Evelyn tried not to sigh as she hoisted yet another bundle of supplies onto the back of a tired packhorse. Around her, the war camp sprawled in a chaotic grid of tents and wagons, each corner brimming with activity. Soldiers jostled by carrying fresh provisions, bows, and quivers; blacksmiths hammered out last-minute repairs; the relentless crackle of fires lingered under the tang of cooking stew. It was a far cry from the refined studies and diplomatic sessions she was used to.
She brushed the hair from her forehead with a quick, frustrated motion. “I’m supposed to be advising Cedric on strategy, not hauling barrels and feed sacks,” she groused silently, setting down the supply bundle with more force than necessary.
“Every small action matters,” Lyra’s soothing voice chimed in her head, her usual motherly tone gently scolding. “You’re new here. This is part of proving yourself.”
“I know… but it’s not enough,” Evelyn retorted mentally, biting back the urge to snap at the constellation. She knew Lyra only meant well, but the slow pace of her integration into Cedric’s command galled her. She’d expected to dive into tactical planning or negotiations, not menial tasks.
Still, she persevered. In the days since they’d departed, she’d helped distribute rations, tidy up supply lists, and run messages between various squad leaders. Doing her part, as Lyra insisted. Yet she couldn’t shake the nagging question: Why did Cedric bring me at all if this is all he wants me for?
She cut across the camp, carefully winding her way past a cluster of horses being watered. The sun was hitting its peak; a heavy, simmering warmth soaked the clearing. Her eyes flicked to the central tent, where Cedric typically met with Emrick. The same irritation rose at the thought of Emrick, with his ever-present scowl and exasperated scoffs. Just that morning, he’d snapped at her for handing out rations “in the wrong order,” as if it was any of his concern.
She spotted him now; standing by a campfire, instructing a young soldier on the proper stance when wielding a short blade. Even from a distance, he cut an imposing figure: tall, broad-shouldered, skin deep and rich like the earth. A worn eyepatch covered his left eye, while his right one gleamed amber in the firelight. His tangled, matted black hair hung past his shoulders, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise stern bearing.
Handsome, in a harsh, dangerous way, Evelyn found herself thinking. She let out a small huff, reminding herself she had no time to be admiring the man who seemed bent on criticizing her every move.
He barked orders to the young soldier, pointing out footwork details before suddenly sweeping the poor lad right off his feet in a quick demonstration. The soldier appeared furious for a split second, then quickly shrank back under Emrick’s piercing stare. At least I’m not the only one he’s short with, Evelyn mused.
Lyra stirred, catching the flicker of her thoughts. “You don’t hate him,” the constellation teased softly, a hint of laughter in her tone. “He’s just difficult.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Difficult is putting it mildly.” She recalled last night’s clash—Emrick had all but chased her away from the ration storage, grumbling about “pampered noble girls” getting in the way. The memory still stung.
Yet despite his snappish attitude, she noticed how Emrick managed everything Cedric didn’t directly handle: from arranging scouting parties to ensuring weapons were properly inventoried. She’d even seen him reminding Cedric to eat, thrusting a bowl of stew into the warlord’s hands when he was too busy to think about his own needs. The synergy between them was clear, a well-practiced rhythm of soldier and commander. Cedric’s plus-one, indeed.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she recalled Emrick’s irritated tone the previous evening. He’d caught her offering seconds to a couple of soldiers who looked half-starved, and he’d wasted no time criticizing her about supply levels. “We can’t afford your soft heart,” he’d snarled, and she’d bristled, snapping back some defense she could scarcely remember. But later, part of her wondered if he was right—if being too generous now might starve them later.
She halted near a table stacked with linen, glancing around for a moment of respite. Right on cue, she spotted Cedric huddled with another group of lieutenants, Emrick just a few paces from him, arms folded. Watching them, she noticed how often Cedric glanced Emrick’s way, as though seeking a nod or a frown to gauge his reactions. Emrick truly is his second-in-command, she realized. Does Cedric even know how much this man does for him?
The question nagged at her, sparked by both curiosity and a twinge of something else. She shook it off, reminding herself that she had her own tasks to manage. Or at least, tasks assigned by people who didn’t fully trust her yet.
Suddenly, Emrick peeled away from Cedric’s group, striding across the camp. Evelyn braced herself, but he didn’t look her way, instead heading off toward another tent. She exhaled a wave of relief, wanting to avoid his ire. “Lyra, what’s wrong with me?”
“Don’t overthink it,” Lyra murmured kindly. “You’re doing well.”
“Am I?” She couldn’t help wondering whether she’d ever prove herself enough for Cedric to let her actually advise. She stared at the flame-scorched canopy above the main tent. “It has to happen eventually… right?”
Lyra was right, though. Every small action mattered. She forced herself to bury her frustration and step forward, pulling a stack of linens into her arms. She might not be leading strategy sessions or commanding a squad, but she was here, part of the war effort—no matter how trivial it might feel.
In the corner of her eye, Emrick reappeared, issuing brisk orders to another soldier. His amber gaze flicked briefly in her direction, sparking an instant tension in her gut. She turned away, swallowing the knot of annoyance—and, if she was honest, begrudging admiration. For now, she’d haul linens, distribute rations, or do whatever else was required. Cedric had included her for a reason, even if she couldn’t see it yet.
***
They had been on the road for days, following a winding stretch of dusty terrain and sparse greenery that at times felt more endless than any battlefield. The caravans moved at a measured pace—faster than a common wagon train, but slower than an elite cavalry. Every dawn brought a fresh flurry of activity: soldiers collapsing tents, packing supplies, and hitching horses to wagons. By midday, the sun’s heat weighed heavily, the ground baked and strewn with loose stones that made each footstep jolt through weary legs.
Evelyn found her place in this routine, helping where she could: distributing rations, crossing off inventory lists, and checking on the morale of soldiers who’d grown familiar with her gentle manner. She was an odd mix between participant and observer, but it gave her a chance to see Cedric and Emrick in action—often side by side, briefing squads or planning routes with map scrolls spread across a makeshift table.
Cedric wore the mantle of leadership with a steady, pragmatic approach, his gaze constantly scanning for trouble on the horizon. He pushed his men to stay disciplined, but always remained approachable—willing to listen to concerns, settle disputes, and even lend a hand with the more menial tasks whenever necessary. Meanwhile, Emrick served as a gruff overseer who took care of a thousand little details that might otherwise escape Cedric’s notice. He was often found barking instructions to the front line, teaching younger recruits defensive maneuvers, or hashing out supply issues. If Cedric was the figurehead, Emrick was the engine.
For Evelyn, day after day felt like a test of her endurance. She observed war councils from a distance, occasionally passing messages or retrieving a missing ledger, yet rarely did anyone ask for her opinion. Lyra kept insisting she be patient, but she still woke every morning hopeful for a real chance to advise Cedric.
One evening after camp had been set up—tents pitched and cooking fires lit—Evelyn found herself alone in her quarters, a space Cedric had insisted she have to herself. The tent was modest but cozy, with a woven rug covering the trampled ground. Near the entrance stood a low table holding her notes and a brass lamp. A half-dozen pillows formed a comfortable seating area where she often read or penned down thoughts in the evening.
She was sorting through some charts—mostly scribbles she’d conjured up about troop formations and possible scouting routes—when a rustle at the tent flap caught her attention. Her heart skipped a beat. Cedric? Perhaps he’d finally decided to include her in a serious discussion about tactics. She set her notes aside quickly, brushing away a stray lock of hair and trying not to look too eager.
But as the flap parted, it wasn’t Cedric’s dark silhouette she saw. Instead, Lord Harrick stepped in, stooping slightly to pass under the low opening. She caught a glimpse of her own disappointment reflecting in the swirl of lamp light, and Harrick must have seen it too, because he let out a warm, hearty laugh.
“Ah, well, don’t look too displeased, Lady Evelyn,” Harrick teased, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “I may not be who you were hoping for, but I can still manage a decent hello.”
Evelyn managed a small laugh of her own, standing to greet him with a short, respectful nod. “My apologies. Of course, I’m glad to see you, Harrick.”
He motioned for her not to bother with formality, setting a hand gently on her shoulder. “No need for that nonsense. May I come in?”
“Please,” Evelyn replied. She beckoned him inside, gesturing toward the cluster of pillows in the center of the tent. As she moved, she tugged her shawl a bit tighter around her shoulders—just in case.
Harrick settled onto the cushions with an appreciative sigh, removing his gauntlets and placing them aside. Evelyn had always seen him as a comforting presence; a family friend rather than just a battle-hardened officer. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, and his dark leather armor bore the scars of old battles, yet the warmth in his eyes kept him from seeming too formidable.
“I’ve been meaning to catch up,” he admitted. “The days are running together, and my own men have had me chasing every minor crisis along the way.” His gaze flicked around, taking in the neat arrangement of Evelyn’s notes and the small personal touches—a borrowed lantern, a miniature star map pinned to the canvas wall. “Cedric’s provided you with comfortable quarters, at least,” he remarked, a note of approval in his voice.
Evelyn smiled slightly, taking a seat across from him. “He has. I suppose being a traveling advisor comes with some privileges.” She exhaled, the day’s fatigue weighing on her shoulders. If you can even call me that. “I was surprised to see you though. With how busy you are, I figured you had more pressing matters than visiting me.”
Harrick made a dismissive gesture. “We’re all stuck on this dusty road together, might as well make time. Besides, I wanted to check on you.” His features softened, and he leaned forward. “How are you holding up, truly?”
She paused, wrapping the shawl more securely. “It’s… a lot. I’m trying to find my footing. To be useful in the war effort, I mean. But so far I haven’t contributed much beyond menial tasks.”
A sympathetic smile curved Harrick’s lips. “That’s not nothing. Cedric’s men rely on well-managed supplies and consistent morale. Don’t underestimate how vital those things can be.”
Evelyn dipped her chin, letting out a slow breath. “So I've heard, but I can’t help feeling like I’m waiting for a real assignment. Something significant.”
Harrick nodded, then shifted topics with a gentle prod. “So what made you join Cedric’s ranks, of all people? I’m aware of your family’s ties with diplomatic relations, but this… I suppose I’m just curious.”
She paused, letting the silence stretch. Then she caught sight of the genuine interest in Harrick’s watchful face, and chose to speak plainly.
“I admire him,” she admitted softly. “He was with King Aldric in those last moments. And from what I’ve heard, he’s dedicating everything—his life—to defending the realm from the Starless. I…” She folded her hands together, bracing herself. “I know the Starless aren’t a simple threat. They’re a scourge unlike any normal army, and if Cedric can hold them at bay, I want to help.”
Harrick shifted on the cushions, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded Evelyn with something like concern. “Listen,” he began carefully, “I know you respect Cedric and his cause. But you do realize the Starless aren’t the only threat. Cedric is Starbonded. That power doesn’t just scare enemies—it draws them. If the Starless catch our trail, it means bigger trouble for everyone, including you.”
Evelyn tensed, sensing the caution in his tone. “I know,” she said, gently tugging her shawl back over one shoulder. “I’m not naive. I’ve seen what happens when a Starbonded’s presence is discovered. But…” She paused, swallowing the knot in her throat. “I trust Cedric. If it comes to that, I believe he’ll protect me. And I’m not exactly helpless.”
A hint of unease flickered across Harrick’s features, and he glanced aside, as though he wanted to argue but decided against it. “You’re strong,” he agreed quietly, “stronger than most give you credit for. But don’t underestimate our enemies. They’ll latch onto any opening they find.”
She merely nodded, jaw set. “I won’t.”
They lapsed into a short silence, the tent’s warm lantern glow reflecting off the worn leather of Harrick’s scarred armor. At last, he cleared his throat. “Valron sends his regards,” he said in a tone that suggested it was anything but cordial. “He’s furious with you for leaving, you know. Hinted he might ride out to drag you back himself.”
Evelyn’s lips thinned. She’d expected Valron’s anger—her uncle never took kindly to “unapproved” endeavors. “Let him be angry,” she muttered. “I made my choice, and I stand by it. I’m not going back.”
A weary sigh escaped Harrick. “You really are your father’s daughter.” He rose from the cushions, gathering his gauntlets. “Just… be careful. If Cedric can’t or won’t keep an eye on you at all times, you’ve got more than just Starless to worry about.”
She stood as well, pushing back a stray curl from her face. “I’ll manage,” she said softly, though her heart clenched at the reminder of how precarious her situation was. “Thank you, Harrick. And sorry for—”
He shook his head, a faint smile crossing his lips. “Nothing to apologize for. We’ll talk again soon.” Casting one last glance around, he tilted his head in a respectful half-bow. “Until then, Eve.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
He bowed out of her tent with a final, fond grin. As the canvas door flapped closed behind him, Evelyn caught a glimpse of the waning daylight beyond, the campfire smoke drifting upward to the sky. A faint flicker of hope sparked within her—maybe she wasn’t so out of place after all, and maybe tomorrow Cedric would call her in for more than ration-tallying.
But until then, she’d keep doing her best—carrying out tasks, offering guidance where she could, and hoping Cedric would soon realize just how much she had to offer.
***
A few days later, Cedric’s forces reached the wide mouth of the mountain pass, where Harrick’s group would separate from theirs. Evelyn had already shared a meaningful farewell with Harrick earlier that morning, recalling how he’d clasped her hand and whispered for her to stay safe. Now, she watched from a distance as Harrick and Cedric exchanged a grave, low-voiced conversation. Though she couldn’t catch their words, she recognized the gravity in their expressions. With a firm nod, Harrick steered his riders onto a branching route, leaving Cedric’s force to press onward.
The road tightened between steep cliffs, the sun a mere glow above the peaks. Hoofbeats echoed on hard-packed stone, and the chill of the winding path set everyone on edge. Horses were tacked and loaded, men clutched their reins with white-knuckled grips.
Evelyn rode in the rear at first, but her attention drifted to the front line when she noticed Emrick’s rigid posture. He guided his horse alongside Cedric’s, scanning the cliffs as though expecting trouble. Something about his stance pricked her instincts.
Curiosity gnawing at her, Evelyn nudged her horse forward. Gusts of wind swirled sand and dust between the rocks, and more than one recruit coughed under the grit-laden air. Eventually, she pulled up alongside Emrick, eyeing him warily. His single amber eye glinted with worry, and the deep lines of his face gave away his unease.
“Emrick,” she said in a hushed tone, keeping an eye on the ridge high above them. “Something on your mind?”
He didn’t shift his gaze, scanning the jagged cliffs that loomed around them. “Our scouts should’ve rejoined us by now, but there’s been no sign or word.” He ran a calloused hand through his tangled black hair, clearly uneasy.
Evelyn chewed her lip. “Could the weather have slowed them? The storms on the far side of the pass were pretty intense.”
He shook his head, expression grim. “Not likely. They’d send a runner if plans changed. This silence…” He paused, drumming his fingers on the reins. “It doesn’t feel right.”
Before she could respond, Emrick jerked his horse sideways—straight into hers. With a startled yelp, Evelyn lost her balance, tumbling from her saddle and hitting the rocky ground. The impact jarred her bones, but it was nothing compared to the sudden hiss of an arrow slicing through the air.
A sharp thunk sounded as the arrow embedded itself in Emrick’s horse, right where Evelyn’s chest would have been. The animal reared with a shrill scream, toppling Emrick off in a violent crash. Gravel and dust sprayed as he thudded to the ground, cursing. Then his voice rose in a furious roar: “Ambush!”
Chaos erupted around them in the blink of an eye. Soldiers scrambled to shield themselves behind boulders or use their horses as cover, while Cedric spun in the saddle, barking urgent orders. Another arrow whizzed overhead, narrowly missing a rider who dropped low against his horse’s neck. Evelyn, breath caught in her throat, scrambled to her feet, adrenaline pounding in her ears as she scanned the cliffs for the archers. Her heart hammered, the unmistakable whistle of more arrows slicing through the air.
Suddenly, a fresh barrage of shafts rained down from the cliffside, plunging the pass into even deeper chaos. Startled horses neighed in panic, and men rushed to arm themselves amidst the cacophony. Steel clanged against stone, echoing through the narrow gorge, and voices roared above the tumult. Cedric’s shortcut through the din: “Shields up! Archers, return fire!”
Emrick cursed under his breath, dropping to one knee beside Evelyn to make sure she was steady. “Damn it,” he snarled, his gaze sweeping the cliffs. “We anticipated bandits, but not in these numbers.”
Sure enough, a ragtag swarm of bandits began to swarm the pass walls, some firing arrows from precarious ledges, others skidding down the slopes, weapons brandished. Cedric spurred his horse forward with a rallying cry, and a knot of soldiers followed, arrows whizzing overhead as they closed in on the first wave of attackers.
Emrick growled, grabbing her elbow. “Find cover—now!”
She started to protest, her heart pounding from the near-miss arrow that had nearly ended her seconds ago. “I’m not running,” she snapped.
Emrick hissed in frustration but had no time to argue. He pulled her to her feet and practically thrust her behind the nearest boulder. Another volley of arrows thudded into the ground around them. “Stay down!”
A flash of motion caught her eye—a burly bandit charged straight at them through the chaos, a wickedly curved blade raised high. Instinct thundered in her veins, and before she could think, her hand latched onto the hilt of Emrick’s sword, half unsheathed at his belt. She yanked it free, ignoring his startled shout, and lunged toward the oncoming attacker.
Steel met flesh with a sickening scrape as she drove the blade into the bandit’s gut. He crumpled, eyes wide in shock, then slid off the weapon, leaving her trembling in place, sword in hand.
Emrick reeled back, his mouth parted in stunned disbelief. “Eve—” he began, but another scattering of arrows forced him to move. He yanked her arm, desperate to pull her back behind cover, but in his urgency, his fist caught the edge of her shawl. The fabric tore free, exposing the faint starlit patterns etched into her skin.
For a split second, despite the maelstrom of battle, Emrick’s gaze snagged on the glowing threads of her markings, wide-eyed realization. He opened his mouth, but no words escaped. Not the time, his stony expression seemed to say.
Across the pass, the clang of swords and cries of men filled the air. Cedric’s voice soared over the cacophony once again, commanding the lines to hold strong. Arrows bit into the dirt; a soldier crumpled nearby, while another seized the fallen’s shield and kept running.
Breathing hard, Evelyn forced herself to focus. She could think about her secret later—if there was a later. The bandits had turned the pass into a battlefield, and she refused to watch from the sidelines. Sword still slick with blood, she and Emrick exchanged a swift, unspoken look of resolve, pushing aside the shock for survival’s sake.
But before the next clash could unfold, an eerie, ethereal roar ripped through the air like thunder, powerful enough to silence ally and enemy alike. In that instant, the battle froze in collective dread. Every gaze swung toward the ridge above, where a sickening procession took shape: hundreds of Starless emerged in a twisted line, contorting themselves over the rocks and loose gravel.
They moved like a nightmarish tide, some loping forward on elongated legs—jointed wrong, as though their bodies had been snapped and rearranged. Others scuttled on all fours, hunched and wolf-like, their spines arching unnaturally beneath skin that glowed with sickly starlight. Flesh at their joints gaped and cracked, flickers of luminescence pulsing beneath the fissures, and their open mouths stretched grotesquely wide, every jaw seeming unhinged beyond human possibility.
Slowly, one creature at the front leaned back on its haunches and emitted another otherworldly roar, a howl that soared above the wind and caused even the boldest soldiers to stiffen. As if responding to an unspoken command, the entire pack poured down the slope with unnerving coordination. Their collective movement rattled pebbles free from the craggy heights, sending them skittering onto the road below.
Limbs dangled at odd angles, flopping and dragging as some of the creatures bounded down as though gravity held no true mastery over them. Their eyes—pale hollows of light—reflected the day’s waning sun like a row of ghastly lanterns, each glare brimming with mindless hunger. Tendrils of glowing saliva splattered from gaping mouths as they rushed nearer, and an unsettling chorus of clicks, growls, and ragged breathing filled the pass with discordant, hideous music.
Within heartbeats, the Starless reached the edges of the battlefield, their inhuman figures pressing in like a malignant flood. Soldiers and bandits alike stood transfixed, faces ashen, as if staring into the maw of an oncoming nightmare. Then, with snarls and shrieks, the first wave crashed into the scattered defenders, limbs clawing for purchase, mouths snapping in voiceless, voracious hunger. The entire pass seemed to quake beneath their onslaught, and at once the dreadful battle resumed—a clash of steel, screams, and star-broken monstrosities that moved far too fast for human comfort.
Cedric’s command to fall back thundered over the clash of steel and the shriek of horses, but as Evelyn cast a glance at him, she saw a searing fury twist his features—not the measured anger of a noble but the raw wrath of a leader who refused to see his people slaughtered. His sword glinted with lethal purpose as he dismounted his horse and paced forward, each stride brimming with an unspoken vow to stand between his men and the monstrous threat.
Beside her, Emrick fought to rein in his dread. The smell of sweat and fear clung to the air. “You—keep that sword,” he snarled over the din, Moving forward to aid Cedric but not before shouting back. “But use it, or you’re no good to anyone!”
Evelyn’s breath caught in her chest, heart pounding, but she forced her voice to stay steady. Lyra’s urgent cry echoed in her mind—“Run, child! This is beyond you!”—yet she pushed aside the instinct to flee. “I can’t just hide,” she told her fiercely.
Evelyn pivoted and ran toward the rear lines, not to escape but to help direct the chaos. Soldiers and wounded men clustered there in disarray, some struggling to find cover while others fumbled with supplies. If she couldn’t stand on the front line, at least she could ensure the rest of the force didn’t collapse under the onslaught.
Around them, the thunder of hooves and the frantic neighing of terrified mounts intensified as more soldiers tried to peel away from the Starless onslaught. Evelyn straightened her shoulders, turning to a squad of archers who looked on the verge of panic. “Aim for the Starless!” she shouted, “Slow them down—buy Cedric time to take them out!”
The men nodded hesitantly before ducking behind scraps of wagon and boulders. A volley of arrows hissed through the air, streaking into the tide of twisted bodies. At the same moment, a ragged cry rose from the far side of the pass, where bandits—once the attackers—now abandoned the field in disorganized terror. At least one threat is gone, Evelyn thought grimly, struggling to direct a couple of soldiers to haul away the wounded. Everywhere, men fought for their lives, grunts of pain mixing with terrified shouts.
Then, she spotted Cedric at the front lines.
He stood like a beacon in the heart of the fray, his constellation marks blazing with an otherworldly radiance. Flames danced at his boots, licking the ground in spiraling tongues. A single roar tore from his lips—half-human, half-monstrous—and Evelyn’s blood ran cold at the sheer force of it. Soldiers around him parted in shock and awe, unable to keep fighting for a heartbeat.
A hush of disbelief rippled outward as scales began to crawl over Cedric’s arms and neck, each iridescent like molten gold. He threw his head back, arcs of starlight crackling up his spine. Then, with a burst of searing heat, wings emerged—a dragon’s wings, laced with shimmering veins that pulsed like living embers.
Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat, her grip on the borrowed sword tightening. She felt Lyra’s awe coiling with her own sense of disbelief. So this is Draco’s power, she realized, heart hammering. No wonder men say he’s unstoppable.
Cedric shot forward, wings hammering the air in a roar of scorching wind. He dove straight into the oncoming Starless, sword wreathed in a halo of living flame. The creatures howled as he struck, their shrieks mixing with the roar of fire. In the light of that inferno, each swing of his blade cut through twisted flesh like paper, slicing limbs and heads in sickening arcs. Unholy ichor sprayed in all directions, and the Starless reeled back in agony.
High above, archers continued their barrage, arrows arching through the hazy sunlight to puncture the Starless ranks. The creatures advanced by the dozen, some charging on all fours with ragged snarls, others leaping from craggy outcrops in a frenzy of limbs and claws. The pass rang with the thunder of their approach—impossible to ignore, impossible to escape.
Yet Cedric flitted among them, a one-man storm of fire and fury. Embers traced his every motion, scales gleaming as he slashed and roared. Each explosive crack of flame sent starlit monstrosities reeling, their vacant eyes wide with a rare flicker of terror.
Evelyn clutched the hilt of Emrick’s sword, trying to steady her trembling arms. She helped another wounded soldier to safety behind a half-collapsed boulder, heart pounding in her ears. A fresh wave of Starless screeches tore through the pass, and she spun just in time to see a gaunt figure lurching straight for her. Sunken eyes, jaws unhinged in a silent snarl, its skin glowed with faint, sickly fissures of starlight.
Her stomach dropped, but she forced her legs to move. “Forward, Evelyn!” Lyra’s voice urged, half a prayer, half a command. She rushed to meet the creature, parrying wildly with a yelp as it slashed out. The impact jarred every bone in her arms; she stumbled, almost falling beneath its savage strength.
“Keep it together,” she gasped to herself. Summoning a burst of courage, she sidestepped its next strike and drove her sword upward. The blade bit deep into its torso, releasing a wet, starlit screech. She wrenched her weapon free, stepping back as it crumpled, limbs spasming. I can’t stop now.
Tearing her gaze away, she scanned the battlefield for more allies in danger. She spotted Emrick yelling an order, then charging a cluster of Starless at the periphery. Soldiers rallied behind him, brandishing spears and forming a loose defensive line. The pass roiled with desperate activity, men straining to hold off the unending wave of horrors.
And through it all—Cedric. Towering above the conflict on sweeping dragon wings, fire flickering across the edges of his scales, he rained down punishment like an ancient beast awakened from slumber. Where he passed, Starless fell, shrieking in agony. Where he didn’t pass, the monsters kept coming.
Gritting her teeth, Evelyn directed a few more archers to shift positions and target a knot of Starless nearing the wounded. All the while, her gaze kept flicking back to Cedric, transfixed by the savage brilliance of his constellation-fueled battle. This was the fight for their survival—man versus monstrosity—and Cedric was holding nothing back.
A spark of awe ignited in her chest, mingling with adrenaline and fear. We can do this, she thought, her spirit lifting at the sight of the Starless legion faltering under Cedric’s wrath. With Lyra’s supportive murmur echoing in her mind, she rallied, shouting for medics, guiding more of the injured to safer ground.
The roars and screams continued, echoing off the stone walls of the pass. Arrows, fire, and starlight flooded every corner of the battlefield, forging an apocalyptic vision. And yet, through that chaos, Evelyn found a grim sort of hope. If Cedric could hold on just a little longer—if they all could—then maybe they’d stand a chance at seeing the other side of this day.
Then, with a roar that shook the pass, she watched as Cedric launched himself into the air once more, hovering just above the carnage. The swirling dust and embers danced around him, framing him in a tempest of starlight and fury. His gaze swept the battlefield, and for one erratic heartbeat, all eyes—Starless, soldier, bandit—focused on him.
He thrust his free hand out, gathering the last reserves of Draco’s power. Fire lanced up along his arm, a river of molten light rushing toward the blade in his grip. The air crackled with tension. The final Starless, frenzied and vicious, closed in from multiple angles, jaws gaping in monstrous hunger.
But Cedric dove straight into their center, wings fanning out in a shower of embers. One sweeping strike tore through a half-dozen fiends, sending them sprawling in a smoldering heap. Fire surged at his heels, and he unleashed a thunderous burst of starlit flame, incinerating the last cluster of Starless in a conflagration that left them shrieking as they collapsed, their grotesque limbs twitching in defeat.
For a moment that felt both terrifying and transcendent, the pass fell silent save for the crackle of dying flames. Evelyn pressed her trembling hand to her mouth, hardly believing what she’d witnessed. Cedric, wings fanning the sulfur-choked air, hovered above the fallen Starless like a vengeful spirit of ancient myth. Even from a distance, she sensed the furious heat radiating off him.
Then, as if the fight had finally exacted its toll, he drifted downward. The glow of his constellation markings began to fade from a scorching blaze to a subdued shimmer. His once-unbreakable stance wavered; scales peeled away in embers, revealing ordinary flesh beneath. The dragon wings dissolved, scattering sparks like a dying starfall.
He plunged his sword into the stone in a burst of finality, flames licking up the blade before sputtering out. The clang reverberated in Evelyn’s ears. Cedric sagged, still upright for a heartbeat, chest heaving. Around him, soldiers stared, both horrified and awestruck—some bloodied, some barely standing. But the Starless were done. The ravaged pass lay silent, littered with warped bodies and fading embers.
Cedric met no more resistance—only emptiness. Slowly, he sank to his knees, the once-blazing eyes going dull. Evelyn’s breath seized. No, no, no…
She bolted forward, stumbling over the remnants of the battle. Emrick got there first, nearly sliding to Cedric’s side. “Cedric!” he roared, voice cracking, his expression wide with alarm. Cedric swayed, then crumpled onto the blood-streaked ground, unconscious before he hit it.
A hush settled like a heavy shroud. Soldiers murmured in stunned whispers; even the wind paused as if not to interrupt the moment. Evelyn dropped down beside Emrick, panic twisting in her chest. The man who’d moments ago raged like a living dragon now lay motionless, the cost of his power laid bare.
“Medic!” Emrick bellowed, barely holding back a surge of panic. “Damn it, someone find a medic—now!”
Evelyn’s hands shook as she reached out, but Emrick’s arm blocked her path, his own terror thinly veiled behind a scowl. Figures converged around Cedric with hurried steps—some to tend him, others standing guard. All Evelyn could do was watch, heart pounding, as the soldiers who still drew breath formed a ragged circle, protective and reverent.
She glanced at the field of Starless corpses, the lingering smoke wisping around ghastly shapes. He saved us, she thought, her mind spinning. And I don’t even know if he’ll be all right.
Biting her trembling lip, Evelyn closed her eyes for an instant, silently imploring Lyra for hope—or a miracle. This victory had been earned at a terrifying price.
