Chapter 21 Shadow of Wings
Serafina
I jerked my head up from where I stood, eyes closed, the afterglow of Azerath’s awakening still humming under my skin. It was a deep, thrumming pulse, like the heartbeat of the world itself had nested in my chest.
Then I heard it, a screech of a bird. Sharp and urgent. Calling, informing, warning us of...
Danger.
Suddenly, I was well aware of the stillness. I opened one eye.
“Azerath?”
The cavern shifted under a wave of heat, faint but impossible to ignore. He quickly moved before I could even register it. His voice then rolled through the cavern, low, rumbling along every rune-carved wall.
“Stay inside.”
He lifted his great head toward the sky, stretching his massive body as he pressed against the cavern floor with all four legs. With a thunderous beat of wings, he launched upward through the split in the mountain. As he rose, his wings stretched wide, brushing the cavern walls in a sweep of emerald, ruby, and gold. The glow of his scales lit the Sanctum like a living sunrise, and the sudden thrust of wind nearly knocked me off my feet.
My brow creased. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Without thinking, I adjusted my bag, drew out my sword, snatched up my lantern and sprinted toward the glowing tunnel to the entrance. The flowers in the archway whipped violently behind me as I ran.
Every step I took into the cave made the torches flare to life, their flames leaping and dancing along the walls, casting long, quivering shadows that raced ahead of me. As I dashed forward, the cavern seemed to pulse with the rhythm of my own pounding heart.
When I rounded the final bend, sunlight poured through the opening, splashing across the stone floor in sharp, golden streaks. The sudden brightness blinded me for a heartbeat, but I didn't stop.
Instead, I pushed my legs harder, sprinting toward the exit, heart hammering in my chest. Just as I reached the threshold, the gates of the Veiled Sanctum slammed shut with a metallic clang. I skidded to a stop, my shoulder hitting the cold iron. Dust swirled around my feet, and my breath came in ragged bursts as I pressed against the unyielding bars, the sudden barrier trapping me inside.
I peered out through the narrow slits of the gate, the afternoon sun hitting me—and so did the sight of them. At least a dozen Imperial Enforcers stood in formation outside, their silver armor gleaming. The crests on their shoulders glinted blue. Their helms were horned, their gauntlets heavy, boots caked in forest mud.
My blood ran cold as one of them stepped forward and peered inside, looking straight at me.
“By order of the Imperial Advisor, Magnus Ironside, you are wanted for treason, desertion, and slum-class defiance. Step outside at once!”
He grabbed the iron bars of the Sanctum—and a crackle of electricity shot through him. He screamed, jerking back, smoke curling from his gloves.
Another stepped forward, hand outstretched—and the same lightning lanced through him, throwing him off balance.
“No one else touch the gate,” the first growled, clutching his chest, eyes wide with shock.
“Forget the gate,” another snarled, teeth bared. “She’s inside. We’ll make her come out ourselves.”
My heart pounded so hard it hurt. I tightened my grip on the sword even though I knew—knew—I couldn’t fight them.
“Girl, this is your final warning," the lead enforcer barked, pointing a silver spear at me, “step forward. NOW. Or I'll make you."
“Never!” I shouted, voice cracking. "Stay back. All of you!"
He sneered. “Dust-rat thinks she can give orders?" The others laughed. "When we drag you out of there, we’ll teach you where your place is in Aetherion. And believe me, it isn't going to be pleasant."
Then he lifted his silver spear and hurled a bolt of crackling blue magic straight at my chest.
I screamed, throwing my arms up to shield myself.
The spell struck an invisible barrier inches from the gate. Sparks exploded backward, forcing the enforcer to stumble.
He stared, dumbfounded. “What kind of magic can conjure a ward like that—?”
Another enforcer cast an electric ball.
Another hurled a chain spell.
Another launched spears of pure mana at the mountain itself.
Every attack splintered against the unseen shield, their magic ricocheting harmlessly away.
The Sanctum was protecting me.
Outside, the air shifted. Leaves trembled, dust lifted from the ground, spiraling as the wind picked up.
A shadow rolled across the clearing. Slowly at first. Then larger. And larger.
One of the men squinted upward. “Do you feel that?”
The wind whipped around us, twisting violently, tugging at cloaks and hair.
“What the hell—”
High above the treetops, wings unfolded—massive, glittering, ancient—catching the sunlight like a thousand shards of molten jewels. The sky darkened beneath his shadow.
Azerath descended.
The mountain shook with every beat of his wings as he swooped downward, faster than any creature that size should move, carving through the sky with terrifying grace.
The enforcers stared, mouths agape.
“What is—”
“Is that—”
“A dragon—? A real living dragon—?”
“Run!”
“Into the forest now—”
Their screams were swallowed by a rush of wind as Azerath inhaled.
Then the world ignited.
Flame erupted from his maw in a torrent of molten gold. It surged over the enforcers like a tidal wave. Their armor glowed white, then red, then dripped to the ground of molten metal. Their screams cut off mid-air. In mere breaths, they were gone—all of them, reduced to ash and melted silver.
I slammed a hand over my mouth. My stomach lurched. My legs shook so violently I nearly collapsed.
When it was over, the gates swung open before me, just as it had the first time I arrived. I stumbled across the threshold, the heat from Azerath’s blaze still pressing against my skin with the scent of fire clinging in the air.
Azerath flapped his wings, stirring the remnants of ash and scorched earth into the air. The gust swept everything aside, leaving only the faint glow of molten armor where the enforcers had fallen. Their bodies would never be seen again.
He landed beside me, the ground quaking under his immense weight. A sharp screech drew my gaze upward—a black-feathered falcon circling high above. It shrieked again, as if signaling the danger had passed.
Azerath lowered his great head, golden eyes scanning the horizon for any lingering threat.
“Azerath—” My voice broke. “You—you killed them.”
“Yes.” His golden eyes held mine, steady and unflinching.
I let out a sharp, frustrated breath, chest tight, hands trembling around my sword and lantern.
They died because of me. Every scream, every molten shard of metal—it was my fault.