Chapter 26

A state of calm had descended over the alleyways of Struport. The defenders’ festivities ending for the eve. Every corner seemed to have been touched by Nivra’s spell, lovers holding hands as they walked the streets, spirits lifted by her arcane efforts. Some leaned on the tender wings of gryphons, seeking warmth as the wind brushed snow and flattered the banners that dangled off every rooftop. All was at peace.

Guards old and young held their weapons close on nightly patrols, some wobbling from the night’s tender festivities. Each laughed in good cheer, slapping the backs of their kin and telling them that all was right with the world. Dreadflame’s dragonfear would be countered, the days ahead looking ever bright. Even with the darkness wrapped around the countryside in it’s terrible grip held not a candle to the fires lit within their chests. Unfortunately for these mortals, their belief was founded in ignorance.

Dreadflame adjusted his navy tunic, the feeling of his flesh too tight upon his bones. Though he knew his disguise should have been perfect with his magic, he still couldn’t help feel wrong within this frail human body. He stoop tall atop the keep of the western gate, gazing down with pride at his handiwork. Down below the last remaining guardians fought tooth and nail to cling to their small and pathetic lives. A cruel smirk graced his lips as the sound of steel clashed through the night, intermixed with the occasional shots of dragonpowder from their rifles.

How cute they were to fight for their lives, to think that stood even a modicum of a chance. The gate had been breached, the courtyards filled with the dragon’s forces, marching over the bloodied remains of the guardians who had once called this place home. Shouts of courage rang through their ranks, well organized as they’d been trained. An elder wolven called to them with the strength his race might be proud of, but he’d tire and be ground down before the night’s end. Reinforcements were not coming, at least not for him.

True their spirits were strong, their resolve one to admire, but beyond these walls was the host of chittering teeth and cruel blades that would consume them like a ripe fruit. With each passing moment a defender lost their life, blood spilling onto cold stone. Unlucky ones were dragged into the wall of bone and teeth, torn apart while still alive. This was the reward for those that defied the divine order of things.

With a breath came the smell of oil, smoke, sweat and death, all delightful to the dragon’s senses. Hands folded behind them as they sung him a chorus of desperation. He had given them the chance to surrender, bow before him, but such was the payment for their disobedience. If they would not accept how things were to be, then they would be ground to dust beneath the might of his paws.

“Ready men….Fire!” The wolven shouted, bringing with him the volley of dozens of rifleman. Their barrage tore into the assault that came for them, breaking apart the shambling horrors and mercenaries alike. It granted them a brief reprieve, all to the dragon’s distain. Why could they not just crumple?

He peered up to the darkened clouds above, catching the faint glimmers of scales from the raging fires. Why were they still fighting, with dragons waiting in the wing? Did they not know this was fruitless? He sighed as his companion Erentis came from behind him, still wearing her human disguise. He hated to admit this, but he still found her somewhat alluring, even in such a disgusting shape.

“How goes the inspection of their defeat? Are the defenders still drawing breath?” Erentis asked with the sweetness of candy, her chain armor slathered in blood. The rest of her faired no better, she looked as though she’d torn several humans apart with her bare paws. “Even after we snuck on in under their noses, giving them a most thoughtful surprise?”

Of her presence he did not turn to greet her, merely watching as the guardians below prepared for another wave of death to approach. This time skeletons with lanterns to hurl, where shadow creatures inside awaited to consume the living with their touch. “Fascinating I suppose to some.” He gestured to the dwindling numbers, soldiers fighting shoulder to shoulder. They shouted, spit flaring as they struggled for every breath. “Even in the face of inevitability they resist. Are they so deluded to defy the will of the gods?”

An archer from the pack of guardians unleashed a volley of arrows, her hands like a blur. The elven woman freed fellow soldiers with every motion, buying them enough of a reprieve to bring down the rank of foes breathing practically down their throats. They cheered for this champion, Milalee she was called.

“We are their masters, they, our things. Yet they continue to pretend otherwise.” He growled, picturing the first face he could remember when he emerged, that defiant Arcturus, unafraid as he stared him down. “This age is filled with such deluded upstarts.”

Erentis scowled, brushing the blood-stained hair from her fair face. “I’ve always found their stubbornness beyond reason. Too stupid to look past their diminutive snouts. Rest assured though Dreadflame, they will fall. There is no help coming. The magicians are in place, the shadow weavers doing their expertise.” She gestured to a bunch of mortals in royal blue robes, adorned with moons, hoods covering their heads. They were on the edge of the battle, currently locked in what appeared to be some strange dance. “Drenedar took their lands long ago, these elves seem to have an old grudge.” The dragoness in disguise chuckled, “Not a sound or sight will escape this keep. Struport will be no more wiser than a wrymling when it first hatches.”

“Excellent.” He mused, gazing out to the flickering gem that was the city on the horizon.

“Though I wish we had a chance to duel with them ourselves. I hear they have practically a flying circus. Pegasai, gryphons and pet dragons.”

His fist clenched in reminder; in this victory he’d nearly forgotten. His blood bubbled, tainting his thoughts. “Know this, those creatures are traitors. They spit on what dragon kind represents, toil and lay with them as though they are their equals. They deny the divine right that lurks within us all, casting it off as some cloak. They roll in the mud with pigs, I say if that’s what they wish, then they shall die like them as well.”

“We’re to be murdering dragons now are we?” Her brow rose.

“It would not be the first time.” He growled, “Have you not helped slay those that were not to join our cause?”

The dragoness clamped her mouth shut, giving the dragon his answer. There was conflict within her transformed eyes.

“Erentis.” He caressed her jaw, “Their kind have always been what fractures our kind. It brings us down, lowers, taints what should be pure. If not for their disease, dragons would have never lost this world. That softness is a cancer that must be swept away. Such weakness has before led to dragons sleeping unprotected among them, getting stabbed in their sleep. All over their envy.” His eyes were burning as he pictured the slaying of his kind, again and again over the years. “Dragons should not fear death from little creatures thousand times their lessor.” He sighed, letting the memories of his father’s rule wash over him, before the war and destruction. When dragons were at their greatest strength, enjoying the age of peace. “But don’t worry Erentis, soon the twin moons will cast their splendor upon dragons once more. The sun will rise and herald in the return of order.”

But his proclamation didn’t land upon the snout of his follower. She regarded the city with a questioning look, bringing down the hand upon her chin. Her eyes still were storms of confusion, unease. “But all this death and destruction, will they not make war upon us when it’s done? Dreadflame, dragons have carved out a stake of this world. It might not be the largest, but to rule the entire thing? Is that not beyond our paws?”

“Perhaps in the past it might have been denied us.” He smiled, laying a hand upon her shoulder. “But this time, you have something that you’ve lacked these many years.”

“You?”

“Well, of course that is the obvious answer.” He chuckled, “But I was speaking of that something Struport has, a ripe jewel, unaware of what feasted for it.”

“The emperor of dragon kind is set to return. We will herald in his arrival, with this city as a grand sacrifice to his will. Contained within is an orb of dragon kind, an unspoiled spirit of my brother and sisters.”

“You think one dragon will make a difference? They are many, and breed like rats.”

“Have you so little faith child?” He brushed her hair and admired her hungrily, getting a scowl for his trouble. “The emperor my dear was only defeated because he wished it. Beneath Bahamut’s nose, he worked, setting about the means for his return. She was fractured, lost to the mortal realms, a broken god, ripe for the taking. The Emperor in the meantime has merely waited for his return. This time, mortal kind has nothing that can stop him.” He took a deep breath of the night air, as the defenders gathered for one last stand. Their wolven commander fought with the courage of ten, he was truly worthy of whatever fleeting title was granted to him. “Have I restored your faith young one?” He extended a hand, grinning as she accepted it and joined this side. “The days of this place are limited, even now they twist, unaware of the hammer about to fall. Now I believe its time we remind them just were they stand within this circle of life.”

Dreadflame leaped from the keep with a look of determination, air whistling past his hair. To others it might have appeared as if this human had jumped to his death, but they were in for a cruel show. With a predatory grin the façade was dropped, a lavender cloud of smoke exploding around him. Bursting through was no longer the man, but the terrifying visage of a dragon with blood red scales. Eyes like a searing forge settled upon them, his belly scales glowing as though they were cooling lava. He delighted as what hope they had was snuffed out, the reality of their position made clear. Bullets were loosed upon him but they tickled, it was useless, he was not to be denied by these ants.

He opened his jaws, a terrible light building within. With a breath he unleashed upon them his fury, a bright white plume of the hottest fire. It graced upon all who dwelled within the courtyard, evaporating moisture in the air, igniting their flesh in a gruesome fashion. Most were slain instantly, unable to comprehend what befell them, others collapsed to their knees screaming in agony, holding on for a precious few seconds before crumbling into a charred mess to the stone. Tilting his wings, Dreadflame bid them farewell, the last of their screams heralding his journey.

Upon his crimson tail came the forms of his dragon kin. They surged through the air, taking positions on either side of his wings. They flew together as a grim flight, hugging fast the darkened clouds above. With a spell from one of them, their scales blended perfectly matching the churning mass of clouds. Without magical detection they’d be nearly invisible, a trio of shadows to bring devastation upon the unsuspecting city.

They passed over the walls in but a blur, descending upon the guards who dwelled their without a hint of their presence. Claws found these guardians, dragging them to the sky, only to be released moments later, sending them on a one way trip to the cobblestone streets below with sickening plops. Shouts soon rang with their arrival, bells coming next, but it was far too late, the dragons were already here.

Opened maws rained down fiery death, explosions greater than any fireball that mages could summon. It consumed wood, hay, flesh and leather, nothing was safe before it’s embrace. Screams came as they loosed their fury upon every street they saw, starting half a dozen fires in the matter of a few wingbeats.

Dreadflame had a more sinister gift to bestow to the city that defied him, letting forth his inner magic to increase his dragonfear. He unleashed it with an overpowering roar, its power spreading like a sickness from his scales, tendrils of despair to pierce through steel, stone and flesh. None were safe that dwelled below that heard his terrible roar, infecting the minds of mortals and dragging forth the deepest, darkest fears from the depths of their minds. He grinned, teeth gleaming in the firelight as people screamed in horror, hurling themselves out windows, doors, or the nearest exit to escape what phantoms chased them. He rumbled as they found no relief, only the open jaws of dragons to embrace them in waves of fiery death.

Every corner of the city did they traverse, the port, the halls of justice, the market, anywhere that Merlia had scouted for them. Hundreds died before the dragon’s demand, screaming as they fled, unable to escape the creature’s flames. Woman, children, the elderly, none were spared, all of them were equally vile within the dragon’s eyes.

It was on the second pass that resistance began to mount. Smattering of pegasus riders took to the skies on their feathery mounts, explosive lances at the ready. Though few in number they seemed determined, unaware of what strength awaited them. The fools were torn apart like rabbits, unable to comprehend how vastly outmatched they were.

Flames spread forth from the city like the multi limbed visage of some twisted demon. They crackled and devoured timber, hay and the innocent alike. It set the perfect, intimidating stage for the dragon to give his finale.

He swooped around the clocktower with a tilt of his wings, unleashing a cone of flames that consumed a dozen dwellings below with his fury. As the pitiful mortals screamed in horror as their lives were destroyed, he landed upon the spire with a growl. Claws broke apart the stone as it began to melt from his heat, windows shattering as he clambered upon it. To the top he rested, pride in his chest, admiring the orange and red gifts that he had bestowed. There he lashed his tail and pulled back his head, unleashing an ear splitting roar to the heavens. Within he unleased his magic from his bones, it manifesting as crimson ribbons that coiled and twisted around his limbs. At his command they loosed themselves to the sky, growing and building with crackling energy before being consumed by the clouds.

Once within they twisted off like lightning, arcing across the heavens. There they built and grew, angry lights flashing until they could no longer be contained. With a growl and nod the dragon had given his command, opening up the clouds to unleash his payload. Rocks, glowing hot soon careened from the heavens, trailed by shimmering lights. Majestic some might have called them as they broke apart the air, but that would betray what they held in store. Each of them crashed across the city in brilliant explosions, sending forth destructive waves of fire and force.

Buildings were shattered as though they were clay, scattering their debris through the ancient streets. So strong where the impacts that far away from them, windows shattered at the mere wave of air. Fire swelled and became the very air itself, swallowing whole those caught within the streets. Terrified mortals only got a second to comprehend what awaited them, before having their bodies turned to ash. What followed was a cacophony of death, almost every structure that remained was consumed by fire.

Dreadflame breathed deep at his handiwork, eyes glimmering with pride. What screams and shouts came he savored, feeling the fog of despair come to fuel his muscles and bones. This was the price for their defiance, their clinging to the false belief that dragon kind were NOT their betters. He admired his kin gliding above in silence, demons, admiring their handiwork. No one was coming to greet them now, too busy dealing with what they’d brought.

This should have made an impression, let them know where they stood. That they were ants before his might. He placed a firm paw to his chest, letting magic flow through him, not to destroy this time, but to amplify his already regal voice. It came like a wicked god through the streets. The clocktower shook with its power as he laid down his decree, “Hear this mortals of Struport. What has shaken your city is me, the grand beast of legend, your divine better, Dreadflame.” He snarled and surveyed the destruction, flicking his tail as he gave the dramatic pause, “As you see, your city burns, thousands die by my paw. Your pathetic toiling these centuries has been undone with a taste of my power. He turned with wicked grin as a series of homes collapsed into the street, crushing a hoard of fleeing people below. He fluffed his wings for added effect, “Your defenders have something of great value to me within these walls, an orb of dragon kind and a shard of Bahamut. I will return to you come the morrow, and you shall procure those things. Surrender and show me you know your place and you will be spared. Your people will be ushered into the new order of things, the way it was supposed to be. Refuse-“He growled, lashing his tail, smoke curling upon his nostrils, “And I will be a plague upon you of which the gods will blush. I shall burn this city until it and its people are merely glass upon the countryside.”

With a heavy snort he launched himself to the air, disappearing with the others into the clouds. He’d made his point, he now hoped they were wise enough to heed his words. Part of him however wished they would not, so that he could revel in the utter destruction.

** ** ** ** ** **

Nivra’s senses were in a daze as she struggled to stand. Her vision blurred the street to an unrecognizable state, her heart pounded in her spinning head. It was all she could do to not collapse upon the ground. What had happened? Where was Voidwing? They had just been on a romantic stroll, enjoying each other’s company when all chaos had been unleased.

She found herself in the middle of a street, seeming ravaged with war. Buildings were demolished, collapsed to the cobblestone, burying those trapped beneath. Fires had started to rage further down, dancing to all the connecting structures as if they were eagerly invited. The air was filled with the heavy smell of burning wood, ash. Her ears flinched at the wails of the masses caught within this destruction, their minds all but playthings for Dreadflame’s command.

Right, the dragon. Nivra trembled and leaned against a sturdy bit of a shattered wall. He had flown over with his allies to unleash an attack. She groaned as her muscles ached, bones whining in pain. Her robes were ripped and tattered, revealing the numerous cuts that now adorned her limbs. She didn’t dare look further, dreading she’d be even more wounded, disguised by adrenaline now coursing through her.

“Voidwing!” Her voice came cracked and shaky, shifting into a cough that had her seeing stars. Wonderful, that could not be good, she was left spitting blood to the street. When she wheezed and gathered her strength she tried again, desperate to be heard over the cacophony of wails from around her.

Still there was no answer from her feathered love. Had he been caught under rubble? Hurled away in the blast? She rubbed her head, recalling that she’d shielded them with an absorb energy spell moments before the red dragon’s attack had struck them. Without her quick thinking they’d have been both vaporized right then and there. Still though, it seemed like she’d only bought them minutes longer of life. She tried to take another step, wincing at the pain that followed, sharp as a blade.

What was the point of her hero’s feast if this was to be the result? Her heart darkened over the faceless masses within the streets. There they fought and shrieked, resembling more like imps by the way the fires outlined them in their light. They grabbed rocks, beams, swords and anything that they could gather to fight off their unseen horrors. It was chaos.

Grunting, Nivra’s legs trembled, losing the fight to keep her upright. She slammed to the ground with a wail of pain. There she groaned and whimpered, knowing she’d no doubt sprained or wounded herself further. She was not going to die here laying on the cold cobblestone. Gritting her teeth through the pain she pushed herself up on trembling arms, “Voidwing! Where are you?”

In any other time, her wails might have drawn sympathy or attention from good natured souls. They would have flocked to her aid, lent assistance. However tonight was filled with horrors and madness to linger upon the mind. In her cries, Nivra drew the attention of a wolven man with a torn apart shirt, his fur slathered in blood.

To the princess the wolven’s muzzle wrinkled, his teeth exposed in a snarl. “Demon!” He cried as if a priest to his flock, thrusting the butcher knife he wielded towards her. “Kill it before it can get us!”

Around him, the people trapped within their minds did connect, as if some cruel joke. Instead of ripping at one another, disorganized, they instead were now given purpose. From the shattered buildings, behind rubble and alleys, came tattered peoples. They muttered and called in terror over the demon, others joining the wolven in his battle cry.

“Kill the demon!” A woman shouted, her face scared and bloody, she was joined by a chorus of others.

She called to them, begged them to come to their senses, she was a human, not a demon. Her cries fell upon deaf ears, they were far too enthralled by the dragonfear. Grunting in pain she tried dragging herself away, but the mob only followed. The first that beset themselves upon her with hungry eyes were dispatched by a sleeping spell. It left the princess panting, trembling as each of them fell unconscious to the ground. To the others she stared down as she clambered to standing, was this how it was going to be? Could she dispatch them all without killing them?

Like a dam had been broken they rushed at her, with blades, chains and anything they could get their hands upon. Their shouts came in a disorganized fashion, screaming as if it was they that were putting down a terrible beast. Several were pressed back by her gust of wind, another handful joining the first batch upon the ground. When they were but an arm’s length away, the panic was clear in her face as she drew a half circle upon the air. Beautiful was the ring of ice she willed into being around her, shimmering with a faint light. It flared out with cruelty, it’s sharpened edges cutting through flesh and bone as a hot knife through butter. In a grisly display a handful of the mob were bisected, their guts spilling out upon the floor.

Oh gods, what had she done? They were innocent, merely out of their minds. The mage stumbled away, face pale, cutting her palm on a sharpened bit of debris. She told herself that it was them or her, now was not the time for moral questions. If she didn’t act, they would kill her. “Voidwing!” She called, voice shaky as the mob beset her again. This time she turned with grim purpose, already preparing another ring of ice.

A rock slammed into her mid casting, putting an end to the delicate motions. With a flash the intricate method in which she cast was undone, the weave she’d bent uncoiling like an untamed beast. She couldn’t even utter a curse as it exploded in a brilliant light, letting forth greater chaos into the world.

Icy spikes erupted from her motion, racing out to skewer all the living around her. Flesh was pierced, blood was spilled, grunt of pain soon came. What attack on her had ended. Nivra herself was hurled to the ground, her arm skewered with hundreds of ice fragments, like tiny needles.

There she screamed from the pain, the limb bent at an angle it should not have gone. The sensation spread to the rest of her, as though her flesh was being dipped in molten steel. She quivered and thrashed in agony, coiling upon herself as tears welled in her eyes. For minutes she was trapped in a never ending cycle that left her weak, and panting. She was left staring into the lifeless face of one of her victims, drained, this was where she was going to die. Alone, without her friends or her love by her side, left to be buried in the debris just like the others.

To think the night had started so lovely, spoken of promise.  Eyes clenched tight as she pictured the feathered head of her love as darkness encroached on her vision. His loving apricot eyes upon her, talons holding her tight. How she wished to be there right now, feel his warmth, caress his feathers, bury her face into his neck to be told she was going to be alright. It was then that she shifting of rocks around her, ever faint, as though it were a dream.

“Nivra!” Voidwing bellowed, leaping to his love’s side. His wing joint was bleeding and flesh exposed, but it mattered little to her pain.

“Voidwing.” She smiled weakly as his talons softly found her, plucking her up from the ground. “You didn’t die.”

“Takes much more than that to kill me.” He replied, trying to keep a brave face as he searched over her.

“Good, otherwise I’d have to fire you.”

“Just stay still and save your breath, you’re hurt.”

“I can see that.” She mumbled as her eyes hooded, the gryphon gently slinging her around his neck. “You going to be my knight in shining armor?”

“Something like that.” He searched around for something to bind he wrists, settling on ripping part of her tattered robes.

“Hey.” She groaned, “That’s mine.”

“I know, but we need it.” He gently bound her wrists together, “To make sure you don’t fall off.”

“You’re going to fly?” She blissfully replied, as the darkness further encroached her vision.

He grimaced, gesturing to his wounded wing. “We’re going to have to take a longer way. Besides.” To the sky he gave a mournful look, “We don’t know if the dragons still claim the sky out there.”

She nodded, “Always thinking, smart. That’s why I love you.” She gave his feathers a gentle kiss, certain in his ability to get her to safety. When he replied his words were almost a whisper, soon swept away by the weariness of her body and darkness took her. The last thing she heard was his voice in a desperate shriek, calling her name.

** ** ** ** **

Arcturus was woken with the others of Fremra’s keep, to the terrible sounds of despair and devastation. Donning his armor and equipping his weapons, the knight made his way to surface with Skywing and Veledar in tow. Adrenaline coursed through them, cutting through whatever weariness might have lingered within them from slumber.

The night air was filled with ash, smoke and the wails of the thousands still afflicted by dragonfear. Thankfully Nivra’s hero’s feast had done it’s intended work, the guardians and all who attended the parties found themselves unaffected. It would be their job to return Struport to any semblance of order.

Flames billowed through the shattered buildings, latching upon to broken beams as though a pack of hungry wolves. They raged and crackled, untiring, they’d lay waste to the entire city if they were given the chance. Of the ones who’d brought forth these flames there was not a sign, the dragons deeming it fit to retreat to their wretched dens.

Fremra took to the skies like an angel, using her magic of the weather. It twisted the clouds, warmed the air, bringing a brief end to the icy claws of winter. Instead, she replaced it with warmth, bending the very water from the salty ocean beyond. With every swish of her paws, the clouds billowed and grew, swelling until they were close to bursting. With a crack of thunder that shook the land, lightning lanced across the sky, the heavens swiftly opening to unleash their heavy burden. The city found itself in a torrential downpour, the flames proving no match for such an assault.

Gryphons and Pegasus riders took to keeping out an eye, ever concerned the dragons would return. Vigilant, resolute, the watched the skies, resisting the ever growing urge to tend to the masses below. Catbird hinds shifted, guardians grit their teeth, to bear witness to such suffering was an arduous task for even the most apathetic.

The job of helping the peoples came to Veledar and Arcturus, once they found that the paladin’s presence could put an end to Dreadflame’s fear. He had to be in close proximity by their account, but the perfect distance for the red dragon to fly him around the streets, being a beacon in which the hoards of terrified mortals below could look to. With but a passing the grip was lost, shattering whatever madness that Dreadflame had inflicted upon them. Street by street they pushed back the blackened haze, letting the guardians behind them come to lend assistance to the wounded and dying.

For hours the rescue efforts continued, pale faced, dirtied, sore people pulled from the wreckage of the street. The guardians were bastions of determination, unwavering in their conviction in the face of such horrors. Destroyed families, broken bodies, familiar places brought to destruction. It would have tried the spirit of any who saw their home obliterated, but not them, they worked on, putting the terrible night away for now. Arcturus found himself among them, shifting rocks and pulling countless souls from the wreckage. By his side Veledar was, lending his impressive strength.

Now Arcturus found himself in the courtyard of Fremra’s keep, moving a stretcher with another wounded soul. Her limbs were set, clothing bloodied, it was a miracle she was still clinging to breath. He let his healing magic flow to his hand, sealing numerous wounds that troubled her. It wouldn’t get her back on her feet, but it would certainly keep her from death. He and the guardian helping him padded their way further in, setting the now resting woman with a dozen others who had been rescued.

Veledar was among those on the walls, standing ever vigilant, eyes tracing the darkness filled clouds. His scales were sullied with dirt, his membranes fairing no better. Paws kneaded the stone below him as he stood ever firm, a bastion of strength in which the others could look to.

Skywing could be seen strutting about the walls, his feathers and fur positively soaked. The rain had long since stopped, with it the fires, but the gryphon had not a moment to rest and dry himself. His onyx beak was clacking away, giving out orders, coordinating his teams of soldiers, all thanks to a rune glowing bright, etched into the cold steel helm that he wore.

“Help those people in the church, set up another wounded zone.” Skywing chirped, lashing his tail, “And I don’t care what Asterion says, get them in there. And keep the minotaur away from them for gods sakes, last thing we need is them trying to kill the wounded in their sleep.” He groaned, ears splaying, “Remind them that we’re not in their land, but Sethera. That If I catch a single one killing a wounded guardian, I’ll rip off their head.” To Arcturus he gave a solitary nod, followed by an exasperated sigh, “No, don’t put him on.”

The paladin went to the next group that would frequent this courtyard, knowing they’d have to be moved further inside. His hands went to any who needed them, mending cuts, minor breaks and bleeding that they had. He was thankful for the distraction, anything to keep his mind off of the broken buildings outside the keep’s walls. If he stopped for even a moment he could feel his heart darken and stretch, Dreadflame’s eyes appearing as if to taunt him.

He could have stopped this. Put an end to his destruction and killing. Arcturus paused to linger upon the great tree within, hand tracing along the claw marks from years of service lending entertainment to a pair of wrymlings. If only he’d made a fuss over the orb years ago, or was more careful. There would still be a chance that Selina and Geoffrey would still be alive, dreadflame being defeated for good. He clenched tight his fist, picturing the wailing, mourning people he’d helped only hours ago. All of their suffering, the grim reality they found themselves, all the paladin’s fault for not being strong enough. Not then, not when Dreadflame came for him with Garroth, and not now.

“Every time.” He whispered to himself. Every time he thought himself safe and protected, always would the red dragon come back to haunt him, torment him, rip what he cared about away. He trembled, staring to the ever-shifting clouds above, someone had to put that dragon in a grave. Otherwise, he’d be left to plague Sethera, if not the world itself, drain its riches and beauty to better serve his own claws. Death and despair would fall to anyone who questioned his word, a tyrannical ruler with no one to keep him in check.

It was then that Voidwing stumbled into the keep a ragged mess. His feathers were all sullied and smeared with dried blood. He was panting, ears pinned, a wing looked to be held tightly to his body. Wrapped around his neck was the form of Nivra, the princess’ face more pale than his belly fur. “Cleric! I need a cleric!” He squawked in alarm, searching around in desperation. “Nivra needs help!”

“Don’t worry, I got you.” Arcturus rushed to his side, along with several clerics of the various faiths.

With effort they gently lifted the bloodied princess off her bodyguard’s neck, some whispering spells to stabilize her shallow breaths. Into a stretcher she was laid, hardly stirring. Bruises covered her arms and legs, robes were ripped to shreds. Her lips were bloodied and cracked, her arm broken and the flesh more resembling a purple. She looked like hell.

“What on earth happened?” Arcturus asked, as the gryphon shifted, clearly besides himself. At a glance the pinned wing was sliced open, blood soaking the feathers. “You’re hurt. Voidwing.”

But the gryphon seemed to be in a daze, his eyes never leaving Nivra as she was moved away. He shoved passed the man without a word.

“The paladin asked you a question gryphon, you would do well to answer him.” Skywing leaped down from the wall, swelling his chest as he presented himself to the smaller gryphon. This time Voidwing found himself blocked by Skywing’s wing.

He looked to either one of them with an annoyed squawk, “Can’t this wait? If you can see,  Nivra is hurt. I must be with her when she wakes.”

“Not until we get some answers.” The gryphon commander chirped, “For starters, where did you get off to?”

“What’s with the interrogation?” Voidwing clacked his beak as the tiger gryphon thrust a talon into his face, “We went for a romantic stroll! There is nothing wrong with that!” His silver tail lashed as he took a breath, “I thought you would understand with the night you indulged in.”

“My night was one within the keep. It hardly compares. One does not take their love out for strolls on the eve of coming battle! Especially without informing anyone of where you were going, how long you’d be gone.”

His ears splayed, “Were we supposed to?”

Skywing released an indignant squawk, “Of course! You held within your claws the heir of our kingdom! Her safety should be of your greatest concern! Are you not her bodyguard?”

“What would you have me do? She asked to go! Granted it was on account of trying to make me feel better, but she wanted to hear me sing for her. We got caught in the madness and just barely survived.” Voidwing huffed, his ears pinning as he glared daggers at the commander, "And if you were truly concerned with her safety then why weren't you keeping a watch over her as well? Why didn't you assign a few guards from your wing? Wing members whom i should remind are under YOUR command while I have no authority to direct them! Maybe you should have thought of that more instead of treating our paladin here as your personal fuck toy the entire time!"”

Arcturus blushed as the statement rested upon the air, ruffling Skywing’s feathers. The tiger gryphon held Voidwing with an icy stare.

“You forget yourself runt.” Skywing squawked, lashing his tail, “And at least I didn’t end up endangering Arcturus’ life.”

 “Now are we done?” Voidwing clacked his beak, “I can see the healers tending to her, I’d like to be here to make sure she’s positively ok.”

“She’ll be fine, the clerics will sort her out.” Arcturus coughed, his cheeks still burning from the gryphon’s remark. He rested a hand on the black gryphon’s back, feeling how tense that he was. “But it’s you I’m worried about.” Letting the magic build within him, soft white light flowed off him and into the gryphon. Where it touched the flesh restitched itself, crawling together until nothing remained. The gryphon hadn’t noticed.

“But she’ll be finer with me there. Let me-“

“You’re not going anywhere gryph.” Skywing thrust himself before the smaller gryphon, shoving him back. “Even if your pipes could draw the largest crowds from Whitedell to Fairmire, I’d still demand to know where you’d been. Your love, our princess should not go anywhere without a full armed guard.” Sky blues eyes traced over the diminutive gryphon before him, “Much more than a runt of a gryphon can provide.”

Voidwing snapped his beak at the phrase, eyes narrowed, he was moments from swatting the commander across the face. “I am more than up for the task Skywing! Don’t you dare doubt me, I’m more than capable of protecting her! How is it my fault that the dragons attacked? Am I supposed to predict the future?”

“You make excuses for your mistake young gryphon. One right after the other, starting with you running away with her!”

“What was the problem with that? She wanted to chase after Arcturus, so we did. That problem worked itself out. If not for that, you’d not be here to berate me!”

Skywing was right in Voidwing’s face, mere inches separating them. Between their eyes sparks seemed to fly, their tails flicking and waiting for the others to make the first move. “Your luck is no excuse for what you’ve done. That too, you indulged in her recklessness. You, as her bodyguard are not meant to instigate such behavior. You’re supposed to keep her out of danger!”

“I do!”

He thrust a wing to the unconscious Nivra, “Then what do you call that? There she lay, almost dead, the culmination of your failure.”

To that the bodyguard shut his beak, what strength he had found starting to dwindle. Feathers softened, his expression grew weak, wings pinned to his back. “I didn’t mean to-“

“That doesn’t matter.” Skywing chirped, wheeling around and offering the younger gryphon a steady stare. “As of this moment you’re relieved of your duty. The princess is my responsibility moving forward. She’s better off in my talons, instead of ones that are more concerned with showing off.”

Voidwing squawked, “You can’t do this!”

“I can and it’s done.”

“Says you?” He looked to Arcturus, “Say something.”

The paladin shook his head, hands on his hips. “Skywing is the commander here. I’m not employed by Lumara, and don’t have a rank. His word is valid.”

He rolled his eyes with a groan, “Of course you side with your fuck buddy. You reek of his cum by the way.”

Arcturus’ gaze narrowed, “We didn’t have time to take a bath Voidwing. Don’t take out your frustrations on me. He is right in his concerns.”

Clacking their beaks and ruffling their feathers, the gryphons squabbled back and forth over Skywing’s choice. Several times it almost came to blows, only ending as Skywing threatened to have Voidwing restrained and thrown into a cell. As the younger gryphon tried to protest that order, gryphon squad landed behind them, Mug with his energy crossbow in hand, teeth grinning as he aimed it at the disorderly Voidwing.

“Fine. You can watch over her.” Voidwing scowled, lashing his tail hard. “But if she’s hurt, I’ll kill you.”

“You are certainly free to do so.” Replied Skywing, pumping his wings, “More dangerous foes than you have tried.”

Voidwing slunk his way to an edge of the courtyard, right upon the wall so that he might watch the people within. He planted down his hinds and grumbled to himself, opening and closing his wings several times.

As Skywing went back to issuing orders and coordinating the Lumarians, the gryphon paused to sigh to Arcturus. “Was I too harsh on him?”

Arcturus stilled, seeing another group of wounded clambering through the keep’s gate. “Perhaps…But how else is he to learn? Honestly, if I were him, I might have done the same thing. You always liked your strolls.”

“Yes, but you were not chasing after the future queen, only the tiger striped behind of a handsome gryphon.”

“Handsome are you now?”

Skywing nodded with amused chirp, “But in seriousness, I’ve been meaning to berate the pair of them before the evening. Both of them need to be shaken to their senses. Hopefully this night will be just that.”

“Yelling at the royals? That doesn’t seem too healthy for your career.”

“True, but if you don’t they walk all over you.” The gryphon bid him well, slinking over to where Nivra had been brought. He fluffed his wings and announced himself to Feku and Azzik, who had already started to tend to her with wet sponge and words of healings. The poor kobolds nearly shrieked in alarm, instantly forcing the gryphon into an ears splayed apology.

Back to his work Arcturus did go, assisting more of the wounded that shambled into the keep’s courtyard. His time was a blur of bandaging and offering little glimmers of healing magic, before directing them to the collection of clerics helping those grievously wounded. With each group the paladin’s heart stretched, so many helpless eyes full of shock and despair. It had him shift his gaze to Veledar, standing tall along the keep’s walls, ever vigilant in his watch. The dragon turned, as if sensing his heart and offered him a kind nod. One that let him know he was there for him.

Voidwing however was still hanging by himself, alone, not a soul to comfort the cloud of discomfort that had held him in it’s terrible grip. The paladin called to him, getting the gryphon to perk up, his ears standing tall, apricot eyes locked upon him.

“Me?” He gestured to his white feathery chest with a talon.

“Yes you! Get your furry butt over here, lend a talon or two. No one standing around on my watch!”

He leaped to the paladins side with a flap of his wings, giving Veledar a gesture with his beak. “Your lover seems to be standing around.”

“He’s on watch.”

“I could go do that.”

“You would have done that if you were going to. I need your help with the wounded. Know how to use a medkit?” He grabbed one from the cleric’s supplies, a brown leather pouch with a heart sewn into the surface. Within was bandages, vials, needles and string, alcohol, everything needed to tent to minor wounds.

The gryphon nodded, “Was part of the basic training-“ He was forced to catch the pouch in his beak.

“Good, then come help me. We’re not done, not in the slightest.”

Thankfully the gryphon didn’t argue, though his gaze did steel. Padding over he was laid to work, resetting broken limbs, bandaging wounds and helping move those that could not. With each person they were able to assist, the aggravation upon his feathers did blunt, worked away with grunts, splayed ears and the sound of the wounded.

“Why are you stitching their wounds instead of using your magic?” Voidwing finally asked as they rested before a wolven guard, sealing up a gash along his arm.

Arcturus’ reply was simply and focused as he worked, “The magic to heal doesn’t last, and if I want a powerful burst it restricts how many I can help. So this will tide them over until we get them to a cleric.”

When the knight finished he moved, letting Voidwing replace him. With delicate talons the gryphon wrapped tight the wound, ears splayed as he worked. He could see the weight upon Voidwing’s shoulders, catch the tremble of his foreclaws, the occasional glance to his beloved.

“Arcturus?”

“Yes? The paladin asked softly.

“Previously in the eve, I claimed Skywing used you as a fuck toy. Apologies. I was angry and-“

He cut him off with a chuckle and raise of the hand, “It’s quite alright, I figured. It’s noble how much you care for her, even willing to snap and squawk at a gryphon as magnificent as he.”

“Is that your bias showing?”

“Perhaps it might.”

Voidwing’s attention drifted back to his love, accompanied by a soft, pained whimper, “I remember when we first met you know.” He said softly, “I was all nervous, trying out for a position with the order. The other gryphons all of course frowned on my participation, runts of course not made for the more physical aspects of warfare. I wasn’t cut out for it they taunted, but I was determined. Even your handsome Skywing turned me down, but her-“ Voidwing lingered upon her features, “She saw in me the spirit and courage I always knew I had.” His head wilted with a sad chirp, “And this is how I repaid her…A show off Skywing said…I’m not even sure that he’s wrong anymore.”

“Have you ever done so?” He replied, “Out of your desire to prove yourself to the other gryphons?”

“Never if it meant putting her in unnecessary danger. It wasn’t like she was some defenseless girl. You’ve seen her power, her skill. If anything it’s only when she hurls herself into terrible danger does she need me.”

“I’m not saying that she’s weak. But even you can agree that she’s the future queen. She needs to be protected ever more; If we want Lumara to change it will be through her.”

“I knew you’d side with him.” Voidwing grunted, looking away with a chirp, “I get it Arcturus, you and the commander have a thing.”

“I’m not picking a side Voidwing. Your upset cause you know it to be true. This line of work is dangerous, keeping her here is dangerous.”

Onyx ears pinned, “I wanted to leave, but it was her demand that we stay. Was I supposed to deny her? Drag her away like a prisoner?”

“Perhaps.”

“Now you’re sounding like the Emerald Lady of which your group speaks of. Doing what they do because they know best.”

Arcturus sighed as he stood, looking to all the weary faces on guard and civilian alike. In each of them he could see the pain, the terrible loss, this day would haunt them for the rest of their lives. The knight scratched his chin, looking from them to the churning clouds, hoping for an answer. “I’m not going to lie to you Voidwing, I preferred that Nivra stayed. With her help it gave us the hero’s feast, a chance that we might not have had otherwise. But seeing all this destruction, the death that Dreadflame is capable of? You might want to consider getting her out of here if things get too bleak.”

The gryphon fluffed his feathers, “That’s rather rich coming from you is it not? On one claw you speak of courage and give uplifting speeches, the other you tell your friends to flee.”

He grimaced, “Only if things get so dire that victory can no longer be achieved.” To the princess his gaze shifted, “Perhaps with her, a time before that.”

Voidwing paused, ears pinning to his neck. “Are things that bad?”

“You saw what he did tonight, Voidwing. People turning on one another, and tearing apart their flesh like wild animals; Whole buildings falling to nothing but rubble. Dreadflame’s power is far more than I anticipated.”

“How can we even stand against such a thing?” Whimpered the gryphon, his hinds shifting uncomfortably, “Tonight we started so full of hope, the hours ahead seeming so right. We had achieved a victory, set up a wall against his power. Yet, with just a flight he undid it all. Did the spell even matter?”

“Without it, the entire city would have been gripped by this. Instead we had power to recover, push through and mitigate what devastation that was wrought.” He gestured to the guardians on watch, Lumarian gryphon’s passing overhead in formation on their patrol. “That even though he tried to break us we still persist. I imagine he’ll be rightfully furious with that.”

He nodded softly, taking a composing breath as he fluffed his wings. “It’s going to be tough to tell the princess I’m taking her out of here.”

“Yes it will be.” Arcturus rested a hand on the gryphon’s shoulder, “She might even hate you for it. Scowl, spit and curse your name, but in time that will pass. You just need to hold firm, you’re not her servant, pet, or toy. You are her love, and your job is to keep her safe.”

Ears flicked as Voidwing soaked in the words, searching across all those still moving through the keep. “Alright, do you think that will convince Skywing to let me see her?”

“Perhaps, you’ve rightfully gotten under his talons.” He gazed to the furrowed brow of the tiger gryphon, still issuing orders from his place at Nivra’s side. “But I figure he’ll cool down come morning.”

“When Dreadflame will return?”

“Right.” He grumbled, “But that will probably aid in your need to get her out of here.”

“Should you not leave as well?” Voidwing swiveled his head, “With the orb of dragonkind?”

This again, how many times was it to be asked? Arcturus shook his head. “You’ve read the reports. It corrupts anyone who gets close, eventually willing them to touch it. All it takes is that to happen, the spirit inside possessing that person’s body. Then we have another dreadflame on the loose.” He shook, remembering the look of Vargus, two years ago. That sadistic gaze that would soon define Arcturus’ life. “And that we can’t risk.”

Voidwing paused for but a moment, “But Veledar has stated you’ve practiced reducing such things. I recall there was a technique that you tried where you had to resist charm-“

“Yes, we need not go further than that.” He blushed, recalling the particulars of that night. “But we have no idea if that would work on the orb.”

“But it would you not be bound by your oaths to try?”

“How do you figure?”

“Dreadflame, should the day draw dark and he prove stronger than our defenses. Would it not be prudent to prevent him from getting a total victory? To spirit one of his prizes away?”

“You suggest leaving the people here to be at his mercy?” Growled Arcturus.

“I’m saying when he’s almost won. Just as you’d have me pull Nivra away, should you not do the same?”

The same thing that Merlia and Veledar had asked of him. How easy it had seemed to promise such a thing when reality had not set it’s ways. When the city was not held in such devastation, thousands of souls demanding that they be avenged. Arcturus grit his teeth, practically watching the falling meteors that caused such devastation. He growled, “I can’t do that Voidwing. Not after tonight.”

“Why not? Arcturus, your life is just as much valuable as Nivra’s own.” Voidwing drew closer, only to get grabbed firmly.

Emerald eyes were filled with fire, threatening to ignite the air ablaze, “Look around you Voidwing. See what a taste of that dragon managed to do? How many souls now scream out in agony because of my inaction? My complacency? How many more must he take before he is to be stopped? You were not there on the night he was first freed, when he attacked our home, took everything from me.” Even though the gryphon nodded weakly, it did little to stem the tide, “If we don’t stop him here, he will continue this path. How can I leave, letting everyone here be faced with his mercy.” He shook his head, “Nivra can solve things with words and her position greater than I ever could. She must be protected if we ever want a future in Lumara.”

“So, if I’m hearing you right. It sounds as though you’re staying because you don’t want him to defeat you again.”

He relinquished his grip on the gryphon, as the words rested upon his mind. That couldn’t be true could it? His intentions were entirely noble, all that he said. Dreadflame was a threat, one that could not be ignored. Yet all his friend’s point that he should leave with the orb lingered like a cold fog. If he was the only one capable, than of course it should be him that delivered it from the dragon’s paws. He stared at his hands as they trembled, remembering the wicked laugh of the dragon, celebrating it’s slaying of Selina and Geoffrey. How could he let that monster get away, especially after an entire city now shared his experience?

“I think you should think about the long term, instead of the short term.” Voidwing said softly, “Retreat, analyze, hit your foe where he is weakest. The gryphon way. Focus on that instead of satisfying your need for revenge.”

Arcturus turned to him, “I’m not out for revenge.” He growled, eyes steeled, “Voidwing, get her out of here. Not as a commander, or a paladin, do it for me as a friend.”

A wing fell on his shoulders, a kind chirp gracing his ears. “Then as a friend get the orb and run when we leave. Can you do that for me?”

He didn’t answer at first, Dreadflame’s visage taunting him from the clouds. When he peered back to the desperation filled look of his friend, the paladin could only sigh, “I’ll think on it. Now come, I believe there’s more wounded to tend to.”

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

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