt, raw and intimate. ¡°Titanis,¡± he repeated, testing the name again. It felt right, like it had always been meant to be. ¡°You¡¯ve got the knack for this,¡± Kate said, watching the interaction with an unreadable expression. ¡°Most riders take days, sometimes weeks, to figure out a name.¡± Kael ignored her, his focus entirely on Titanis. He reached out with his thoughts, hesitantly brushing against the fragile bond that had formed between them. Do you like it? The answer wasn¡¯t words but a feeling¡ªa resounding, undeniable yes. Titanis¡¯s emotions rippled through him, a blend of trust and excitement that left him breathless. Kael let out a shaky breath, rubbing Titanis¡¯s snout again. The surreal nature of the moment struck him like a hammer blow. I¡¯m a dragon rider. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He had fought through ash and ruin for this moment. ¡°Looks like Titanis is sticking with us,¡± Kate said, crossing her arms. ¡°And where Titanis goes, you go.¡± Kael frowned. ¡°How can you be so sure?¡± Kate shrugged. ¡°Call it a hunch. Or maybe it¡¯s the fact that dragons tend to follow their riders. Either way, you¡¯ve got two choices: come with us, or get left behind. Your dragon¡¯s already made up its mind.¡± Kael looked down at Titanis, who chirped softly, his emotions clear through the bond¡ªa tug of reassurance, almost playful. Kael sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He didn¡¯t trust Kate or her group, but Titanis seemed at ease, and he didn¡¯t have the strength to argue. Reluctantly, he shifted, gathering his belongings. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the second dragon egg lying next to where Titanis had hatched, still untouched. He half-expected Kate or her group to have taken it, but there it was, nestled in the dirt. He hesitated, then carefully lifted the egg, its surface cool and smooth under his fingers. Why didn¡¯t they take it? The question gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside. For now, he was grateful. Titanis chirped again, climbing onto his shoulder with surprising agility. The weight was unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Kael adjusted his grip on the egg, casting one last wary glance at Kate. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯ll follow. But this isn¡¯t trust. It¡¯s convenience.¡± Kate smirked, already turning to leave. ¡°Whatever helps you sleep at night, rider.¡± With Titanis perched on his shoulder and the egg cradled in his arms, Kael followed, the bond humming faintly in his mind. Chapter 28: Firehands Reckoning [Arc 3 Start] Chapter 28: Firehand''s Reckoning The steam engine roared beneath Drakgar¡¯s feet, a relentless growl that mirrored the fire in his chest. The platform trembled with every churn of its metal guts, the vibrations crawling up his legs and settling into his bones. Around him, the other orcs strained and sweated, hauling boulders across the steel surface. Their guttural grunts mixed with the hiss of steam, the rhythmic clink of chains, and the ever-present metallic symphony of the convoy. Drakgar gripped the rough hemp rope that connected him to the monstrous slab of granite behind him. His hands, callused from decades of war and labor, welcomed the coarse bite of the fibers. The boulder dug a path in the iron floor as he hauled it inch by inch. Pain blossomed in his shoulders and thighs, each step a battle, each moment a prayer to his willpower. Pain is the purifier. Pain tempers the body, and the body is the vessel for the mind. If the vessel cracks, the mind spills out into madness. Drakgar''s eyes narrowed at the horizon of endless, rolling platforms, each a miniature world of labor and training. They were part of the convoy, hundreds of platforms lashed together, moving endlessly across the war-scarred plains. Each was a cog in their nomadic war machine, a reminder that the world had no room for weakness. Especially not for him. Not now. Not when the ninth essence ritual loomed like a predator at his throat. ¡°Seventy-eight crystals harvested last week. Forty-three consumed to power the convoy. Reserves are holding steady at¡ª¡± intoned a flat, clipped voice. ¡°Not enough,¡± Drakgar growled through gritted teeth, his breath coming in short, searing gasps. The boulder behind him felt heavier with every heartbeat, the rope cutting into his palms like a blade. Blood welled in shallow cuts where the fibers had bitten deep, but he ignored it. The body could endure. It had to. He cast a sidelong glance at the orc woman his wife had sent as his ¡°assistant.¡± Her name was Ashra, though she was no more assistant than a taskmaster. She stood with her ledger clutched to her chest, her sharp, calculating eyes scanning the platform. Her hair was shaved on one side, the remaining strands braided tightly in the orcish fashion, though the precision of it suggested she lacked the chaotic violence of a true warrior. Ashra continued, her voice never breaking rhythm. ¡°Informants report that the elves have discovered one of the key ingredients for the alloy.¡± Drakgar spat on the ground, his saliva tinged with the taste of iron and smoke. ¡°The elves are their own problem. Humans and dwarves will see to that soon enough. They¡¯re stretched thin already. No sense losing more valuable elven to experiments when their kind might die under human blades and dwarven hammers.¡± Ashra raised an eyebrow. ¡°Then where does the threat lie, Firehand?¡± He stopped, planting his feet firmly and letting the rope slacken. The boulder groaned to a halt behind him, and his shoulders sagged with temporary relief. He turned to glare at her, his golden eyes hard and unyielding. ¡°The goblins.¡± She nodded, unsurprised. ¡°There are two guilds pushing for it. One is ahead in the race, but they¡¯ve burned through their talent¡ªsacrificed them to the process. They¡¯re hemorrhaging coin to recruit new minds.¡± ¡°Then we back the other,¡± Drakgar said without hesitation, yanking the rope taut again. The boulder resumed its reluctant journey forward. ¡°Send an emissary.¡± ¡°To offer them the recipe?¡± Drakgar barked a laugh, low and cold. ¡°No. Let them crawl. The ones sacrificing fewer lives will win in the long run. The other guild can burn through their coffers all they like, but talent doesn¡¯t grow back. Even goblins can only buy so much before there¡¯s nothing left to spend.¡± ¡°And what if your guild loses momentum?¡± Ashra pressed. ¡°The Skystriders of their competitors could drive them out before¡ª¡± ¡°They won¡¯t.¡± Drakgar cut her off. ¡°We¡¯ll ensure their coffers stay full. An exclusivity contract to sell the food we grow in our Greenhouses will give them the coin they need and keep them tied to our leash.¡± Ashra tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Clever.¡± Drakgar didn¡¯t reply. The boulder was almost at the edge of the platform now, his legs trembling under the strain. Ashra flipped to another page of her notes. ¡°The humans are asking for more essence crystals. They¡¯re offering substantial amounts of food in exchange.¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. He exhaled sharply through his nose. ¡°Sell them a hundred. Get as much food as possible. If the greenhouse project fails, we¡¯ll need the reserves.¡± Ashra opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, another presence arrived¡ªa hand on her shoulder, soft but firm. She turned and met the gaze of Drakgar¡¯s wife Kora, who nodded silently. Ashra bowed her head and stepped back, leaving them alone. Drakgar dropped the rope, letting the boulder sit idle as he turned toward Kora. Her engineer¡¯s clothes clung to her, damp from the engine room¡¯s heat, smudged with grease and sweat. The sun glinted off the silver tools at her belt, but her face shone brighter. She was a vision of strength and beauty, and he was reminded, as always, that she was the only thing in this cursed world that could still make him feel alive. Drakgar turned toward his wife, the weight of the day melting away as their eyes met. Without hesitation, he crossed the distance between them, his calloused hands cupping her face. The grime and tension of the world vanished as he pressed his lips to hers, the kiss fierce and unyielding. When they broke apart, Kora¡¯s lips curved into a rare, knowing smile. ¡°It¡¯s time,¡± she said softly. Drakgar swallowed hard, his gaze lingering on her face. If the essence ritual failed, this might be the last time he would see her. But if he succeeded¡­ No. Failure wasn¡¯t an option. ¡°I¡¯ll come back,¡± he said, his voice resolute. Her smile didn¡¯t falter, but her hand tightened briefly on his arm. Neither of them believed in promises, only in actions. And for Drakgar Firehand, actions were all that remained. Drakgar and Kora stepped onto the narrow iron bridge that swayed slightly with the rumbling motion of the convoy. Beneath them, the distant roar of the steam engines served as a reminder of their people''s relentless drive. The bridge connected two immense platforms, both teeming with orcs engaged in various forms of labor and training. Above, a crimson sunset bled across the sky, casting everything in hues of blood and fire. Waiting at the center of the bridge was the Chief Shaman, a hunched, sinewy figure wrapped in ceremonial robes of black and gold. His staff, crowned with a crystal that glimmered faintly in the dying light, tapped the metal floor as he turned to face them. His face was a maze of scars and tattoos, his eyes clouded with age yet brimming with power. ¡°The chambers are ready, Firehand,¡± the Chief Shaman rasped, his voice weathered like the bark of an ancient tree. ¡°The essence crystal and the high shamans await. You¡¯ve prepared yourself?¡± Drakgar¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°I¡¯ve trained for this my whole life. Pain tempers the vessel.¡± The shaman¡¯s gaze lingered on him, assessing, before he gave a solemn nod. ¡°The ninth ritual is among the most unforgiving. Only General Throgar broke though the ninth barrier. He spoke of agony that would rend the soul itself¡ªhe said it was worse than the tenth, perhaps even the eleventh.¡± Drakgar snorted, a flicker of grim humor in his golden eyes. ¡°May Throgar find glorious war in Kaelos¡¯s halls. If his spirit was right, I¡¯ll soon learn the truth. But I¡¯m no fool. The twelfth will be my end. I¡¯m not Throgar to attempt sixteen.¡± The Chief Shaman studied him a moment longer, then inclined his head in approval. ¡°Wise. Even ambition must bow to the limits of flesh.¡± Kora remained silent at Drakgar¡¯s side, though her presence was steady and grounding. She stepped forward slightly, her hand brushing his arm. ¡°He¡¯ll succeed,¡± she said simply, her voice firm. There was no doubt, no question. The shaman¡¯s lips curled into a faint smile, a rare expression for one so steeped in death and ritual. ¡°May Kaelos favor you, Firehand. Let us proceed.¡± He turned and led them off the bridge, descending a grated ramp toward the deeper recesses of the platform. The air grew heavier with every step, thick with the pungent aroma of burning incense and the metallic tang of raw essence. The sound of drums echoed faintly from the chambers below, a steady beat like the pulse of the earth itself. As they reached the threshold of the ritual chamber, the Chief Shaman paused and turned to Kora. ¡°You may not enter, Engineer. Only those bound to the ritual may witness it.¡± Kora¡¯s eyes flicked to Drakgar, and for a fleeting moment, her stoic expression softened. ¡°Don¡¯t make me come in there to drag you out.¡± Drakgar smirked, his tusks glinting in the low light. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡± With that, she stepped back, allowing the shaman to lead Drakgar into the chamber. The heavy iron door groaned as it closed behind them, sealing him inside a space that reeked of power and promise. The chamber was a cavern of stone and steel, its walls inscribed with runes that pulsed faintly with blue light. At its center, a dais of obsidian rose from the floor, surrounded by high shamans seated in a circle. Each of them bore a staff crowned with crystals of various hues, their faces obscured by shadow and smoke. Atop the dais lay the essence crystal, a massive shard of pure energy that seemed to hum with a life of its own. Its light flickered, casting strange, shifting patterns across the room. The Chief Shaman motioned for Drakgar to ascend. ¡°Take your place, Firehand. The ninth barrier awaits.¡± Drakgar stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. He climbed the steps, each one heavier than the last, until he stood before the crystal. He placed his hands upon its surface, feeling the raw power coursing through it, searing his palms like molten metal. The drums outside grew louder, faster, until they merged with the pounding of his own blood. The high shamans began to chant, their voices weaving a tapestry of ancient words that resonated deep within his bones. And then the pain began. Chapter 29: March of Ash and Flame Chapter 29: March of Ash and Flame The ash dunes stretched endlessly toward the horizon, a sea of muted gray ripples under the weary sun. Lyanna Mirrorguard sat on the edge of one such dune, her mangled fingers resting on the twin swords at her side. Her grip on Scarlet still felt clumsy, the sword¡¯s familiar weight foreign in her injured hand. But weeks of relentless sparring with Alric Blackthorn had dulled her frustration, replacing it with something close to acceptance. Practice, after all, was the only way forward. She sat on the edge of the ash dune outside the command tent, her sharp gaze sweeping over the training grounds below. The sky above hung heavy with the ever-present haze from the Burnt Sea, casting a muted, gray light over the camp. Two hundred and fifty soldiers¡ªher army. Not much to lead into battle against the Devourer, but they were among the best-trained armies now. Weeks of relentless drills in tight formations, adapting to the uneven terrain of the ash-laden forest. Small groups of four, each unit moving like a seamless extension of one another. It was the only way to survive the cursed woods where visibility vanished and danger could strike from any shadow. Beside her, Alric Blackthorn sat cross-legged, silent in meditation. His shoulder brushed against hers, a small, grounding presence. There had been a time when even that slight contact would have made her skin crawl. A Mirrorguard sitting calmly with a Blackthorn? Madness. Their families had been locked in a bitter feud for well over a decade, but weeks of war had melted the edges of their rivalry into something more complicated. Something akin to friendship. Lyanna had named him second-in-command despite the grumbling of her officers. Even now, the decision felt strange on her tongue, but she couldn¡¯t deny his effectiveness. No one knew how to fight in harsh conditions like the Blackthorns. And though she would never admit it aloud, she valued his advice. Alric exhaled slowly, the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips as if sensing her thoughts. Annoying bastard. The distant clang of steel rang out from the forest edge where their soldiers drilled, and she straightened, letting her gaze linger on the horizon. Behind her, the grinding hum of gears and shifting metal broke the stillness. She sighed. "Kael," she said without turning. Sure enough, Kael and his bonded dragon, Titanis, emerged from the haze. Titanis was a small thing¡ªby dragon standards¡ªbut his mechanical body gleamed in the ashen light, brass and silver plates interlocking with an almost organic grace. The hatchling¡¯s wings unfurled briefly, scattering a plume of ash before folding neatly against his sides. Kael¡¯s pale eyes, haunted and sharp, flicked between her and Alric. He crossed his arms, his usual scowl etched deeply into his features. The boy had been surviving alone in the woods with only Titanis for company when Alric found them. Same age as her and Alric¡ªseventeen¡ªbut he carried himself like someone much older. Survival did that to a person. ¡°Your plan,¡± Kael said, cutting straight to the point. ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡± Lyanna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Here we go again. ¡°Good morning to you too, Kael.¡± ¡°I¡¯m serious.¡± He stepped closer, his voice low but firm. ¡°You want to use Titanis against the Devourer. I won¡¯t let you.¡± Alric opened one eye, clearly listening but staying silent for now. Lyanna rose to her feet, brushing ash from her tunic. ¡°I understand your concern¡ª¡± ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡± Kael¡¯s gaze hardened. ¡°He¡¯s just a hatchling. You can¡¯t throw him into battle like a weapon.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°He¡¯s not just a hatchling,¡± she countered, stepping toward him. ¡°He¡¯s a dragon. And dragonfire is our best chance against the Devourer. Divine fire is the only thing that creature fears.¡± Kael¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°There has to be another way.¡± ¡°There isn¡¯t.¡± Her voice softened, though her tone remained firm. ¡°The Devourer¡¯s corruption is otherworldly. Nothing mortal can kill it. Except dragonfire.¡± Kael glanced down at Titanis, who chirped softly, nuzzling his leg. The bond between them was undeniable, fierce and protective. She understood his reluctance¡ªshe truly did¡ªbut there wasn¡¯t time for hesitation or sentiment. ¡°I won¡¯t let him get hurt,¡± Kael said after a long pause, his voice quieter now. ¡°Not for this.¡± Lyanna sighed. That argument again. She folded her arms. ¡°Kael, you won¡¯t be on the front line. You and Titanis will stay at the back, near the healers. You¡¯ll only move when we¡¯ve forced the Devourer into position.¡± ¡°And if something goes wrong?¡± His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear behind his anger. ¡°What if he¡¯s not ready?¡± Lyanna took a step closer, lowering her voice. ¡°That¡¯s a risk we all take, every day we march toward that thing. You think I¡¯m not afraid? You think Alric isn¡¯t? We all are. But we can¡¯t let fear rule us.¡± Kael met her gaze, something fierce and wounded in his eyes. ¡°He¡¯s all I have.¡± Lyanna¡¯s expression softened, and for a moment, she let herself feel the weight of his words. She placed a hand on his shoulder. ¡°And we¡¯ll protect him. Together.¡± Titanis chirped again, fluttering his wings as if sensing the tension ease. Kael exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly. ¡°I¡¯m trusting you,¡± he said quietly. Lyanna nodded. ¡°And I won¡¯t betray that trust. But trust me on this¡ªTitanis is stronger than you think.¡± Kael glanced at the dragon, who stared back with wide, knowing eyes. After a long pause, he gave a reluctant nod. Alric finally spoke, his voice calm and steady. ¡°We fight together, or we die alone.¡± Kael shot him a look but said nothing. Lyanna saw the shift in his posture, the way he squared his shoulders again. "Fine," Kael said. "But if anything happens to him¡ª" ¡°It won¡¯t,¡± Lyanna cut in, her tone final. ¡°We¡¯ll make sure of it.¡± As Kael turned back toward the forest, Titanis trailing at his side, Lyanna exchanged a glance with Alric. ¡°He¡¯ll come around,¡± Alric said. ¡°He has to.¡± Because the Devourer wouldn¡¯t wait. Captain Davor approached, his steps deliberate, his posture as rigid as the steel of his armor. He stopped a few paces away and bowed stiffly. ¡°Commander, the soldiers have finished their warm-up drills and stand ready to advance.¡± From beneath his cloak, Davor produced a small leather pouch and handed it to her. The bag of ash was cool to the touch, a weight that felt oddly comforting. She looped it onto her belt, her mind already turning to the practicalities of her ash magic. It would prove useful in the dense woods ahead. Lyanna glanced down at the training grounds. The troops had fallen into neat formations, their ashen cloaks blending into the landscape, spears and shields steady in their hands. Her eyes shifted to Davor¡¯s outstretched hand¡ªa small leather pouch filled with fine, black ash. She took it wordlessly. It would fuel her ash magic when the time came. ¡°Good.¡± She tied the pouch to her belt. ¡°Send the Emberhawks ahead.¡± Davor¡¯s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile she¡¯d ever seen from the stoic captain. The Emberhawks¡ªa special strike force of warriors and mages trained to rush enemy positions¡ªhad been his pride and joy. They were fast, ruthless, and perfectly suited to the cursed terrain ahead. ¡°They¡¯ll burn out the dens the scouts found,¡± Lyanna continued. ¡°No monster leaves those woods alive.¡± Davor bowed. ¡°It will be done.¡± As he marched off, Alric stood, stretching out his arms before grabbing his armor. The dark plates gleamed faintly under the gray ligh. ¡°You think he¡¯ll follow orders?¡± Alric asked, strapping on his vambraces. ¡°Davor has a mind of his own nowadays.¡± ¡°He¡¯ll follow,¡± Lyanna said, shrugging on her own breastplate. The runes embedded along its surface glowed faintly as they adjusted to her. ¡°He knows what¡¯s at stake.¡± Below, she watched as a squad of Emberhawks split off from the main force, slipping silently into the woods. The army itself began to break into smaller units of four, each group covering a different path into the cursed forest. The formations spread wide, stretching from their position toward the ruins of Greenhaven. Kael¡¯s hometown. The once-prosperous town was a desolate husk now, overrun by twisted beasts. Alric tapped the back of her breastplate, signaling he was ready to move. She turned, fumbling with her gauntlets. The enchanted armor adjusted itself, but her mangled fingers still struggled with the clasps. She waved off an aide who approached to help, forcing herself to manage alone. ¡°I¡¯m heading in,¡± Alric said, adjusting the strap of his sword belt. ¡°You should, too.¡± ¡°I will,¡± she replied, slipping her gauntlets on at last. She flexed her fingers, feeling the hum of magic settle over her hands. They marched together toward the edge of the woods, where shadows twisted unnaturally, waiting to swallow them whole. ¡°Think we¡¯ll make it through?¡± Alric asked. Lyanna¡¯s gaze hardened. ¡°We have to.¡± Chapter 30: The Never-ending Battle Chapter 30: The Never-ending Battle The stink of blood clung to Lyanna¡¯s armor like a second skin. Her sword arms trembled, not from fear, but from exhaustion. Day after day, they hacked their way through the horde ¡ª creatures that never tired, never broke, and never stopped. It felt endless. A tide of claws and fangs crashing against the fragile wall of her soldiers. The sky above the twisted forest hung gray and heavy, choking out the sun. Shadows twisted in the underbrush, and even the trees seemed hostile, their gnarled branches clawing at the soldiers as they passed. The air reeked of rot and decay, a constant reminder that death was never far behind. Lyanna wiped the blood from her cheek with a gauntleted hand. It didn¡¯t matter. More would take its place before long. She scanned the line, eyes darting from soldier to soldier. Most of them were still standing ¡ª barely. Their armor dented, their shields chipped. But their eyes¡­ their eyes told the truth. Hollow. Haunted. How many days had it been since any of them had slept through the night? ¡°Alric!¡± she called over the clash of steel and the guttural growls of the monsters. Her voice was hoarse from barking orders. Alric, blood-spattered and breathing hard, stumbled to her side. His sword dripped with black ichor. His eyes locked with hers, filled with a grim determination that mirrored her own. ¡°We need to fall back and regroup.¡± Lyanna shook her head. ¡°We can¡¯t. If we pull back now, the sentries will be exposed. They¡¯ll be torn apart, and the horde will push right back through everything we¡¯ve fought for.¡± Her jaw clenched. ¡°We hold. No matter what.¡± She turned to the nearest group of soldiers ¡ª barely a dozen left in that squad. ¡°Steady your line! No one dies here today.¡± One of the younger men, barely out of boyhood, gave her a desperate look. ¡°We can¡¯t keep this up, Captain. We¡¯re outnumbered. We¡¯re tired.¡± ¡°I know,¡± she said, softer this time. ¡°But we don¡¯t have a choice.¡± They pressed on.
The horde never came all at once. It was relentless, yes, but insidious ¡ª wearing them down through constant skirmishes, always lurking just beyond the tree line. Every time the soldiers thought they had a moment¡¯s peace, the beasts would come again. Slithering shapes with too many eyes. Creatures with gnashing teeth and bone-like talons. Each one a nightmare pulled from the dark corners of a child¡¯s imagination. Lyanna fought like a woman possessed. She darted ahead of the line whenever it faltered, her sword flashing in the dim light. She took blows that would have felled lesser warriors, trusting in Scarlet¡¯s magic to knit her flesh back together. Pain was irrelevant. Her body was just a tool ¡ª a shield between her soldiers and the monsters. She had already lost too many under her command once before. She would not let it happen again. A scream pierced the air. Lyanna spun toward the sound, sprinting across the muddy ground. One of the sentries had been pulled down, a beast with jagged claws tearing at his chest. Without hesitation, Lyanna plunged her blade into the creature¡¯s skull. It spasmed, then went limp. The soldier gasped for breath, clutching his wound. ¡°C-Commander¡ª¡± ¡°Hold still,¡± she ordered, her voice steady despite the chaos. Kate knelt beside the man, her hands glowing with soft, golden light as she began the healing process. Lyanna nodded to her. ¡°Keep him breathing.¡± Kate glanced up, her face pale and weary. ¡°You can¡¯t keep taking these risks, my lady. You¡¯re not invincible.¡± ¡°I¡¯m expendable,¡± Lyanna replied. ¡°They aren¡¯t.¡± Kate¡¯s eyes hardened. ¡°That¡¯s not true, and you know it.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Before Lyanna could argue, another wave of beasts crashed through the trees. There was no time for talk. Just more blood to spill.
Nightfall brought little relief. They made camp in the heart of the forest ¡ª if the hastily fortified position could be called a camp. Sentries were posted in shifts, patrolling the perimeter with torches and sharp eyes. But even the most vigilant watch couldn¡¯t keep the nightmares at bay forever. The soldiers slept in fitful snatches, haunted by the sounds of the forest ¡ª the snap of twigs, the rustle of leaves, the distant growls that never quite faded. Lyanna rarely slept. She would sit by the dying fire, sharpening her blades, the rhythmic scrape of stone on steel a steady counterpoint to the chaos that surrounded them. Alric often joined her during these restless nights. He would sit in silence for a time before speaking, his voice low and measured. ¡°You can¡¯t keep pushing them like this.¡± Lyanna didn¡¯t look up. ¡°They¡¯ll push through.¡± ¡°They¡¯re human. Not machines.¡± His tone softened. ¡°You¡¯ve been running yourself ragged, too.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not.¡± He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion. ¡°We need to hold. Give them time to rest.¡± ¡°We will,¡± she said, her voice cold and unwavering. ¡°Once we reach the ridge. Not before.¡± ¡°And if someone breaks before then?¡± Lyanna finally met his gaze. Her eyes were hard, unyielding. ¡°Then I¡¯ll hold the line myself.¡± Alric gave her a sidelong glance. ¡°Still, You¡¯re pushing them too hard.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have another choice. We¡¯ve made it this far. If we pull back now, we lose everything. We¡¯ll hold this ground until we¡¯re ready to strike at the Devourer.¡± ¡°And if the Devourer strikes first?¡± Lyanna finally paused, her grip tightening on the hilt of her blade. ¡°Then we fight. Like we¡¯ve been doing.¡± Alric leaned back, staring up at the black sky. ¡°I hope you¡¯re right.¡±
Lyanna woke from a fitful sleep, her heart pounding as if she had been running. The dream was already slipping away ¡ª flashes of faces, familiar yet distorted, screaming. The scent of smoke and iron clung to her senses even as she blinked back to the present. Her hand instinctively sought Scarlet¡¯s hilt, her mangled hand tightening around the grip as she steadied her breathing. While her other hand found Ember¡¯s solace. A frantic commotion outside her tent tore her fully awake. ¡°Commander!¡± A camp aide rushed in, wide-eyed and pale. ¡°There¡¯s been an ambush.¡± Lyanna bolted upright, her exhaustion forgotten. She didn¡¯t ask questions, just grabbed her armor and weapons. Moments later, she was pushing her way through a growing crowd of soldiers gathered near the camp¡¯s edge. The scene before her was grim. A mangled creature lay in the center of the clearing, its body riddled with arrows and scorch marks from spells. But it wasn¡¯t the monster that held her gaze ¡ª it was the bodies of her soldiers strewn around it, their blood dark against the earth. ¡°Group Seven,¡± Alric murmured beside her, his voice low with anger and grief. ¡°All of them. Even Faen and Morra.¡± The names hit her like a hammer. Faen, their mage, who always laughed even in the face of despair. Morra, the priest who had tended to wounds with tireless devotion. Now both lay among the dead, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing. Lyanna dropped to one knee beside Faen¡¯s body, her gauntleted hand trembling as she closed his eyes. She forced herself to speak, her voice hollow. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°Beast slipped through the perimeter,¡± a captain said, his face ashen. ¡°They fought hard, but¡­¡± ¡°They shouldn¡¯t have had to,¡± Lyanna snapped, her anger cutting through the sorrow like a blade. ¡°Where were the sentries?¡± The sergeant faltered. ¡°We¡ªwe were spread thin. They must¡¯ve¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s on me,¡± Lyanna said, standing. Her jaw clenched tight enough to crack. ¡°I should have strengthened the patrols. I should¡¯ve¡ª¡± ¡°Lyanna,¡± Alric said softly, but she waved him off. ¡°This is my failure,¡± she growled, her voice low and venomous. She turned back to the remaining soldiers, her expression hardening. ¡°See to the dead. Burn the creature¡¯s carcass. I don¡¯t want any trace of it left.¡± The soldiers moved with grim efficiency, their movements heavy with the weight of loss. Lyanna remained where she stood, watching as Faen and Morra were carried off alongside their comrades. Her fingers tightened around Scarlet and Ember. She wouldn¡¯t forget this. She couldn¡¯t.
It took them ten days to push through the cursed forest. Ten days of blood, sweat, and sleepless nights. By the time they reached their final position ¡ª a narrow ridge overlooking the beast¡¯s lair ¡ª the soldiers were shadows of themselves. Hollow-eyed, gaunt, and battered. But alive. They¡¯d made it. Lyanna stood at the edge of the ridge, looking down at the dark, festering pit below. This was where the Devourer made its nest. This was where the nightmare would end. Behind her, the camp buzzed with quiet activity. Soldiers patched their wounds, mended their gear, and shared what little food they had left. The atmosphere was tense ¡ª a fragile calm before the storm. Alric approached, standing beside her. ¡°We¡¯ll hold for a day or two, like you said. Let everyone recover.¡± Lyanna nodded, her gaze never leaving the pit. ¡°We¡¯ve bought ourselves a brief reprieve. We¡¯ll need every second of it.¡± ¡°And after that?¡± Her lips curled into a grim smile. ¡°Then we end this.¡± Chapter 31: The Endless Hole Chapter 31: The Endless Hole The stench of blood and sweat was thick in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of unspent magic. Kael stood at the ridge''s edge, his sharp eyes fixed on the battlefield below, his hand resting on Titanis¡¯s mechanical body. The tiny dragon hatchling let out a low rumble, more felt than heard, as if it too could sense the brewing storm. The soldiers surged forward in tight ranks, well-trained but far too few against the teeming mass of horrors spilling from the depths of the ridge. Teeth glinted in the twilight, claws raked the earth, and the air rang with the clash of steel and the guttural cries of dying men. The healers, mages, and priests stood idle behind him, their energy coiled and waiting. They knew their power would be needed for something far worse than this skirmish. Kael¡¯s mouth was a thin line as he scanned the fray. Lyanna and Alric stood out like beacons, their movements fluid, untiring, defying the exhaustion that pulled the others down. He didn¡¯t need to see the glint in Lyanna¡¯s eye or the faint shimmer around Alric to know: they were holding back, their magic simmering beneath their skins like a too-hot forge. "Not yet," Kael murmured, stroking Titanis¡¯s fur. The beast huffed in agreement, its amber eyes fixed on the dark mouth of the cave at the heart of the ridge. Then it came. The cave disgorged the Devourer, and the world seemed to still for one breathless moment. It was an eldritch nightmare, an oozing, amorphous titan that defied logic. Its surface shimmered, a translucent nightmare of flesh that seemed to devour light itself. Eyes blinked and disappeared across its form, and when it moved, it did so with a sickening, fluid grace. Kael¡¯s stomach churned, but he kept his expression flat. He couldn¡¯t afford fear now, not with the army faltering. Around him, the priests began to chant, their voices rising in a reverent dirge. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as their pleas to the Father and the Mother filled the air. Golden light spread across the ridge like a second dawn, flowing down to the soldiers below. The wounded stood straighter, their breaths coming easier, and the lethargy that had clung to them like chains shattered. The mages joined in, their hands weaving intricate patterns as they pulled power from the elements. The air crackled with fire and ice, the ground shuddered with the force of earth¡¯s fury, and torrents of wind swept through the horde of creatures that surged from the Devourer¡¯s form. The soldiers found renewed strength in the chaos, cutting down the beasts with ruthless efficiency. But the Devourer... It did not falter. Lyanna was the first to meet it, her twin blades singing as they carved into the gelatinous mass. Each strike left a gash that oozed black ichor, but the creature¡¯s flesh flowed like a tide, sealing the wounds almost as fast as they were made. Alric flanked it, his sword wreathed in slicing winds that cleaved chunks from the beast. His magic whirled around him, a storm in human form. Kael watched with growing unease. Each strike diminished the creature¡ªslightly. It grew smaller, its bulk shrinking as if bleeding away its essence. Yet it was not just losing; it was gaining. Its attacks grew sharper, its movements quicker, and the shadows it cast seemed to deepen with each passing moment. Lyanna fought like a demon, her strikes precise and unyielding, while Alric danced around the beast with deadly grace. But Kael¡¯s eyes weren¡¯t on the battle¡ªthey were on the Devourer¡¯s core. It was feeding. Even as they hacked and tore at it, even as the soldiers rallied, even as the mages unleashed a torrent of destruction upon its horde, the Devourer was consuming something far more vital. The very essence of life and magic itself seemed to flow into it, and Kael could only hope that Lyanna and Alric had noticed it too.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Because if they hadn¡¯t... they were already lost.
Kael¡¯s breath quickened as his gloved hand tightened around the smooth wood of the crossbow. The metal bolt gleamed in the pale light, a promise of death locked and ready. He shoved the last rune-carved plate into his pouch, its etched lines glowing faintly with his connection to Titanis. Bonding with the tiny dragon had unlocked something in him¡ªsomething fierce, potent, and untamed. The runes, once painstaking to craft, now felt like second nature. ¡°Move!¡± Kael barked, sprinting down the ridge. Kate was already ahead of him, her staff a blur of motion as she deflected a jagged claw aiming for a fallen soldier. The earth shuddered with each blow Titanis struck behind them, the tiny dragon moving with the ferocity of a creature ten times its size. Kael fired. The bolt whistled through the air, finding its mark in the twisted skull of a beast. It collapsed in a heap of writhing limbs, twitching in death. Without pausing, Kael hurled one of the rune plates forward. It hit the ground with a sharp clink just as he channeled a sliver of essence through his bond with Titanis. The plate flared to life, and a wall of earth erupted from the ground, blocking the path of another monster. The roar of battle behind him was muted¡ªhis focus was ahead, where Kate darted like a shadow, her movements precise and unrelenting. Titanis followed, claws skittering on stone as the dragon kept pace. Every movement between them felt natural, bonded. ¡°Keep up, Kael!¡± Kate called over her shoulder, her tone sharp, edged with adrenaline. Kael didn¡¯t answer, instead raising his crossbow and loosing a bolt. The projectile whistled through the air and found its mark: the eye of a hulking beast. It went down with a gurgling screech, its weight crumpling the earth beneath it. Kael was already moving, pulling a rune-etched plate from his belt and flinging it toward another monster that charged their path. The plate landed, glowing with searing light as it activated. The air sucked in as a wall of fire, cut off the creature''s charge. Titanis lunged forward, tearing into another horror with surgical precision. The beast reared up, towering over the small dragon, but Titanis was faster. Kael felt the impact in his chest, the bond thrumming with shared power as Titanis ripped out the monster¡¯s throat. Kate knelt beside the cluster of fallen soldiers, her hands glowing with healing light. Kael stood over her, crossbow raised, while Titanis circled the group, guarding them from the encroaching horde. Together, they were a seamless unit¡ªKael¡¯s bolts struck true, his rune plates conjuring barriers and elemental traps, while Titanis moved with the deadly efficiency of a predator born to hunt. ¡°Done,¡± Kate said, standing abruptly. ¡°Let¡¯s¡ª¡± The ice spear came out of nowhere. It was so sudden, so clean, that Kael didn¡¯t understand what had happened at first. One moment, Kate was there¡ªalive, breathing, moving. The next, her body jerked violently as the spear pierced her skull, entering through her left eye and emerging through the back of her head. The light in her hands flickered and died as she crumpled to the ground. Kael froze. His breath caught, his pulse roaring in his ears. For a heartbeat, all he could do was stare at her body, his mind refusing to accept what his eyes saw. ¡°No,¡± Kael whispered, his voice breaking. Kate crumpled forward, her staff clattering to the ground. Kael¡¯s world narrowed to the sight of her lifeless form, the blood pooling beneath her. Titanis roared, but it wasn¡¯t the sound of triumph. It was a wail, a primal, guttural cry of loss and fury. Kael¡¯s head snapped up, his vision swimming with rage. The ice mage stood on a nearby ridge, their cloak billowing in the wind. One of their own. Someone who was supposed to be fighting beside them. His chest heaved as his mind spiraled. He¡¯d seen this before¡ªtoo many times. Greenhaven burning. His mother¡¯s. His sister¡¯s. His father¡¯s broken form beneath the rubble of their home. Everyone he loved died. Everyone. Titanis nudged his shoulder, a low whine rumbling from the beast. The bond thrummed with unspoken emotion, and Kael felt the weight of Titanis¡¯s presence pressing against the edges of his mind. Grief turned to anger, anger to resolve. Kael stood, his grip on the crossbow tightening until his knuckles turned white. The mage would pay. Kael¡¯s hand trembled as he loaded another bolt. But this one wasn¡¯t for the beasts. It wasn¡¯t for the Devourer. This one was for the traitor on the ridge. Titanis¡¯s eyes locked with his, the bond between them surging with raw emotion. The dragon snarled, as if to say: Do it. ¡°Stay with me, Titanis,¡± he murmured, his voice cold and steady. The hatchling growled in response, a predator¡¯s promise. Kael turned toward the ridge, his path clear. The battle raged on around him, but it was distant now, irrelevant. He would find the mage. And he would end them. Chapter 32: Embers Of Hope Chapter 32: Embers Of Hope Lyanna gritted her teeth, a curse buried deep in her throat as the beast¡¯s amorphous appendages lashed out once more, slamming into her with relentless force. The blows were like a drumbeat against her body, each strike heavier than the last. The sticky tendrils clung to her armor, dragging her closer to its oozing mass. Ember, help me... she thought, desperation threading through her mind. Her legs burned with borrowed power as she channeled the fire spirit¡¯s essence into her muscles. The runes along her twin blades ignited, casting flickering shadows across the battlefield. With a roar, she launched herself into the air, soaring higher than any human had a right to, and landed in a roll that sent dirt and uprooted grass spraying in her wake. Her chest heaved as she regained her footing, her body aching in places she couldn¡¯t name. The beast loomed before her, its shifting form undulating with a malevolent rhythm. The creature lunged, an amorphous mass of seething darkness and glinting teeth, its bulk rippling with stolen magic. A massive limb swept toward her¡ªa wall of grotesque, glistening flesh. Lyanna didn¡¯t think, she just reacted, channeling Ember¡¯s power into her legs. The sword¡¯s runes blazed to life, propelling her skyward in an explosive leap. The air screamed around her as she twisted mid-flight, slamming both blades into the creature¡¯s undulating form. Black ichor sprayed like molten tar, sizzling as it hit the ground. She landed in a roll, ignoring the jolt of pain in her ribs. The Devourer shrieked, a mind-rending sound that reverberated through her skull, but she forced herself to her feet. ¡°You¡¯re not taking me, not today,¡± she spat, wiping ichor from her cheek with the back of her hand. The dance continued. Each strike of her blades carved deep, and yet it was never enough. The Devourer surged forward, its bulk quivering with stolen energy. Lyanna grimaced as she felt it¡ªthe pull of the beast¡¯s feeding, the sickening way it drew from the battlefield around them. She thought of Katrina and Pyrope, her sisters, their laughter still echoing in her mind. If they were here, if they hadn¡¯t been lost to the Father¡¯s realm... Her moment of distraction cost her. A massive, block-like limb smashed into her side, the force of the blow throwing her across the battlefield. She hit the ground hard, pain lancing through her chest as ribs snapped like brittle twigs. She gasped for air, vision swimming, but there was no time to falter. The Devourer was already closing in, its shifting form oozing toward her like a tidal wave of despair. Lyanna gritted her teeth and summoned Scarlet¡¯s essence. The blade flared to life, its ruby glow pouring into her battered body. The pain receded¡ªnot gone, but dulled¡ªand the grinding sensation in her ribs eased as the bone knit itself back together. She forced herself to her feet, shaky but upright. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Alric. He was holding his own for now, his magic a cyclone of cutting winds and relentless strikes. But she could see it in his movements¡ªthe subtle slowing, the faltering edges of his storm. They were both running on fumes, and the Devourer was still too strong. Her mind raced. Ten minutes. Ten grueling minutes, and they had only managed to shrink the creature to half its size. The soldiers below were faring better now that the monster¡¯s numbers had dwindling. Every second felt like a lifetime, and Lyanna knew they couldn¡¯t keep this up. She tightened her grip on her blades, their hilts slick with sweat and ichor. You don¡¯t get to stop. Not until it¡¯s over. The thought was like a mantra, driving her forward as she charged the beast once more. Her duty was clear: hold its attention, take its hits, and buy them time. But deep down, a whisper of doubt coiled in her mind. Scarlet and Ember¡¯s essence were dangerously close to empty. Her body was a patchwork of wounds, her strength waning with every passing second. And the Devourer... it was learning. Still, she fought. The Devourer continued to lash at Lyanna, its grotesque appendages fluid yet impossibly strong. Her muscles screamed in protest as she dodged the first strike, only for a second limb to whip her side with bone-shattering force. Pain radiated through her ribs and shoulder, a hot, searing reminder that she couldn¡¯t afford mistakes. Scarlet, Ember, she cursed silently, the twin flames of her blades guttering low within her. Their essence had been her lifeline, but now they flickered like candles in a storm. She could feel the void closing in, the weariness gnawing at the edges of her focus. The runes along her weapons dimmed. ¡°Not yet,¡± she hissed, dragging a ragged breath into her lungs as she disengaged from the creature, stumbling over the torn ground. Each movement sent fire lancing through her side, but she gritted her teeth, channeling Scarlet¡¯s fading power to knit the worst of the damage. The battlefield stretched before her, chaos and ruin incarnate. The mages had turned their efforts toward the Devourer, hurling fireballs and jagged spears of ice that exploded against its gelatinous form. Yet the creature only seemed to absorb the destruction, its wounds knitting faster than they could carve them. Lyanna¡¯s gaze snapped back to the Devourer, now fourth its original size but far more dangerous. Its attacks had grown calculated, precise. She couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it was toying with them, savoring the inevitability of their defeat. I can¡¯t die here. The thought burned through her exhaustion like a flare. Not before this thing dies first. The monster turned its shifting mass toward Alric, and Lyanna¡¯s heart clenched. He was holding his own for now, his wind-blade slicing tendrils with precision. But the storm surrounding him was faltering, the edges fraying as his strength waned. No. Not him. Not yet. Her legs moved before her mind could catch up. She surged forward, slamming into the Devourer¡¯s side with a desperate, reckless fury. Her blades flashed, carving deep into the pulsing, translucent mass, and ichor sprayed like a blackened tide. The runes on Ember flickered brighter for an instant as she poured the last dregs of the blade¡¯s essence into her strikes. ¡°You don¡¯t get him,¡± she snarled, teeth bared as the monster screeched, its many mouths opening in a discordant wail. It lashed out, and Lyanna barely had time to raise her sword before a massive appendage smashed into her, throwing her to the ground. Her head struck the dirt, and stars exploded in her vision. ¡°Lyanna!¡± Alric¡¯s voice cut through the din, but she couldn¡¯t respond. Blood filled her mouth as she spat and forced herself to her knees, every breath a struggle. The Devourer loomed over her, its shadow stretching impossibly far as it prepared to strike.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. The battlefield roared with chaos as Lyanna dragged herself upright. Every nerve in her body screamed to stop, to give in, but her will burned brighter than the pain. She spat a mouthful of blood and forced her legs to move, weaving through the monster¡¯s whipping tendrils. Each strike of her blades cut deep but did little to halt the Devourer¡¯s relentless advance. It was shrinking, yes, but at a terrible cost. Its core was still buried beneath layers of writhing, regenerating flesh, and the mages¡¯ spells seemed only to fuel its twisted evolution. The beast let out another mind-rending screech as it reared back, a glob of its oozing mass splitting off with a grotesque slurp. The smaller blob hit the ground with a sickening thud, immediately forming into a smaller, faster version of itself. Lyanna cursed under her breath as the new creature darted toward the mages, its appendages lashing out with lethal precision. ¡°Focus fire on the split!¡± she screamed, her voice raw. A handful of mages turned their attention to the smaller blob, their spells hammering it with relentless force. The creature shrieked, its form flickering, but it continued its charge, undeterred. This wasn¡¯t working. They needed more firepower¡ªdragon fire. Kael and Titanis were supposed to be their trump card, but where were they? Lyanna¡¯s heart clenched with a mix of panic and fury. ¡°Kael!¡± she bellowed, her voice cutting through the cacophony. ¡°Titanis, we need you now!¡± No answer came. A tendril lashed toward her, and she barely managed to twist out of its path. The momentum carried her to a stumble, and she planted her blades into the ground to steady herself. Gritting her teeth, she scanned the battlefield, searching for any sign of Kael or his mechanical dragon. Her gaze swept past the soldiers and mages, past the writhing forms of the Devourer¡¯s spawn, to the ridge overlooking the field. There they were¡ªor at least, there Kael was. Standing atop the ridge, his body silhouetted against the sky, Titanis crouched low beside him, the dragon¡¯s metal body shimmering faintly in the light. But something was wrong. Kael wasn¡¯t commanding Titanis to rain fire upon the battlefield. Instead, he had his crossbow raised, aimed directly at someone. Lyanna squinted, her breath catching as she made out the figure of a mage, hands raised in surrender, standing a few paces from Kael. The realization hit her like a blow to the chest. What is he doing? The next instant, the mage crumpled like a ragdoll, a steel shaft protruding from her skull. He lifeless body, tumbling down the ridge, bouncing over boulders and trees. Fury surged through her, obliterating the exhaustion threatening to drag her down. ¡°You bastard!¡± she roared, tearing herself away from the battle. ¡°Alric, hold it off!¡± she shouted over her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll be back!¡± Her legs burned as she pushed herself toward the ridge, dodging tendrils and leaping over debris. The closer she got, the more the rage built within her. Kael was supposed to be their ace, their savior. If he was wasting time with whatever petty grievance this was, Alric and the others would die for it. As she reached the base of the ridge, she screamed again, her voice breaking. ¡°Titanis, fire! Gods, Kael, we need you!¡± But neither Kael nor the dragon reacted. They couldn¡¯t hear her over the din of the battlefield. Lyanna scaled the ridge in a furious sprint, her vision narrowing to the pair standing above. Her lungs burned, and every step felt like it would be her last, but she didn¡¯t stop. She couldn¡¯t stop. When she finally crested the top, her voice rang out again. ¡°Kael, you¡ª¡± Kael and the Titanis turned toward her, both startled. Titanis¡¯ mechanical eyes whirred, focusing on Lyanna as the dragon shifted its massive frame. The glow in its chest began to build¡ªa low, throbbing hum of power as its internal mechanisms prepared to unleash a torrent of fire. ¡°Finally,¡± Lyanna growled, her voice venomous. She turned back to the battlefield below, her heart sinking as she saw Alric. He was struggling, his storm faltering as the Devourer¡¯s tendrils wrapped around him, pulling him toward its core. He slashed wildly, but his strikes grew weaker with each passing second. ¡°No!¡± Lyanna screamed, her voice raw. ¡°Titanis, now!¡± The dragon¡¯s chest flared, and a moment later, it unleashed a searing column of fire. The flames roared across the battlefield, engulfing the Devourer and its spawn. The ichor-covered ground hissed and steamed as the monster shrieked, its mass writhing in agony. The fire burned bright, consuming the creature with an intensity that made Lyanna¡¯s heart hammer in her chest. And then, through the flames, she saw him. Alric. His body, charred and smoking, was dragged free of the monster¡¯s collapsing core. He stumbled, collapsing to his knees as he gasped for air, his armor scorched but intact. Her heart raced with an emotion she couldn¡¯t describe, the tightness in her stomach easing. But it wasn¡¯t enough to drown out the fury building inside her. She turned to Kael, her hand tightening around her blade¡¯s hilt. ¡°If you¡¯d been where you were supposed to be,¡± she snarled, her voice shaking with rage, ¡°Alric wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡± Lyanna¡¯s vision blurred with tears and fury as she turned back to Kael. For a moment, she saw only red. Her hand shot out, grabbing his collar, and she shoved him back toward the edge of the ridge. His heel caught on the uneven ground, and for a brief, horrifying instant, she thought she might actually push him over. ¡°You don¡¯t get to fail us!¡± she screamed, her voice cracking. ¡°You don¡¯t get to¡ª¡± Titanis let out a low, rumbling growl, and Lyanna froze, her breath hitching. Kael stared at her, wide-eyed, his hand gripping her wrist. The moment stretched on, the tension between them sharp enough to cut. Finally, Lyanna released him, shoving him back. ¡°I did what I had to do!¡± he snapped. ¡°You think I like this? Watching our people sabotage us from the inside? If I hadn¡¯t stopped them¡ª¡± ¡°Enough!¡± Lyanna¡¯s voice cracked, and she took a step back, her chest heaving. Her hands trembled as she lowered her blade. ¡°Just... enough.¡± For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Then Titanis let out a mechanical whine, its glowing eyes dimming as it folded its wings. The dragon¡¯s fire had done its work; the Devourer was nothing more than a smoldering, oozing crater in the earth. Lyanna turned away from Kael, unable to look at him any longer. Her chest heaving as exhaustion clawed at her limbs. Legs trembled beneath her, but she forced herself to remain upright, her gaze fixed on the devastation below. The fires that burned across the field illuminated the full scope of the carnage, and her breath caught in her throat. The flames from Titanis¡¯ final assault still licked the edges of the battlefield, painting everything in hues of molten orange and deep shadow. The Devourer¡¯s remnants sizzled and hissed, its grotesque form collapsing into a pool of viscous black ichor. The battlefield fell eerily silent for the first time in what felt like hours. But it was not the silence of relief or victory¡ªit was the silence of death. The ground was littered with bodies. Soldiers, mages, and monsters alike lay in twisted heaps, their blood pooling in the churned earth. Some corpses were barely recognizable, their features burned away or torn asunder by the Devourer¡¯s wrath. Others lay frozen in grotesque poses of fear or agony, their last moments etched into their lifeless faces. The acrid stench of death and burning flesh filled the air, choking her. Lyanna¡¯s eyes swept the field, her heart sinking further with every step her gaze traveled. She could see the remains of her army¡ªmen and women who had once followed her sister into battle with unshakable loyalty. Now they were gone, their vibrant banners trampled and torn. The mage lines, who had once hurled fire and ice with such ferocity, were decimated, their broken staffs and shattered wands scattered among their bodies. Her gaze landed on Alric. He was still alive¡ªbarely. He lay slumped against a jagged rock, his face pale and streaked with blood. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. Lyanna¡¯s heart twisted as she realized how close he had come to being another body on this cursed field. If Titanis had hesitated even a moment longer... ¡°Alric...¡± she whispered, her voice breaking. She took a step toward him but stopped, her feet rooted to the ridge as the weight of it all crushed her. Her gaze returned to the battlefield, to the sea of bodies and the smoldering remnants of the Devourer. The monster was gone, its threat eradicated, but the cost... The cost was too high. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, her swords clattering to the earth beside her. She buried her face in her hands, the weight of her failure pressing down on her like a physical force. She had survived, but at what price? The battlefield below was a graveyard, a monument to their hubris and desperation. In the distance, the first rays of dawn began to break over the horizon, casting the field in a pale, golden light. But the light brought no comfort. It only served to highlight the full extent of the horror¡ªthe lifeless eyes staring up at the sky, the blood-soaked earth, the shattered remnants of hope. Lyanna closed her eyes, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The embers of hope that had once burned within her had been snuffed out, leaving only ash in their wake.