Page 285 of Scorching the Alien Empire
How is he standing?
“Come, brother!” Dracoth laughs like an escaped lunatic, as if he’s enjoying giving me panic attacks. “Let us bathe in divine blood. Let us ascend to the realm of the gods!”
My blood turns to ice. They stumble toward each other—two broken titans, claws glinting in the gloomy crimson haze like drunken reapers at the end of time.
What is this? This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
Dracoth’s earlier words hit me like overdue credit cards: “Farewell, Alexandra.”
He never calls me that.Never.
He knew.
He knew this would happen.
He was saying goodbye.
“Dracoth...”
My lip trembles. Eyes gleam with traitor tears.
The air explodes with sonic booms and the whistling whine of claws. They’re just standing there—ruins,devouringeach other. Blows too fast to see, only felt: the sickening crunch of bone. The wet shriek of splitting flesh. Meat pounding into meat.
“They’re butchering each other!” Sandra sobs beside me, turning away. “I can’t watch.”
Neither can the crowd. Heads turn. Groans. Gasps. Cries for someone—anyone—to stop this.
Pain sears across my body. Slices, fractures, agony rolling in waves, blanketing my entire body like it’s turned into battlefield target practice. I collapse, knees hitting the jagged stone, palms pressed to burning rock.
This suffering isn’t mine—it’s Dracoth’s.
His pain, flooding through the bond. A brutal mirror, pinning me to the ground. And yet he stands... enduring far worse.
I lift my head through the veil of tears and agony. My gaze locks on Bitch Brick. She’s not crumbling. She’s not even blinking. She just stands there—chin high, teeth clenched, staring through the storm like a stone goddess.
How?
This can’t be real. Dracoth doesn’t lose. He’s invincible. My Red Dragon.
“Lexie, please—I’m begging you!” Sandra grabs my shoulder and shakes it, but I barely feel her through the pain roaring in my veins.
He’ll turn it around. He always does. Any second now.
Another blow explodes in my gut like dynamite. I gasp, crawling forward, eyes blurry.
I see them—two dying gods. Swollen. Bruised. Faces smashed. Flesh torn like sun-dried jerky. Blood streaming down their bodies like the rivers of tears I can’t hide.
Sandra’s voice slams into me.
“What about Dracoth?You’re using him!” she screams. “You always have! Youabandonedhim against the Scythians! Helovesyou, Lexie. He’sdyingout there for you, and all you care about is your FUCKING SELF!”
Gods...
She’s right.
I used him. Pushed him. For the Sacred Words. To make him stronger.
No...
