Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Cyprian
Cyprian stood at the air lock of Kaelen’s battered ship. The faint hiss of cooling systems and the low whine of engine distress faded behind him. According to exterior readings, the moon’s atmosphere was cold and biting. Above them, the crater walls rose steeply. The vast expanse of barren rock stretched out before him, illuminated only by the glow of the distant star.
Behind him, Fivra’s voice trembled as she grabbed his arm. “You can’t go out there, Cyprian. They’ll kill you.”
He turned. His dragon fire simmered just beneath the surface. His wings flared slightly. He placed a hand over hers, firm and steady. “They won’t kill me, my love. Not easily. They don’t know what they’re up against.” His voice was low, a growl edged with determination. “But you must stay here.”
Her aqua eyes searched his face, wide with fear and defiance. “You can’t ask me to just hide while you face them.”
“Fivra, listen to me.” His voice dropped, and he bent his head so their foreheads nearly touched. “The air out there is freezing. Your body won’t last long in this atmosphere. Kaelen’s ship has heat, shelter, the protection you need. I need you alive— safe . Do you understand me? You are my mate, my reason for everything. If I fail out there, at least I’ll know I shielded you from them.”
Her lips parted, trembling with the weight of his words, but she refused to look away. “And if you die out there, Cyprian? What of this ‘shield,’ then?”
Kaelen appeared at the entrance to the air lock. His arms were crossed and sharp golden eyes flickered between them. “Hate to interrupt your heartfelt moment, but he’s right, little one. You step out there, you’ll freeze.” He shifted his stance, his earlier smugness now replaced by a grim edge. “You’ve got maybe four liks before the Axis ships make landfall. If big red, here, wants to make a stand, let him. You staying alive isn’t up for debate.”
Fivra’s jaw clenched. Defiance simmered in her eyes like her own kind of fire. But she nodded reluctantly, her hands tightening into trembling fists at her sides. “If you’re not back,” she whispered, her voice breaking like glass, “I’m coming for you. I don’t care what’s out there. I won’t lose you, Cyprian.”
His heart twisted, molten and heavy with her words. “You won’t lose me,” he said. “I swear it on the fire in my veins, Fivra. Trust me.”
Before she could argue further, he cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks and he kissed her—fierce, deep, brimming with the promise of his return. For a moment, the cold of the moon, the looming threat of the Axis—all of it dissolved into the heat of their connection. He was forever hers.
When he finally pulled back, her hands had found their way to his chest, clutching him tightly, as if trying to anchor him to the ship. “Come back,” she whispered. “Promise me.”
“I promise to do everything in my power to come back,” he murmured. “Whatever it takes.”
With that, he turned. His wings unfurled to their full span as he stepped through the air lock door and, after sealing it behind him, he opened the outer hatch to the outside. He could feel Fivra’s gaze, even as the frigid air sank sharp teeth into his skin. He stepped fully onto the moon’s surface. Each step crunched over a thin crust of brittle frost. The atmosphere was thin and quiet, but the sound carried oddly—the distant sounds of the descending Axis ships were an eerie purr on the icy, desolate moon.
The Axis ships broke through the haze of the upper atmosphere like sleek predators. Their dark forms were stark against the pale, lifeless expanse of the moon. Their light beams cut through the gloom, illuminating the crater in sharp, bone-chilling clarity as they slowed to hover above the desolate landscape.
Cyprian scanned their formation—two transport carriers flanking a smaller, more intricate vessel that hummed with a menacing authority and dripped with the arrogance of power. It was designed for command. Its angular lines spoke of efficiency, strategy, and precision. And, very likely, devastating weaponry.
Cyprian strode out from the center of the crater and stopped on the surface in full view. His wings flared wide behind him. He knew their rich crimson was impossible to miss against the bleak backdrop of the moon. The surrounding air crackled with the heat his body radiated. He tilted his head, baring his teeth in a feral smirk as the Axis ships continued their descent.
“Come, then.” His claws flexed involuntarily. The brothel director felt very far away—like a different life entirely—as the primal instincts of his dragon roared. This side of him had always frightened him. He saw himself as civilized, in control. But the beast was anything but. It wanted to destroy. It wanted blood. “Let’s see what you’ve unleashed.”
From the Axis command ship, Cyprian watched a sleek transport pod detach and descend toward the frozen ground with deliberate slowness. Its lights flashed ominously. It hissed as it landed with sharp, mechanical sounds in the icy quiet. The pod door slid open, revealing a contingent of six Axis soldiers in their full, gleaming black armor. Their steps were precise and their formation flawless as they fanned out in a calculated arc. Plasma weapons hummed faintly in the bitter cold.
And then he appeared—the unmistakably metallic figure of Xryvos, the Axis inspector Cyprian had faced in Erovik. His cold, metallic face glinted faintly in the light of the search beams as he stepped forward, flanked by two of his armored subordinates. He carried himself with the same rigid arrogance as before. This time, his sharp, glowing eyes showed a flicker of satisfaction. He thought he’d won.
“Director Cyprian.” Xryvos’ voice was smooth with its metallic edge. “How noble of you to make this so convenient for us. For an enemy of the Axis, you lack a certain…elusiveness. Cannot be helped, I suppose. Your brain was implanted with a tracking bug before you were installed as Erovik’s director.”
Cyprian tilted his head ever so slightly. So, he was the one who had made it possible for the Axis to find them. Him . That meant it was on him to get Fivra and Kaelen out of this. He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he let his silence draw out and fill the space between them. There was not much to say, anyway. He had no more words to waste on this pawn of the Axis.
Cyprian spread his crimson wings wide, like a silent warning against the desolate cratered backdrop. The gleaming Axis soldiers leveled their weapons toward him, but they seemed insignificant compared to the heat simmering beneath his skin. His blood thundered in his veins, molten and ancient and thrumming with instincts he had denied his entire life. This would be his first true transformation—the first time his dragon form would be unleashed onto a battlefield, into a fight, into the open—and yet, something within him knew exactly what to do.
He focused, allowing the fire inside to swell, to build. His silver gaze fixed on Xryvos, standing in the center of his guards. Cyprian’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. The shift began deep within him, like a fierce pull that snapped across his spine. It ignited a blaze of raw, unrelenting power.
“You shouldn’t have followed us,” Cyprian growled. His voice was roughened by the first signs of the shift. Clouds of smoke curled from his mouth and nose. His scales thickened. The membranes of his wings glowed faintly with veins of shimmering fire as the heat flowed from his body.
Xryvos sneered, unperturbed. “Pathetic posturing,” the inspector spat. “You are nothing more than a stubborn animal clinging to outdated instincts. The Axis will tame you just as they have the others.”
“Others?” Cyprian’s voice turned guttural, vibrating with something ancient and dangerous. He stepped forward, his towering frame trembling as raw power pulsed through him. His gaze locked onto the vile being before him. “You know nothing about what I am.”
Pain lanced through him, sudden and unyielding, as his dragon roared from within, demanding release. Cyprian stumbled forward, his wings twitching against the rapid changes overtaking his body. The pressure in his chest swelled, throbbing in time with the molten fire that coursed through his veins. His muscles coiled and twisted, straining against the transformation that consumed him.
“You will surrender the female,” Xryvos declared. His voice was cold and unrelenting, seemingly disinterested in the transformation taking place in front of him. “She is property of the Axis, as are you . Resistance is not just futile—it is suicidal.”
Cyprian let out a guttural growl, his body trembling under the strain of the transformation that felt as if it were ripping him apart. His fiery veins pulsed visibly beneath his skin. Scales—thick and crimson, glinting almost black around the edges—thickened and hardened in waves across his shifting frame. His body contorted. Sharp angles replaced smooth muscle. His claws extended into talons, vicious and gleaming like obsidian. Each movement brought searing pain, but it was a pain with purpose—a rebirth into his true form.
The cracks and pops of his shifting bones echoed. His wings flared to their full span, now massive enough to blot out the starlight above them. He threw his head back and a mix of agony and freedom roared through his throat as his jaw elongated into a razor-lined snout. His teeth gleamed like forged blades, steam curling from the corners of his mouth. His dragon fire swirled dangerously within like a furnace on the verge of eruption.
Xryvos faltered for the first time. His metallic frame stiffened as he took a step back. His eyes flickered with what could only be described as disbelief. “No,” he hissed under his breath. “You should not be able to—”
Whatever he was going to say was drowned out by Cyprian’s thunderous roar. The sound tore over the ground. Frosted debris rattled like shards of glass. The guards stumbled. Their disciplined formation broke as their weapons wavered in their hands.
The first of Cyprian’s heavy strides toward Xryvos cracked the ground beneath him. Ash and steam billowed around his enormous claws. His dragon eyes locked onto the Axis inspector with a singular purpose. He was no longer confined in a civilized form. His dragon fire threatened to consume everything in its path.
“Run,” one of the guards whispered, his voice cracked with panic.
And with that single, broken word, chaos erupted.
The Axis guards opened fire. Their plasma weapons charged and discharged in rapid succession. Bright streaks of blue energy sliced through the frozen air. Yet the volleys of light did little against Cyprian’s thick, fire-hardened scales.
He barely noticed the few bolts that struck true. Cyprian advanced, unflinching. Each step of his massive claws crushed rock and frost beneath their weight. His wings stretched wide, their crimson membranes illuminated with veins of flowing, molten fire. He inhaled deeply, the icy air hissing as it mixed with the searing heat radiating from his body. His chest expanded, a visual warning of what was coming.
Xryvos barked an order, sharp and tinged with fear. “Regroup! Do not break—”
Cyprian’s head snapped forward, and from his gaping maw erupted a stream of fire so fierce it turned the air to shimmering waves of heat. The inferno spread across the moon’s surface in a blinding arc, rolling over the Axis guards like an unstoppable tide. Plasma weaponry melted into slag and advanced armor designed to shield against extreme temperatures glowed red before crumpling under the onslaught.
Two of the soldiers collapsed, instantly melted into the roar of the flames. The others scrambled for cover, darting behind jagged outcroppings of rock that offered little refuge against Cyprian’s molten wrath. Xryvos staggered backward, his once-impeccable metallic form now twisted from heat and blackened with ash. He fell to the ground, finished. Cyprian didn’t know if he lived or died. The dragon’s only concern was eliminating the threat to his mate.
Cyprian’s flames receded, leaving trails of orange embers that floated ominously in the still air. The ground was scorched black. The frost evaporated, leaving behind steaming craters that hissed in protest. Cyprian raised his head and scanned the uneven battlefield with a chilling deliberation. There were still enemies hovering above. Deciding their next move, and there was little doubt what the Axis ships were planning to do.
Cyprian’s massive wings were damaged. He could feel the charred tears and rips as he unfurled them with a snap. They had to carry him, though. He had to fly. The glow of his molten scales dimmed slightly as he leaped into the frigid air. His claws left deep gouges in the ground as his powerful legs propelled him skyward. His tattered wings caught the faint, thin air of the moon’s atmosphere and carried him higher with each powerful beat. The crater and the remaining Axis soldiers below shrank rapidly as he climbed into the empty expanse above.
The Axis ships loomed ahead. Their sleek hulls cut shadowy silhouettes against the light. Cyprian’s dragon instincts flared. These ships had pursued him, pursued him through space and to this desolate moon, putting her in danger.
They had dared to threaten his mate.
The furnace within him roared to life as he climbed higher. His wings beat with relentless determination. As he neared the first of the ships, its forward cannons turned toward him. The massive barrels glowing faintly with the energy charging within. This would not be the weak stream of a plasma weapon, but something much worse. Cyprian’s dragon fire burned hotter in his chest. The urge to destroy was overwhelming.
The ship’s shields shimmered into view, a translucent barrier of glowing energy that extended like a dome around the vessel. Cyprian didn’t hesitate. He reared back mid-flight. His massive form suspended as he inhaled deeply. Molten heat spiraled through his body. His chest expanded, his golden veins glowing brightly as he summoned the inferno within.
And then he unleashed it.
A torrent of flame erupted from his jaws. The blinding light cast the sleek, dark hull of the ship into stark relief. Fire slammed into the shield, spreading over it like liquid sunlight. Heat distorted the atmosphere. It warped the light around the barrier, making it ripple under the force of his attack.
The barrier held—for now. Its luminescence flickered and pulsed under the assault, straining against his power. Cyprian could see the edges of the shield darkening, its glow dimming. But it wasn’t enough. The shield’s energy stabilized. Its flickering light solidified into a powerful barrier once again. It was as if the Axis had engineered these protective fields to combat his flames. After losing a penal colony to another Zaruxian, perhaps they had modified their ships to withstand his fire.
Cyprian roared in frustration. He banked sharply, thankful that his wings were holding together, despite the air whistling through the gashes. His wings sliced through the frigid air as he evaded a retaliatory volley of plasma fire from the ship’s cannons. Bright streaks of energy cut through the darkness, each one narrowly missing him as he twisted and turned with agility, despite his size.
The second ship joined the fray. Its weapons charged with a low hum that resonated ominously through the atmosphere. Cyprian turned his attention to it. His dragon fire still burned hot within him, but his dragon mind raced. He couldn’t break through the shields alone and the ships were adapting to his attacks. Their movements were more calculated. Their volleys were more precise.
He roared again, this time not out of fury but from sheer determination. He wouldn’t let them win. His mate was down there, on that barren moon, counting on him to keep her safe. He wouldn’t fail her. He couldn’t.
Diving toward the second ship, Cyprian flew to the left and unleashed another stream of fire. This time, he aimed not at the center of the shield but at its edge, where the energy field flickered faintly. The flames burned there, and for a fleeting moment, the shield shimmered as if struggling to recalibrate. But the ship adjusted, reinforcing its defenses with a surge of power that repelled his attack.
Above him, the lead ship—smaller but more intricately designed—had repositioned. Its cannons charged not with plasma but with a slow, steady buildup of energy. Cyprian could feel the shift in the air. It was a crackling tension that was unmistakable. They were preparing something stronger. Something designed not just to repel him, but to obliterate him.
He couldn’t give them the chance to fire. With a powerful beat of his injured wings, he climbed higher. From this vantage point, the barren moon below seemed impossibly small. Its craters and shadows were reduced to mere patterns against a backdrop of gray. But Fivra was down there—waiting for him. The thought ignited a fury inside him that was almost impossible to contain. He wasn’t just fighting for himself. He was fighting for Fivra. For her survival. For the fragile but unbreakable bond that now tethered them together.
The smaller, lead ship pulsed as its weapon reached full charge. Cyprian’s sharp silver eyes locked onto it, and in that instant, he made his decision. He hurtled toward the ship like a living comet, crimson wings tucked tight against his body as he arrowed straight for the energy source. His dragon rage burned hot and fierce, but even through the primal storm, his mind remained calculated. The Axis had underestimated him. He would make them regret it.
Suddenly, an explosion sent fragments of molten metal flying everywhere. Fear spiked through Cyprian as the brilliant flash of light exploded from the lead Axis ship. He faltered, fighting to stay aloft as a shockwave rippled through the air, upending his tenuous flight. Stunned, he scanned the scene. Where the formidable Axis ship once hovered, there was now nothing but smoke and scattered debris.
And then he saw it—a strange, angular ship emerging from the wreckage. Its black hull shimmered as it cut through the haze. It was unlike anything Cyprian had ever seen. Its design was both elegant and ominous, with long, jagged lines that gave it a predatory grace. Cyprian felt the heat of the ship’s energy radiating outward, powerful and unfamiliar. Whoever piloted this vessel was immensely skilled—or infinitely reckless.
The new arrival wasted no time. It surged forward, moving through the chaos with deadly precision, its weapon systems already back online. Twin beams of concentrated energy spiraled from its weapon bays, lashing out at the nearest Axis vessel. The translucent barrier around the Axis ship crackled as the new ship’s barrage slammed into its shield, sending ripples of energy cascading outward. Unlike Cyprian’s flames, however, this energy broke through. The Axis shields flickered, dimmed, and finally collapsed.
Cyprian’s dragon instincts flared as he worked hard to remain in place, suspended between shock and determination. This new ship had come to his aid, but who commanded it? He let out a roar. He wasn’t sure if they’d heard, but it didn’t matter. Whoever these beings were, they shared his goal—to destroy the Axis fools who had dared to follow him here.
Another Axis ship rotated sharply, turning its focus toward the intruder. Its cannons hummed as they released a volley of plasma fire. The bolts streaked through space, each one a searing blue, but the strange ship was quicker. It banked sharply to the left. The plasma streaks narrowly missed it. The new vessel retaliated without hesitation, unleashing another barrage of energy beams that seared into the Axis ship’s hull, now that its shields had failed. Sparks and debris erupted from the point of impact. The Axis ship shuddered violently as its systems faltered. Smoke spilled from the gaping wound torn into its side as it slid on a trajectory toward the surface, in a free fall to its doom.
Cyprian’s wings beat fiercely, propelling him toward the remaining Axis vessel—the one that had yet to engage. This ship, larger than its disabled twin, had been holding its fire, likely assessing the situation or waiting for its weapon systems to charge. But Cyprian would not give it the luxury of calculation. He was getting tired. His wings ached, but he dove toward the ship. His massive claws extended and his molten silver gaze locked on its shield projector array.
He opened his maw and unleashed a torrent of dragon fire. The blaze struck the shield and spread like liquid fury. He could see the edges of the shield flicker and fracture under his flames, each pulse of energy weaker than the last.
The new ship swooped in beside him, its energy weapons firing in calculated bursts that targeted the same points Cyprian had softened with his attacks. The coordinated assault was working. Together, they battered the Axis ship’s shields until, at last, they gave out. A shimmer, a pulse, and then the protective barrier collapsed entirely, leaving the vessel exposed.
Cyprian didn’t need further encouragement. With a roar that rattled his very core, he barreled toward the Axis ship. His massive form collided with its hull in a thunderous impact. Claws like blades tore through metal as though it were paper. He drove his talons into the exposed machinery, ripping apart weapon systems and communications arrays with ruthless precision. Fires erupted within the ship and fragments of its ripped hull fell to the ground below.
The Axis crew scrambled within their damaged vessel, their attempts to mount a defense growing increasingly erratic and desperate. But Cyprian was relentless. His molten scales deflected the few plasma bolts the crew managed to fire, but his dragon fire reduced their weapons to slag before they could pose a real threat. He was a force of nature—a living inferno fueled by purpose—but his strength was waning. The effects of his injuries were taking their toll.
Cyprian held out, through sheer force of will, until the final Axis ship careened toward the moon’s surface, defeated. Finished. The last of his energy deserted him and he tumbled through the cold, thin air toward the hard ground below.