Chapter 39 Dayn
DAYN
Imove liquidly through the academy’s corridors, barely registering the chaos around me, until I reach the center of the main courtyard, a space blasted open by dragonfire.
The sky above churns with scales and flame.
A section of the library tower is already burning, books and history turning to ash.
I close my eyes for a single, fleeting second, then let go.
The change is a violence I welcome, a breaking that makes me whole.
My bones scream as they lengthen and twist, snapping and reforming into a framework built for slaughter.
My skin gives way to the obsidian armor beneath, each scale locking into place with an audible click.
My spine elongates, a whip of serrated bone and muscle.
Wings, vast and leathery, tear from my back, unfurling to their full, magnificent span, catching the firelight from the burning sky.
My jaw cracks and extends, teeth lengthening into daggers.
Fire, hotter than any forge, builds at the base of my throat, a liquid sun begging for release.
The world shrinks, then expands, senses sharpening to an unbearable degree. I smell their blood, their fear, the scent of my own kin’s rage. I am no longer a man pretending to be a king. I am a dragon. And my fury is absolute.
I launch myself into the sky with a roar that challenges the thunder of the invasion, a declaration of war against my own blood.
The air whips past me, a cool balm on my super-heated scales.
Below, I see Ariella, hurriedly assisting darkblood medics to drag the injured behind a fallen statue.
She does not look up. She appears terrified of this sky, of the war her king has brought.
A part of me pities the younger dragon. The rest of me discards the thought as irrelevant.
I am a black comet in a sky of bronze. I slam into the first dragon, a younger male from House Meraxis, his surprise evident in his wide, panicked eyes.
I do not give him time to recover. My jaws clamp down on the base of his wing, and I tear, the sound of sinew and bone ripping apart a wet, satisfying scream in the air.
He plummets, spiraling and shrieking, a broken toy.
They wanted a war; they will get one.
Another comes at me, breathing a torrent of fire.
I don’t have time to register his identity.
It doesn’t matter. I bank hard, letting the flames wash over my back, the heat barely registering.
I whip my tail, the bladed tip catching him across the throat, just above his reinforced armor.
His head snaps back at an agonizing angle, and he drops from the sky like a stone.
I don’t slow. I tear straight through their formation—breaking wings, shattering bone, driving them apart by force alone. For a brief, brutal moment, the air empties around me. They see the obsidian and gold of the royal line. And they scatter.
Then I see him.
Arrynth, my youngest brother.
His dark scales, streaked with burnished gold, gleam in the firelight as he hovers near the burning library tower.
He looks magnificent. He looks lost. Our eyes meet across the chaos, and the battle around us seems to fall away.
The roars of dragons become a muted hum.
It is only us now, two brothers suspended in a hell not of their own making.
I fly toward him, slow, deliberate. I will not give him the excuse of an attack.
Brother, I project, my voice a rumble in his mind. This is madness. Anees has lied to you.
Pain flashes in his amber eyes—eyes that mirror my own—followed by a wave of furious betrayal. Liar! Kinslayer! You dare speak his name after what you did?
I did nothing! I roar back, a sound ripping from my throat. Father’s death was Anees’ work! He framed me! He has been playing us all!
You will not poison me with your treason! Arrynth bellows, and dives.
He strikes first, the young fool, a blur of obsidian and righteous fury.
His claws rake across my shoulder, seeking a gap in my scales.
The blow is glancing, but the intent behind it is a physical pain sharper than any talon.
He truly believes it. He believes I murdered our father.
The hit lands deeper than his claws ever could—and for a fraction of a second, it threatens to slow me.
But I cannot afford to grieve now. I meet his next charge, not with my teeth, but with my body, using my greater mass to slam him sideways.
We tumble through the air, a locked, spinning knot of rage and regret.
He bites at my throat; I twist away, my wing clipping the edge of a battlement, sending stone raining down into the courtyard below.
This is not a fight for dominance; it is a clumsy, desperate brawl between two siblings who do not want to land a killing blow.
I see my opening. As he comes at me again, fire building in his gullet, I fold my wings and drop, letting his momentum carry him over me.
I whip around, my claws finding purchase on his back, my weight driving him down.
We crash onto the flat roof of the main hall with a sound like the world cracking in two.
Stone dust and shattered tiles explode around us.
I pin him, one massive claw on his chest, my face inches from his.
Listen to me, I snarl, my exterior voice a low, wordless growl that vibrates through his bones. Think, Arrynth! When have I ever been a coward? If I had killed our father, I would have taken the throne and dared anyone to challenge me. I would not have fled like a thief!
I see the flicker of doubt in his eyes, a hairline crack in the certainty Anees has tried to build.
Anees did it, I press. He set it all up and bribed the witnesses. He wanted the throne, and he wanted me gone.
Arrynth stares up at me, his breath coming in ragged pants. The fury in his eyes is draining, replaced by something more akin to horror. No… He wouldn’t…
He would. He did.
His body slackens beneath my claw; whether he believes me or not, he knows there’s no use in continuing to fight me like this.
But it’s too late, in any case, he sends, his gaze going unfocused, as if seeing something beyond the burning sky. Even if… even if I believe you… it’s too late.
What do you mean? I demand, a coldness seeping into my veins.
Byzu, Arrynth chokes, the name a confession. Byzu contacted me. He wanted peace. He believed you. He wanted to broker a meeting between you and Anees, to find another way.
My heart seizes in my chest. The damn fool. Why didn’t he tell me?
But Anees… Arrynth continues. He’s been watching me.
Watching all of us. He trusts no one. He commanded me to lure Byzu out.
I… I had no choice, Dayn. He is the king.
The weight on his chest is like nothing compared to the guilt crushing his soul.
Anees took him. Arrynth’s bright eyes turn glassy.
He… He tortured him. Used compulsion magic, ripped Byzu’s mind apart for every scrap of intelligence he could find.
He knows everything, Dayn. He knows about the witch.
He knows about the Ides Trials. That’s why he’s attacking now in full force.
The world narrows to a single point of white-hot rage. The Ides. Of course. Anees sees the threat for what it is—and he’s trying to destroy it before it can take root. And he’s just turned on his own blood, again, to do it.
And it’s not just these, Arrynth adds, a tremor running through his dark scales. More are already here.
I follow his gaze, lifting my head to look past the burning tower, past the chaos of the initial assault.
Through the thick, acrid columns of smoke, I see them.
A second wave. These are definitely no disorganized rabble of youth.
These are silhouettes of war: larger, heavier, their wingbeats synchronized into a thunderous rhythm.
And at their head is a large dragon in gold-plated armor over his dark scales, his amber eyes scanning the battlefield through the haze.
Anees. Flanked by the hardened scales and jagged horns of his generals—the ones who stand with him while he steals my throne.
I release Arrynth, my focus shifted entirely above. This is about to get bloodier.