The mist still hung over the Valley of a Thousand Fractures. The air smelled of metal, dust, and... something deeper. Like the ashes of a creature that once lived to guard the skies.
Zepharyx.
We won—they said. But all I saw was a crater the size of ten towers, scattered bodies, and the western communication spire reduced to cinders. I wanted to vomit. What kind of victory leaves more ash than hope? An Elven village beneath the cliffs had also burned when the Hurricane Collapse was unleashed.
I walked through the charred stones, quietly drifting away from the main post. No one had asked me to investigate the remains of Zepharyx’s wings. I just... couldn’t stop myself.
His scales were still there. Broken and scattered, gleaming like shards of storm-glass. When I was young, I read that dragon scales could reflect starlight. But now, all I saw was my own reflection—confused, afraid, and maybe... guilty. When I touched one, a chill crept into my bones. Then a soft breeze brushed my face—gentle, like a final breath.
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
“Arienya?”
I turned. Lieutenant Ryel stood not far, one brow raised.
“What are you doing here?”
“Making sure... it’s really over.”
He looked at the wreckage, then sighed. “Captain Elsin received direct praise from the Council. They said this was the cleanest victory since the battle in the Firelands.”
“Clean?” I muttered. “We lost thirty-two. And an entire village burned.”
“The cost of war, Arienya.”
I clenched my jaw. “But what if he didn’t come to attack?”
Ryel was silent for a moment. “You’re the only one saying that.”
“Because I saw his eyes.” His eyes held no rage. Only weariness, and something that looked like... sorrow.
We returned to the main post in silence. But I couldn’t push that whisper from my mind—the voice that had stirred the moment I touched the scale. Not a loud voice. Just one word, as if etched into the wind:
“Therethil... is not my enemy.”
That night, I snuck back. To the crater. To where Zepharyx’s broken horn still lay. Still warm.
And this time, when I touched it, the whisper grew clearer. Not just a voice. But... a memory. For a second, I saw a sky full of falling stars, a black dragon with blue eyes flying beside Zepharyx, and... a stone gate carved with a familiar sigil. That sigil stood on the eastern gate of Therethil. Our gate.
I collapsed, gasping. My breath came in ragged bursts.
Zepharyx hadn’t come as an enemy. He came to prevent something far worse. And I... I helped silence him.
He came bearing a warning.