Page 87 of The Dark War

The strong tremors inside the cave caused the rock to shake from the cliff. The battlefield that ensued with war halted. Even the rogues raised their heads in question.

In slow, calculating steps, a deep red dragon with erratic patterns of black and blue emerged from the darkness. It was horned with two on the forehead and four on each side. It was much larger than any shifter dragon had ever seen. The claws were easily three meters in length, the four matching pairs of fangs long enough to pierce the sturdiest trees.

Each step, each rumble had both enemy and kingdoms rattle with fear. It licked its lips with its long, forked tongue, and drool that would keep the flames ignited once it left its stomach poured from the lips. “Fuck!” Kane yelled. He was never one to admit fear, but this beast was something he had never seen.

“Take cover!” Kane grabbed Clara as she was healing dozens on the field. There weren’t many places for anyone to hide due to the charred trees, but they could try. The dragon let out a thunderous growl, its wings unfolding to the length of two football fields.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Wesley nodded for Charlotte to take cover, but she wouldn’t leave his side. “Now you choose to be stubborn?” he yelled as the roar overpowered the entire land. Wesley shifted into his wolf, the power that Cyrene was radiating now powerful enough to keep the pain of the shifts at bay. He grabbed the sword in his teeth and had them run underneath the cliff.

The dragon pushed the air beneath its wings, firing a constant flow as he blew it into the sky. The fire fell from its mouth. Heat of reds and oranges dusted the ground, burning not just those of the kingdoms, but rogues as well. Virion chuckled, wielding a rock that rose up from the ground into a glorified throne. He tapped his fingers on the arm rest, watching the scene unfold.

“This is the best entertainment yet.” He willed a glass of red blood in his hand. Sipping it eagerly, the shadows loomed over him, dipping their shadowy fingers in his drink.

Virion’s dragon blew flames again, screams of innocent lives being burned to a crisp. The fire was so hot that many did not feel their demise, but the mates certainly did as their souls burned for their mates.

A loud horn blew in the distance on the other side of the canyon. Virion lifted his head up in curiosity until he heard a roar comparable to that of his deviled dragon.

A white, gleaming dragon came to view. Its scales were white as pearl. It could reflect the light source rays if the light sources dared to poke through his darkened sky. The golden claws and the stark white teeth had Virion tightening his fists. This was to be a quick, easy win, but with a dragon of this caliber, he knew he might be in trouble.

Horus, Osirus’s pet dragon, had ascended to the sky, its mighty wings comparable to that of the deviled dragon. Horus had never formed to his full length and height, always keeping himself relatively small to fit in his small dwelling.

Horus’s jaw snapped, flying upward into the deviled dragon. It grabbed hold of the scales, his teeth so sharp it punctured through the armored scales. The deviled dragon wailed in pain, but the claws came forth to grip hold of Horus. It scraped down Horus’ belly, not able to penetrate.

“What?” Virion ground out. His fists tightened, and for once, the shadows behind him cowered. “What is the meaning of this?” His hand pushed out, palm upward. “Why can he not be punctured!?” One of the shadows lowered its head, whispering in his ear. Virion’s eyes widened and then scoffed.

“Let’s have the devil dragon eat a sorceress then?” Virion eyes Cyrene who still hovered over the canyon. He hadn’t paid much attention to the little sorcerer because who could match him? He was hoping for a show, and now he was on pins and needles, hoping to finish this war by twilight.

Virion lifted his fingers to his lips, whistling at the dragon for its attention. It whipped its head to him, despite Horus’ bite into its shoulder. Virion pointed to Cyrene, who was oblivious to the attention. Her power radiated stronger and more potent than before with each passing second.

She continued to meditate, siphoning powers from deep within. She knew she had a purpose, and that purpose was for this moment. The hours of training, studying, meditating, and only focusing on the goddess, she was blessed.

The deviled dragon rolled its body in the air, causing Horus to fall, and pushed his mighty wings toward the radiating power of Cyrene. As the deviled dragon came closer, it was attacked from above by a powerful bird-like claw. The screech came from the highest part of the battlefield, echoing to the side of the cliff.

“What the hell is that?” Virion hissed. “Those things are extinct!” Apollo cawed, his claw dipping into one of the tear ducts of the dragon. Horus, who had recovered from his fall, sprinted forward, its fangs crushing the devil dragon’s neck.

Their wings entangled with one another, the two dragons fighting for flight. Crying out in pain and wrestling with Horus, blood dripped from the devil dragon’s neck and into the flames. The heat of the fire cooked their scales, and the pressure from gravity had them spiraling down into the canyon. The fire dimmed. Apollo had to let go of the devil dragon’s eyes unless he wanted to be swallowed whole. He screeched, calling the attention to Osirus, who had his mouth set into a grim line.

Chapter Forty-seven

Under the Moon

Osirusclutchedhissword,swinging it again as he plummeted through another rogue that dared get too close to his horse. His eyes continued to gaze back to the canyon, waiting for Horus to reappear again. His jaw tightened, and his wings fluttered until he saw Melina flutter over to the canyon. She was wearing light armor made of mithril from the gnomes of the south. He had her covered from head to toe and wasn’t about to take any chances of her being hurt.

As much as he wanted her to stay back, stay deep in the palace walls, his mate was something else. She even said she would take her ‘punishment’ after the war was over.

Melina peered over the canyon, everyone too busy to pay attention to her brightly covered wings fluttering with curiosity. With a dagger wrapped around her thigh, she held onto it for a false sense of protection. As she leaned over, fire hovered deep into the pit, and the shining reflected scales began to wink at her. “Horus?” she whispered inside. The roaring of wind and fire should have been too much for anyone to hear, but Horus heard it all too well. His head tilted up. He was perched on a cliff inside, well above the smoldering flames.

Beside him was the dead devil dragon, its head detached from its body and claw marks on its chest. Horus began to eat the heart of the beast, and Melina shuttered. Horus was known to absorb the magic held inside beings. This was what happened to Sorceress Prinna just a month ago. Osirus, who had been too worried that his mate was hovering over the Underworld, wrapped an arm around her waist. She screamed, feeling the sudden touch, but the gentle whisper in her heart had her settle. “Just me, darling. Now stay with me, or you won’t sit on that ass for a week.” Melina giggled, despite the war before them. It was her coping mechanism to deal with her surroundings for the carnage.

Grunts from behind them had them stiffened. They turned to see a group of vampires, one holding a sword that caught Osirus’s eye. It was different from what he had seen across the field. Osirus snarled, lifting his lip in warning, but the vampires chuckled as they approached. “Get ready, darling, like I told you?” Melina tilted her head in defiance, ready to join her lover in their hand-to-hand combat.

She began to sing, which usually could reach a radius of thirty feet, but with the black magic dulling all of their senses, she could only reach five. One came close and was immediately captivated by the spell and threw himself over the canyon. The other four smirked, pulling a root-like substance from their pockets. The same substance that Carlos used to stuff his ears to not be affected by her hypnotic song.

Melina growled in frustration. The sword on the other side of her hip was drawn, and she hovered above the ground as she swung at them. Osirus kept his eyes on three, his dark fae genes coming to the surface. His skin darkened, and his wings of delicate dark swirls of patterns darkened deeper.

With Osirus’s skills, he rid the head of two in a matter of seconds. The last vampire came at him from behind, a small dagger empaled his back, and his hand went to his wing. It pulled, trying to dislocate it. With the pain surging through his body, he flapped his wings twice until he heard that unbearable tear.

Half his wing tore, his fangs lengthening as he ripped his body from the vampire’s clutches. Black tar dripped from the rogue’s mouth. Osirus smirked, pulling the vampire’s head back, sinking its fangs in its trachea, and then ripped. The vampire went limp. He spat out the black sludge and threw the vampire over into the canyon.

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