43.
Talia stared with wide, terrified eyes at the pitch-black silhouette looming against the fading sunlight.
Its massive, scale-clad body coiled like a dormant volcano on the verge of eruption before surging into the air. A gargantuan, reptilian head perched atop it, glaring down at the encampment with glowing, predatory red eyes. Talia’s legs buckled, and she collapsed to the ground. As the monster released a plume of hot, sulfurous breath and unfurled wings mapped with obsidian membranes, it felt as if the entire world had been swallowed by an eclipse.
Varkas drew his sword, his voice cutting through the panic.
“Prepare the suppression equipment—immediately!”
His order galvanized the knights, who emerged from the scattering crowd. They swarmed the creature, hammering iron stakes into the earth and anchoring them with heavy chains. Moments later, dozens of steel harpoons hissed through the air, embedding themselves into the monster’s colossal frame.
Talia clapped her hands over her ears as a deafening roar erupted from the beast’s maw. The earth shuddered under the violence of its struggle; as it thrashed against the iron bindings, several stakes were ripped from the soil, snapping like twigs and hurtling into the sky.
“Everyone, get back!”
The warning barely rang out before the monster, having shattered its restraints, whipped a wing with devastating force. Talia let out a ragged scream. Two tents were obliterated in the gale, and half a dozen servants were flung aside like discarded parchment. One body rolled to a stop at her feet, twisted at a grotesque, unnatural angle. It felt like living through a waking nightmare.
“Bring more equipment!”
Varkas’s raw command anchored her fraying consciousness. Talia forced strength into her trembling legs and stood, watching in a daze as Varkas lunged toward the rampaging beast like a streak of lightning. He charged headlong toward the maw of a creature whose torso alone spanned thirty cubits.
“Varkas!”
As his name tore from her throat, the monster’s wing lashed out toward him. Talia watched, paralyzed by terror. The black wing, vast enough to blot out the sky, instantly blanketed Varkas. Her world turned to ink, but a heartbeat later, the pale flash of Varkas’s blade sliced through the thick membrane as if it were paper.
With a horizontal strike, he severed the wing, then carved through the thick, pulsating muscle connecting it to the torso. The creature, robbed of its balance, lurched violently.
Varkas seized the opening. He whipped a chain-sickle from his waist, burying the hook-shaped blade into the monster’s maw, which was studded with awl-like teeth. Then, using his momentum, he slid across the ground and secured the chain to a reinforced stake before yanking it with singular, brutal strength.
The monster, its lower jaw anchored by the chain, collapsed like a hooked fish. Talia gaped, stunned by the raw, superhuman power radiating from his lean, dancer-like frame.
Varkas held the chain taut with both hands, shouting to his men.
“Finish it!”
Dozens of harpoons pierced the beast in rapid succession. The scaled titan writhed, thrashing its house-sized body in a desperate, futile attempt to resist, but it was overwhelmed by the barrage. Finally, with a flick of its tongue, the beast slumped into the dirt. Only then did Talia allow herself to breathe.
“Are you alright?”
An Imperial Guard ran to her side, eyes wide with concern. He sheathed his sword, reaching out to help her to her feet. Talia slapped his hand away and stumbled toward Varkas, who was already busy stripping his equipment from the carcass.
Varkas wound the heavy chains around his arm, his gaze scanning her from head to toe. It was a clinical, detached look—the way one might assess the condition of a valuable piece of property—yet there was no trace of malice in it. Talia asked, her voice uncharacteristically brittle.
“A… are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”
As she searched him with trembling eyes, she spotted smears of dark red blood on his collar. Talia reached out, her fingers hovering near his neck. It wasn’t his blood. As she let out a sharp sigh of relief, a sudden, prickling intensity made her scalp tingle.
She looked up to find Varkas staring down at her, his eyes slightly widened. She hastily pulled her hand back.
The silence stretched, cold sweat breaking across her skin. Perhaps it was bewildering to him that the woman who usually greeted him with blows or insults was now feigning concern. Talia stammered, scrambling for an excuse.
“If… if someone I’ve known for nearly ten years were to die right before my eyes, it would ruin my sleep, wouldn’t it? I don’t want to be haunted by nightmares because of you.”
“…It is fortunate, then, that I shall have no occasion to appear in your dreams, Your Highness.”
For some reason, the familiar, biting retort washed over her with a sense of relief. Talia’s shoulders, knotted with tension, slumped into a dull, aching exhaustion.
Just as Varkas began to turn, another scream pierced the distance. Talia whirled around, gasping. Monstrous, pitch-black silhouettes were blanketing the horizon.
The Imperial Guard beside her muttered, devastated.
“Why would a flock of wyverns be here now…”
“Stop wondering and get the suppression gear! Your Highness, follow me.”
Varkas regained his composure in an instant, gripping her wrist and pulling her across the chaotic encampment. Talia hurried at his back, her soles burning, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the scent of scorched earth.
Total chaos. It was the turmoil she had waited for, yet she felt no joy. Only a paralyzing terror coursed through her veins.
“Lord Siorcan! We’ve established a defensive line there!”
Someone bellowed as she stared in a trance at the creatures tearing through the supply carriages. Varkas led her to the center of the camp and turned, his tone absolute.
“Do not come out from behind this line.”
Talia looked around. A group of survivors was huddling behind a barricade of supply wagons.
“The carriages are reinforced with defensive magic,” Varkas said. “You will be safe here.”
“And you? What are you going to do?”
Varkas ignored her, turning his back on her to face the fray. Talia lunged forward, grabbing his arm.
“Are you insane? Where do you think you’re going?”
“The magic won’t hold long. We must cull them before the shields fail.”
He pried her fingers from his sleeve with firm finality and sprinted back toward the carnage. Talia watched his receding back, her expression shattered, before she broke into a frantic, stumbling run.
“No! Don’t go! Varkas! Varkas!”