Page 32 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons (Empire of Vengeance #4)

T he morning we crossed into Talfen territory, I felt something shift in the very air around us.

It wasn't just the landscape changing—though the rolling hills and dense forests were markedly different from the Imperial borderlands—it was something deeper, more fundamental.

As if the land itself was holding its breath, waiting for the violence it knew was coming.

Sirrax shifted uneasily beneath me, a low rumble vibrating through his chest into mine.

I rested a hand on his neck, the scales warm and familiar, but I could offer no comfort.

This was his people’s land. Every ancient tree, every shadowed hollow, was part of a home he’d been stolen from, and we were the invaders.

The usual sounds of an army on the march—the jingle of harnesses, the tramp of thousands of feet—seemed swallowed by the immense, watchful silence of the woods.

The soldiers below me felt it too. Their jokes died on their lips, their eyes scanning the dense undergrowth with a new, nervous energy.

They held their spears a little tighter, their parade-ground confidence draining away with every step we took into enemy soil.

Ahead, at the head of our wing, Jalend rode with that same rigid posture he’d maintained since we left the Academy.

He was a perfect Imperial officer, a cold statue of silver and steel.

I watched him, searching for any crack in the facade, any hint of the man I loved.

He never looked back. It was as if a wall of ice stood between us, and with every step deeper into Talfen lands, it grew thicker.

I guided Sirrax in formation with the rest of Jalend's wing, maintaining the precise positioning that military protocol demanded, but my eyes were drawn inexorably to the devastation below.

What had once been a thriving Talfen settlement was now nothing more than blackened timber and ash-covered stone.

The skeletal remains of houses jutted up from the earth like broken teeth, and I could still smell the lingering scent of smoke despite the weeks or months that must have passed since the destruction.

How many people had lived here? How many children had played in these ruins before the Empire came?

A bitter, acidic taste rose in my throat.

This wasn't the lair of monsters; it was the grave of a community. I saw the ghost of a garden, the outline of what might have been a child’s swing hanging from a charred tree limb.

Through our bond, I felt Sirrax’s grief, a sharp, keening sorrow that was far more profound than any human emotion.

He was mourning a loss he couldn’t name, a memory buried deep in his blood.

Below, the soldiers marched through the ashes with a grim sort of triumph.

I saw one of them kick at a charred beam, his laughter ugly in the heavy silence.

They saw a victory. I saw a graveyard. My gaze snapped back to Jalend.

He hadn't slowed his pace. He rode through the centre of the desolation as if it were just another patch of road, his face impassive, his eyes fixed forward.

Did he feel nothing? Or was he just better at hiding the sickness that was churning in my own stomach?

A wave of fury, hot and clean, burned away some of my despair.

This was what he was leading. This was the “glory” of the Empire.

I looked away from his rigid back and stared into the deep, dark woods that flanked the road.

They were watching us. I could feel it, a thousand unseen eyes tracking our every move.

And for the first time since this nightmare began, I found myself hoping they would strike. I hoped they would burn us all.

"Stay in formation," one of the Wing Commanders called out, his voice carrying easily over the wind. "We're not here for sightseeing."

But I couldn't look away. Village after village passed beneath us, each one a testament to Imperial thoroughness.

Burned fields where crops had once grown.

Orchards reduced to blackened stumps. Wells filled with rubble to deny water to any survivors who might return.

This wasn't warfare—it was systematic annihilation.

They're trying to erase an entire people, I realized with growing horror. Not just defeat them, but make it as if they never existed at all.

Beneath me, Sirrax's flight pattern grew increasingly agitated. His great head turned from side to side, golden eyes scanning the devastated landscape with what looked like recognition. Or perhaps mourning.

Do you know this place? I asked him silently, the way I'd learned to communicate during our long hours together.

Knew many places such, came his response, heavy with an emotion I couldn't quite identify. Before collar time. Before forgetting came.

The other dragons in our formation were showing signs of distress too.

Valeria's mount kept drifting out of position, requiring constant correction.

Another dragon was making low, keening sounds that its rider seemed unable to stop.

It was as if the devastated landscape was awakening something in them— some buried memory or instinct that the collars couldn't quite suppress.

Tell me about shadow mages, I said, partly to distract Sirrax from his obvious distress and partly because Marcus's intelligence from the night before had been weighing on my mind. Are the rumours true?

Sirrax was quiet for so long I thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his mental voice was careful, measured.

Never saw one. Not in clear remembering time. But known among people, yes. Men-women who command darkness itself. Bend shadows to will. Use air for striking enemies.

The Imperial commanders seem afraid.

Should be afraid. There was something grim in his tone that made me pay closer attention. But shadow magic... comes with terrible cost.

What kind of cost?

Another long pause. Below us, the landscape continued to roll by in its endless tableau of destruction. Burned villages, poisoned wells, fields sown with salt to ensure nothing would grow again. The Empire's idea of conquest.

Lost humanity, Sirrax said finally. Shadow mages did. Magic... changed them. Made something else.

I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the wind. Changed them how?

Can understand, in way. His mental voice grew distant, reflective. Being forced stay this form so long. Feel human side eroding. Bit by bit. Thoughts becoming simple. Emotions dulling. If you not came, if you not reminded who was... might forgotten entirely.

The thought of losing Sirrax—not to death, but to a kind of living erasure—made my chest tight with panic. But you didn't forget. You're still you.

Am now. But shadow mages... went further down path.

Lost compassion. Lost humanity. Lost sanity.

Became creatures of pure purpose. Devoted only to destruction.

He paused, his flight pattern steady despite the dark turn of our conversation.

Magic consumed from within. Until nothing left but rage and power.

And now they're fighting for the Talfen.

If rumours true, yes. Though wonder if 'fighting for' right words. May simply be fighting against Empire. Not quite same thing.

The distinction chilled me more than I wanted to admit. The idea of mad, powerful beings driven by nothing but hatred and revenge—what would that mean for the coming battle? What would it mean for any of us caught in the middle?

We flew on in contemplative silence, the devastated landscape continuing to unfold beneath us like a scroll of Imperial crimes.

I found myself thinking of Tarshi and Septimus, somewhere out there in this wounded land.

Were they safe? Were they even still alive?

The not knowing was its own special kind of torture.

We shouldn't be here . None of us should be here. This is wrong.

Yes, Sirrax agreed simply. But are here. Now must decide what do about.

That was the question that had been haunting me since we'd left the capital.

When the fighting began—and it would begin, probably sooner than any of us wanted to admit—what would I do?

How could I raise my sword against people defending their homes from genocide?

But how could I not, when the alternative might be death for Marcus, Antonius, and myself?

I've been thinking, I said carefully, about what happens when the battle starts.

And?

I can't fight the Talfen. I won't. The decision felt right the moment I voiced it, like a weight lifting from my shoulders. Whatever the cost, I won't be part of this slaughter.

May mean fighting Imperial soldiers instead.

I know. The thought terrified me, but it also felt inevitable. Will you help me? When the time comes?

You freed mind, Sirrax replied without hesitation. Gave back humanity. Of course will help.

The relief I felt at his words was overwhelming. Whatever happened in the coming battle, I wouldn't face it alone. We would find a way to protect ourselves without participating in genocide, or we would die trying. There were worse fates than death.

We were perhaps three hours into Talfen territory when the landscape began to change again.

The devastation was older here, the burned villages reduced to mere stains on the earth.

But there were also signs that people had tried to return—small gardens carved out of the ash, temporary shelters built from salvaged materials.

The Empire might have burned these places, but they hadn't succeeded in driving the Talfen away entirely.

"Movement ahead," one of the scouts called out, his voice carrying the tension of a man straining his eyes against the distance. "Smoke rising from the south!"

I followed his pointing finger and saw it—a dark column rising from what looked like a valley far behind us. For a moment, I thought it might be another burned village, but the smoke was too thick, too fresh.