Page 7 of World At War

We stare at Michael when it’s his turn in our game of twist that lyric. He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m your friend in the hell spaces, where the blood flows down chasing the drow away.”

Draven points at what’s left of the drow and creatures. “They’re not okay.” He tries to sing his line and winces.

Rolling my eyes, I laugh a little. “You’ll get there, babe. We’ve been doing this since we were little.” I motion between Nikita, Michael and me as we get ahead of her troops to lead them towards the mountains.

“I was never little.” Michael chimes in. Angels were created, not born, so his statement is extremely accurate.

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head and fill my mates in on the facts about angels. They nod along, listening to my descriptions.

I stand tall in the desolate landscape, flanked by my cousin Nikita and her mates on my left, my own mates to my right. The air is thick with anticipation, the acrid scent of ash and decay swirling around us. My mother’s hybrid Lycan beast, a formidable creature with talons that click in restless eagerness, looms behind me. She’s a silent sentinel ready to unleash its fury.

The company is an eclectic assembly of power and prowess. Nikita, my cousin, morphs seamlessly into the form of the pale rider upon her skeletal horse, a haunting figure against the stark backdrop. Michael, one of Nikita’s mates, transforms into his formidable War form, astride a bright red horse that seems to blaze with an otherworldly fire. Together, we form a grim procession, marching towards the foreboding mountains looming ahead.

The echoing steps of the undead reverberate through the eerie silence, a macabre symphony that is both unsettling and oddly comforting. The undead, loyal in their spectral existence, follow us with an unwavering commitment. Their presence, a reminder of the peril we face, doesn’t daunt us; instead, it fortifies our resolve.

The horizon, once a foreboding expanse, now appears less daunting. Rex’s Wyrm dragon, a creature at home in this hellscape, towers beside us. The shifting shadows on its scales reflect the ominous landscape. He stands ready, the sinuous grace of a creature prepared for the tumultuous journey ahead.For Rex’s dragon, the transition between forms is second nature, a stark contrast to the toll it takes on my body.

We march towards the mountains, a collective force moving with a sense of grim determination. Deep within my soul, a knowing pulse — Austin’s missing head awaits in the heart of those looming peaks. The mountains cast long shadows that seem to reach out, as if beckoning us into the abyss. The weight of the unknown hangs in the air, a palpable tension that heightens with every step.

As we advance, the harsh reality of the situation becomes clear. We have no idea how many Drow lurk in the shadows, nor do we possess any inkling of the dangers concealed within the mountains. The uncertainty sharpens the edges of our focus, and we press on, resolute yet wary. We are ready to face the unknown that awaits us in the heart of the looming peaks.

My gaze remains fixed on the ominous mountains, the dark peaks looming like ancient sentinels guarding a long-forgotten secret. A subtle movement in the shadows catches my attention, and I raise my hand in a swift gesture, signaling to my mates and my mother. The unspoken communication ripples through our group, a silent understanding that we stand on the precipice of the unknown.

Nikita and her mates, attuned to the subtle cues, tighten their grips on weapons and ready themselves for the impending threat. The air crackles with tension, a palpable energy that courses through the assembled warriors as we brace for whatever may emerge from the dark expanse ahead.

From the depths of the shadows, several Beholders emerge, hovering with an eerie grace. The flying orbs, adorned with tentacles and numerous unblinking eyes, buzz around our grouplike malevolent sentinels. Their presence is unmistakable — gathering information for their unseen masters, orchestrating the unseen machinations of the Drow.

With a keen awareness, the Beholders draw nearer, their relentless scrutiny intensifying. It’s a surreal dance, the grotesque forms of the floating eyeballs closing in on us. The air becomes charged with a strange energy, a disconcerting hum that heralds the imminent clash.

My mother’s Lycan, a majestic hybrid with talons that echo with the sound of impending doom, has had enough. With a powerful leap, the great white beast soars into the air, talons extended. In a flurry of motion, it pounces on one of the Beholders, tearing it apart with a savage grace.

Chunks of magenta and black flesh, along with vibrant green vitae, splatter across our group. The unexpected explosion of gore elicits a chorus of startled exclamations. My mother’s audacious antics prompt a chuckle to escape my lips. She flicks the remnants of the Beholder off her talons with a casual yet victorious gesture, the grotesque display a macabre testament to our unwavering determination in the face of the unknown. As the lingering scent of the Beholder’s demise mingles with the air. We steel ourselves for whatever else may lie in wait within the shadowy depths of the looming mountains.

Chapter 6

Knox

My brother,stoic and seemingly detached, navigates the unfolding chaos with a robotic precision that borders on unnerving. The transformation in our mate, Tia, is staggering. She was once carefree and vibrant soul now standing among her mother and cousin, a figure of unyielding strength and determination. The aura of a seasoned warrior emanates from her, a testament to the years of battle training bestowed upon her by her father.

She stands tall, a commanding presence amidst the swirling chaos, her eyes scanning the horizon with a watchful intensity. The subtle shifts in her posture, the controlled movements of her limbs, all bear witness to the disciplined warrior within. The weight of responsibility hangs in the air, and Tia carries it with a grace that belies the tumultuous landscape.

The Beholders emerge from the shadows, grotesque orbs of malevolence that hover ominously around us. It is in the face of this threat that the true harmony between Tia and her family reveals itself. Each member moves with a synchronicity born from years of shared battles and unspoken understanding. Adance of lethal precision unfolds as they attack anything that dares to draw near.

My brother, strangely detached from the chaos of the Beholders, remains fixated on the mountains ahead. Tia’s mother’s beast, a terrifying Lycan, revels in the chaos, tearing Beholders to pieces with a feral delight. The air is thick with the scent of their demise, a metallic tang that mingles with the dust kicked up by the unfolding skirmish.

The scene is a cacophony of sounds — the rhythmic thud of talons meeting flesh, the snarls of the Lycan, and the eerie hum of the Beholders. Tia and her family move with an almost preternatural coordination, a seamless blend of skill and instinct. As the battlefield unfolds around us, my brother’s unyielding focus on the mountains hints at a deeper understanding. There’s a recognition of a looming threat that goes beyond the immediate chaos. In the midst of the turmoil, Tia’s unwavering determination stands as a beacon, guiding us through the storm that gathers on the horizon.

We come to a halt, just shy of the mountain, and collectively stare up at its looming, craggy silhouette. The weight of the impending confrontation hangs heavy in the air. Nikita, with a regal wave of her hand, commands Maelstor Rex to take flight. The colossal skull dragon ascends into the heavens, eclipsing the sky with its gargantuan form. The air shivers with anticipation as Rex unleashes his breath weapon, a torrent of green flames that engulfs the side of the mountain.

He ignites the stone, his flames licking voraciously at the rugged surface, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. The echoing screams of the Drow resonate through the valley, a haunting symphony of agony. The acrid scent of burning flesh waftsthrough the air, a visceral reminder of the price paid for crossing the ancient dragon’s wrath.

Watching this ancient creature unleash its fury upon the mountain sends a shiver down my spine. The sheer power displayed is awe-inspiring and, at the same time, unnerving. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and a silent acknowledgment passes through me. Rex is a force to be reckoned with, a living embodiment of raw, primal power.

In my dragon’s silent retreat within my mind, I sense a subtle acknowledgment of Rex’s dominance. The vast difference in size between our dragons is starkly evident. Rex, with his colossal form and ancient lineage, dwarfs us in comparison. The silence in my head is a testament to the awe that even my dragon feels in the presence of such overwhelming might.

As Rex’s assault on the mountain unfolds, the valley reverberates with the ferocity of the ancient’s wrath. The landscape transforms into a scene of chaos, green flames dancing against the rocky facade. I stand there, a witness to the unleashing of primal forces, my dragon silent and in awe, as Rex marks the mountain with the indelible imprint of his fury.

Tia glides over to Nikita’s skeletal form, her gaze meeting the empty sockets of the pale rider. There’s a silent exchange between them, a communication that transcends words. Death, in the guise of Nikita, lowers her gaze to Tia. With a subtle movement of her hands, the skeletal army under her command advances. The air becomes charged with an eerie energy as the army of the dead moves forward. Their sudden movement turns into a relentless march towards the mountain looming ahead.

---