Page 49 of The Dark Lord Awakens
“Aerial view,” I repeated, my stomach doing a little flip. “Right. Because of course my pet dragon flies. Why wouldn’t he? Totally normal. Just like riding the bus, except the bus is alive and breathes fire and flies hundreds of feet in the air with nothing between me and a fatal plummet but some scales and wishful thinking.”
“Mr. Snuggles is exceptionally reliable,” Azrael assured me, clearly amused by my hesitation. “He has never dropped a rider… intentionally.”
“That adverb is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence,” I muttered.
We made our way to a large balcony overlooking the eastern side of the castle. Mr. Snuggles bounded ahead, clearly excited for whatever was coming next. When we reached the open air, he stretched his neck and made a sound that could only be described as draconic smugness. Then, before my eyes, he began to grow. His sleek black scales rippled as his form expanded, neck elongating, wings unfurling from his sides until he stood before us as a magnificent beast the size of a small bus.
“Show-off,” I said but couldn’t help smiling as Mr. Snuggles preened under my attention. For a terrifying engine ofdestruction, he was surprisingly endearing. Like a deadly fire-breathing puppy with the ability to level small villages.
I approached the dragon, looking for some kind of saddle or harness but found only smooth scales. “Um, where exactly do I…?” I felt strong hands grip my waist from behind. I barely had time to yelp in surprise before Azrael effortlessly lifted me into the air—like I weighed no more than a sack of demonic potatoes—and deposited me onto Mr. Snuggles’ back.
“My apologies, my lord,” Azrael said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. In fact, he sounded like someone who’d just found a perfectly legitimate excuse to manhandle his boss and was quite pleased with himself. “I merely wished to assist.”
His hands lingered at my waist a moment longer than strictly necessary, his cool fingers somehow burning through the layers of my clothing. Before I could formulate a suitably snarky response that wouldn’t reveal how my pulse had just decided to run a sprint, Azrael gracefully vaulted up behind me, his chest pressing against my back as he settled into position.
I suddenly became very aware of our physical proximity, which was approximately “zero inches with full body contact.” If this were a romance novel, this would be the part where the heroine’s breath catches and she feels a mysterious warmth spreading through her body. As it was, I was experiencing both those things but trying desperately to attribute them to pre-flight anxiety rather than the fact that I was essentially sitting in the lap of a demon who could have moonlighted as a cologne model.
“I recommend holding on firmly, my lord,” he murmured close to my ear, his cool breath sending an involuntary shiver down my spine that had absolutely nothing to do with temperature. “The initial ascent can be… invigorating.”
The way he said “invigorating” made it sound like he was describing something far more intimate than dragon flight. His arms slid around my waist, pulling me more securely against him until I could feel every inch where our bodies connected. For someone with such cool skin, he radiated heat like a supernatural furnace.
“Wouldn’t want you to fall,” he added, his voice dropping to a register that made my stomach do gymnastics that would impress Olympic judges. “I’m quite attached to you, my lord.”
Before I could process the rather comfortable intimacy of our seating arrangement, the double meaning in his words, or the fact that there was nothing to hold on to except Mr. Snuggles’ smooth scales, the dragon bunched his powerful haunches and launched us skyward with a single mighty thrust. My stomach dropped faster than my GPA after freshman year, the wind whipping my hair back and stealing the undignified yelp from my mouth.
I instinctively leaned back against Azrael’s solid chest, my hands gripping his forearms where they crossed over my abdomen. His hold tightened in response, secure without being crushing, and I felt rather than heard his soft chuckle vibrating against my back.
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” he said, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel them forming the words.
“That’s one word for it,” I managed, trying not to think about how my heart was hammering for reasons that had increasingly little to do with our altitude. “Terrifying, nauseating, and ‘oh God why’ also come to mind.”
Within seconds, we were soaring high above the Dark Citadel, the massive fortress spreading out beneath us like a gothic architect’s fever dream. From this height, I could see the entire layout of Iferona in a way the map table could never convey.
The city sprawled outward from the citadel in concentric rings, divided by walls and canals into distinct districts. The Noble Quarter to the west gleamed with dark polished stone and blue-flamed torches, while the eastern districts—where we’d toured earlier—were a chaotic jumble of crumbling structures and narrow, winding streets.
“It’s… beautiful, in a grim sort of way,” I said, my voice carried away by the wind. Like a post-apocalyptic painting or one of those abandoned cities reclaimed by nature that photographers love to document. “Dystopian chic, with a side of medieval suffering.”
“Indeed, my lord,” Azrael replied, his arms tightening slightly around my waist as Mr. Snuggles banked to the east. The movement pressed us even closer together, and I became hyperaware of every point of contact between us. “Iferona was once the jewel of the shadow realms. It can be so again, under proper leadership.”
No pressure or anything. Just rebuild a fallen civilization while figuring out how to be a dark lord and not plummet to my death from dragonback. All in a day’s work. I should update my resume: “Beau Adonis Percival Quixote Macbeth – Experienced in customer service, Microsoft Excel, and rebuilding entire shadow kingdoms while cuddling with demon butlers on dragonback.”
As we glided over the city walls, I could see the stark transition from urban sprawl to the blasted landscape beyond. The aptly named Ashen Fields stretched out before us, a wide gray plain bordered by steep hills to the north and east, a dark forest to the south, and the city walls to the west.
“There.” Azrael pointed over my shoulder, his chin nearly resting on me. “The natural bowl formation provides shelter from the northern winds and makes the area easily defensible.”
He was right. The geography was perfect for a relief camp—flat terrain for setting up tents, natural barriers on three sides, and close proximity to the city. As we descended in lazy spirals, I noticed a clear stream cutting through the northern edge of the field, emptying into a small lake to the southeast.
Mr. Snuggles took a particularly sharp turn, and I was thrust back against Azrael’s chest. His arm tightened around me, his hand splaying possessively across my abdomen.
“Careful, my lord,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of something that sounded suspiciously like satisfaction. “Dragon flight can be… unpredictable.”
I had a sneaking suspicion Mr. Snuggles was taking the scenic route on purpose, making extra turns and dips that required Azrael to hold me even closer. The dragon and butler were clearly in cahoots, and I was caught in the middle of their demonic conspiracy to give me heart palpitations.
“Is that water clean?” I asked, desperately trying to focus on anything other than how Azrael’s thumb was now tracing small circles against my side. In a city where everything seemed to be varying degrees of toxic, polluted, or cursed, a clean water source would be invaluable.
“The Midnight Stream is one of the few water sources not yet tainted by the city’s waste,” Azrael replied, his voice a velvet rumble against my back. “It springs from the Obsidian Mountains and feeds the Twilight Lake before continuing underground.”
“Perfect,” I said, my mind racing with possibilities, though admittedly running on a parallel track to the part that was cataloging every subtle movement of Azrael’s hands. “We can set up the water purification stations near the stream. It’ll supplement the water we’re bringing in.” Look at me, thinking about water purification like I hadn’t just learned what the Ashen Fields were ten minutes ago. I was either becoming asurprisingly competent dark lord or developing an impressive capacity for bullshit. Probably both.
