Chapter 52
Adeafening ring blares through my head as I claw at the smoldering earth. Dragons screech and wings boom to the skies. Soot, ash, and burning leaves fall around me, lighting up the night in violent shades of gold.
“Isra? Roe?” Their names sear up my throat. My arms are stiff and coated in grime. Agony blooms in my right calf. What the fuck happened? Was that rune some sort of fire magic? Only Scorath offers that kind of blessing…Holy fucking hells.
“Tenebris? Niaxa?”
Pained roars pierce the flames. A hatchling darts between the crests of the fiery sea devouring the grounds, its little wings singed and burning.
I fight my own damned body and rise to my feet. Time stops as I take in the carnage.
My silver strands billow in the heat rising from the burning earth and an obsidian body lays all too still beside me. The Blightfang’s jaws are open, blood pooling between its fangs.
My chest cracks wide.
Another dragon is sprawled beside its partner, a hatchling tucked under what remains of its wings. I run to the little dragon and shove its mother’s weight off its body.
The hatchling nips at my fingertips. It’s alive…thank Astora. The relief is short-lived when I witness the terror in its eyes and the weak little growls pouring from its jaws.
“Go to the caves,” I cry, holding the hatchling’s head in my palms. It locks its gaze on me and I grit my teeth to keep from shattering. “Please, go now, you’ll be safe there.”
Its little, bloody body slowly shudders and a tear falls from my eyes as it glances toward its mother with a small whimper. If Saphine survived the explosion, I’m going to shred every inch of her skin until her insides feel the flames.
“Nova!” a voice cries through the wall of heat. I whirl around to see Isra, leaning beside Niaxa and her eggs.
Thank you, Morvayne, for sparing them.
Relief washes through me, but only for a breath when I take in the female Blightfang wounded and burning. Her tail took the brunt force of the shockwave, almost entirely eviscerated.
I dart through the decimation, without any feeling of the embers searing my skin, and rip off my cloak. “Where’s Roe?”
“She’s burnt up, but okay. She and Seralyn are looking for survivors. Nova…what the fuck happened?” Isra takes my cloak and starts extinguishing Niaxa’s scales.
“Saphine betrayed us. That’s what the fuck happened. I knew we couldn’t trust that conniving little bitch.” My fists curl. “Is Niaxa okay? And her hatchlings?”
The dragon huffs a pained growl but carefully raises her tail. I take inventory of her three eggs. The smallest of them has a web of fractures down its middle, but the others are seemingly unharmed. When my eyes land on the empty spot nestled between the obsidian eggs, my heart stops.
The guardian.
“Fuck, the Astralwing is gone.”
“Get Niaxa and her eggs to the caves. I’ll find Saphine,” I say, retrieving my lost blade from the rubble. “Then find Tenebris. Save as many of them as you can.”
Isra nods and takes my hand. “Make her pay, Nova. Make her fucking pay for this.”
Niaxa shakes away the last of the flames and unfurls her tail for Isra. I don’t waste time ensuring their safety. Isra won’t let anything happen to those hatchlings, nor to Niaxa for that matter.
Saphine is dead. There is no world where I allow her survival. Not after this.
I plummet back into the flames, like a demon reborn.
The heat gnaws at me, peeling away the last remnants of mercy. Smoke throttles the air, thick and gritty, but I charge through it. My ears ring with every heartbeat, every crackle of scorched earth.
There are so many lifeless dragons—hatchlings and adults alike. I can’t bring myself to linger too long on their ransacked bodies, sinking into the earth.
Jace wouldn’t have ever let this happen. If he was here, Saphine would be cold in the ground already and the Blightfangs wouldn’t have been fucking massacred like this.
I should have fought the faith we so blindly offered her, but it’s no use thinking like that now. Not when vicious, ruthless violence pumps through me, overwhelming my system until all I can see is blood.
I follow the hatching grounds’ perimeter, my body working at full force. We came from the skies, so Saphine wouldn’t know the route through the caves back into Shadow. If I needed a quick retreat, I’d trail the tree line…and if my destination was Smoke, I’d go east.
A smudge of blood stains a papery white tree, its canopy vibrant with flames.
There.
With a low, relentless breath, I plunge into the forest, following the droplets of crimson like a godsdamned hound.
Then, through the smog there are voices. Low, clipped, and frantic. I crouch behind a half-charred trunk. Silhouettes through the haze appear. Smoke soldiers in crimson cloaks emerge. In the shadows, there’s too many to count, their armor glinting in the moonlight like a sea of silvery steel.
Fuck. It’s the entire godsdamned army.
And there beside them is Saphine.
Her silver braid half burned, face smeared with soot. Opposite her stands a tall figure, donned in gold. He removes his helmet and places it at his boot and my body goes rigid. A flash of blonde reflects in the starlight.
“You’ll be paid handsomely for your work, Saphine Sunwither. Excellent job,” Samkiel Ashar’s voice rings louder than the rest, and my blood fucking ignites as the bastard clutches the Astralwing egg under his arm.
“I’ve done what you asked, now let me go,” Saphine spits. My stomach leaps to my throat, wild and feral for revenge.
“Consider this a debt paid.” Samkiel holds out a spidery hand. Saphine doesn’t take it, nor does she move from her spot.
“What are you going to do with the egg?” she asks, her eyes darting to the Astralwing.
“I don’t believe that’s any of your concern, Ms. Sunwither.” Samkiel lets out a sickly chuckle that boils my saliva and I clench the sword tighter in my hand. “But it won’t be a threat to our great faction anymore. That I can assure you.”
I memorize the soldiers one by one, counting thirty until the crowd of crimson cloaks fade into the shadows. I know there’s way too many to take on alone, but the scent of blood blurs the line of rationality.
My focus pinholes on Saphine and Samkiel. If I can take both of them out, then maybe the soldiers will retreat? Smoke’s military is trained on compliance and obedience. Without someone to sling orders, would they run? Do I care?
Right now, every fiber of my being is set on one goal—total, fucking carnage.
These fuckers slaughtered innocent dragons, desecrated a sacred land.
They threatened my friends. My breath hitches.
No, not just comrades…family. Isra, Jace, Tenebris, Niaxa, Sera, even Roe.
These people are a home I’ve built for myself.
I’ll be damned if I let Samkiel, or Saphine for that matter, tear us to shreds.
Tears stain my vision as I rise from behind the log, my resolve as steady as the thundering pulse in my veins.
Astora, Morvayne, if any of the gods are listening, I pray they hear my one last plea before I turn my back on them forever.
Then, I shut down my thoughts and slip into the dark chaos I’ve turned to time and again.
No fucking mercy.
No hesitation.
I am an extension of the blade I carry. Not a woman. Not a slave. Not a lover. Not a daughter.
My pulse steadies, my breath slows, and the world fades.
Then I charge.
Samkiel isn’t prepared for the attack, but Saphine catches a rustle of wind on the silent air. Her violet eyes meet mine and grow wide. Something like regret flashes in them. Good. Let her feel the guilt. The pain. The anguish.
Let her fucking drown in it.
I slam into her with enough force that the soldiers closest to her stumble back.
Startled shouts rise around us. Shields clank and swords draw, but Samkiel’s fist juts into the air, a delighted grin spreading over his mouth.
He wants to watch this play out, like we’re entertainment for his men. I don’t care if I’m made an actor in his fucked up performance. I don’t care that I’m flanked by a sea of soldiers. All I can taste is Saphine’s life slipping into the abyss.
Her blade screeches against mine as she barely manages to keep it pinned between us. Steel grinds like bones.
“Nova…” she breathes, voice cracking.
A growl erupts through me, uncaging the predator I keep so tightly chained.
I don’t let her speak.
I don’t let her beg.
“What happened to trusting your own faction?” I snarl, teeth bared. Every ounce of grief rises like a knife from my gut. “We never should have trusted you.”
Saphine tries to steady her stance, but she’s faltering already. Maybe from the explosions or the weight of her own guilt. Regardless, I steal every misstep and use it to my advantage.
Our blades clash, steel on steel.
Silver on silver.
Amethyst on amethyst.
“I wasn’t given any choice, Nova, please. You have to understand that? The debt I owe to Ashar…”
Our weapons clash against each other again with a ringing shock of force. She stumbles, breath catching, and I follow relentlessly.
I want her to feel hunted, cornered.
I want her to feel even a sliver of the carnage stained across the hatching grounds.
“I don’t give a fuck about your debt, Saphine.” I kick out my boot. Leather meets bone and she flinches away from the blow. I don’t hesitate, jabbing my sword toward her. The tip plunges into her shoulder and she staggers backward, falling to the barren earth.
“Please, Nova…”
“Begging is futile. You’ve sealed your fate.” I roll my neck and stalk toward her, fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of my sword. The glints of light in her eyes are unspoken pleas, but I refuse to see them.
She slides away from me, her boots stirring up ash and dust. Moonlit panic washes over her face, but I keep coming. She will die by my hand, regardless if we’re the last two Sovereign survivors on this godsdamned earth.
“You slaughtered hatchlings,” I spit.
She recoils like I’ve struck her with my fist. Her face contorts, shame and horror warring with the instinct to survive. “I had no choice…”
“You always have a choice!” The roar tears from my throat, rubbing me raw. I lunge again, faster than she expects.
Saphine twists, trying to hook my arm, but I wrench free and slam my hilt into her ribs.
A sharp, guttural gasp spills from her lips.
The soldiers form a loose perimeter around us, unsure whether to intervene or not, and Samkiel appears in my periphery, a smug smile curling on his lips. He still clutches the egg under his arm as he leans casually against his longsword.
That fucking smirk sends me into near-cosmic oblivion. He’s making a show of our battle, but I don’t care.
I’m coming for him next.
Saphine swings in a desperate arc at my head. The move is sloppy and nowhere near what I expected from a fellow mercenary and I dodge easily, snaring her braid. With a hard yank I tilt her forward and slam my knee into her stomach. She folds on impact and retches up air.
“Was the payout worth this?” Her silver strands slip through my fingers as I gesture to the burning world around us, the scent of incinerated scales and scorched, brittle leaves heavy in the air.
Her eyes flick to Samkiel. It’s a brief, subtle glance, but I see it. I see everything.
Fear, desperation, a lifetime of choices that feasted on her insides until only a hollow shell remained. My chest aches. I see myself, lying there sobbing.
“He promised me safety…freedom. I thought if I cooperated I could survive this.”
Something in me fractures. Mercilessly, I swing.
She blocks, but too slowly. My steel slices a precise, vicious line down her forearm and blood beads instantly, dark and hot. A cry of anguish pours from her bruised lips.
“You won’t survive this, Saphine,” I whisper. Then I throw myself at her, blade sharp and ready.
For a fleeting moment—half a second—her features soften.
She doesn’t dodge or block my attack, Nor does she sidestep or duck. Metal squelches into flesh and my sword lodges in her abdomen right up to the hilt.
“I’m sorry,” she chokes.
“I will never forgive you,” I growl, twisting the weapon. Her body goes rigid for a breath, then wholly limp.
The mercenary’s chest heaves around the blade like she’s collapsing into an embrace she’s waited her entire godsdamned life for.
Her breath leaves her in a stuttering gasp—pain and relief intertwined—as her knees buckle and hit the ground.
I follow her down, my hand still clenched around the hilt with the warmth of her blood seeping between my fingers.
The world sobs around us with ashen tears. A distant roar, hoarse and dying, echoes from the hatching grounds. But here in this moment, all I can hear is the sound of my fellow Sovereign survivor failing to breathe.
“Nova…” Her voice is a thread, frayed and unraveling. I clench my jaw tight as her fingers brush my wrist and slide off, slick with her own blood.
A faint, broken smile ghosts over her lips. It’s not peace or regret, but a sigh of relief. Her body convulses once. Twice. Then her muscles exhale in one long, shuddering release and her violet eyes fade to a muted periwinkle.
The color drains from her lips as she dies with my blade in her gut.
I pull it free with a slick, suctioning sound that churns my stomach, but I refuse to look away.
I force myself to watch the life leave her, to remember exactly what fate she chose.
The silence that follows isn’t one of peace. It’s a rage that burrows through my ribs like a living, clawing thing. I rise slowly, every muscle trembling, not from exhaustion, but from the tidal wave of fury, devouring the grief before it can drown me.
One done. One to go.