Page 282 of Scorching the Alien Empire
They collide—BOOM—a thunderclap of rage and steel.
“I... I,” I murmur. “Need glasses.” A pathetic giggle escapes, hollow asbasicmother’s love.
They’re snarling, flailing, clanging—whirlwinds of brute violence. Dracoth’s bleeding. His shoulder—gashed. Krogoth’s relentless, spear jabbing like a rabid porcupine with personal vendettas.
WHY DID HE GIVE HIM BACK THE MASK.
AND WHY THE SPEAR?! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, DRACOTH?!
Metal screams. My teeth ache. My brain vibrates like a migraine made of chainsaws. Krogoth’s spear is a streak of death, Dracoth’s shield dancing like it’s alive, batting away attacks from every direction. It’s like watching him play galactic ping-pong on nightmare mode with his own intestines on the line.
Then—Pain. White-hot and sudden.
My thigh spasms in agony. I look down, expecting to see a bloody stomp—my own little Lexie-stomper.
Nothing.
It’s Dracoth’s. His wound—mirrored through our bond. I gasp, hand clutching my leg, staring as green blood oozes downhis.
Icy dread slides over my skin like a funeral shroud.
Krogoth—the rude prick—won’t give Dracoth a break. He circles. Rabid. Starving. Vicious. Like a pack of hyenas in one body. His spear whistles like machine-gun fire. Dracoth’s shield flashes, the resulting clang of metal-on-metal rings out like boulder-sized hailstones pelting a tank.
“Quick, Lexie!” Sandra yells, voice barely slicing through the whirlwind in my head. “Before it’s too late!”
“No... Dracoth’s got this...” I whisper. But the tremble in my voice betrays the truth.
Maybe... maybe Sandra’s, right?No... that’s hobo talk.
Then I feel it—heat. Coals lighting behind my ribs. My fingers trace the seared runes along my throat, my chest. Arawnoth’s touch. Molten. Glorious.
Arawnoth—Divine Father. Hear your daughter. Dracoth’s wears your sacred ashes. Bless him with your molten strength. Let his pain scourge his weakness. Let his suffering be reborn in strength. Let Krogoth’s body burn so your name is sung across the sacred lands of Scarn.
My gaze lifts to the crimson sun, ash raining on my forehead like fluffy, fury flakes.
“Lexie...please!” Sandra buzzes like a firefly in my ear. “He might die.”
“Shut the hell up!” I snap, sneering at her. “This is your fault!”
She flinches.
“If you had helped me in the vote, instead of playing double-agent with your brain-slug girlfriend, none of this would be happening.” I jab a finger so hard it nearly spears her freckled nose.
“I’m still your friend, Lexie.” Sandra’s voice is a whisper, blue eyes sparkling with understanding. “I’m Greg. You’re Big Foot.We promised to look after each other, remember? Now it’s my turn to look after you, okay?” She takes my hand, her pleading expression shattering my heart.
“Sandra...” My throat tightens. My eyes glisten withtraitor emotions. They stink of weakness and manipulation. An abuse of the Sacred Words—Ignixisentrusted them to me.Iam their keeper. Imustbe strong. Stronger than Dracoth. Stronger than anyone. Because I am theDivine Daughter.
I rip my hand away.
“Prove it,” I sneer, voice hardening like hairspray. “I know. Take Todd.”
Sandra blinks. “What?”
“Bitch Brick’s psychic powers won’t work with his Royal Chunkiness nearby. He’s like a too-cute anti-cheat rune.” A grin spreads across my face—brilliant, obviously. Shame I didn’t think of it sooner.
I try to pry Todd off, but the naughty chug bug has opinions. His spindly booties grip me like a barrage of suction cups. His big eye blinks open, darting between us, wee clackers clacking in crystalline joy.
“Come... on... mister,” I hiss, tugging at him with both hands. But he croaks boldly in protest, clinging on like a stubborn wine stain.
