Page 36 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons (Empire of Vengeance #4)
A s Sirrax's powerful wings carried us down through the smoke and chaos, I found myself forced to witness the systematic destruction of an army—an army I was supposed to be part of, fighting for a cause I had never believed in.
The Talfen were defending their homeland against invaders, fighting for the same freedom that burned in my own heart, and I was being ordered to help destroy them.
This is wrong, I thought as we swept over the carnage below. Everything about this is wrong.
But I had no choice. To refuse orders now would expose not only myself but potentially doom every enslaved dragon in the Imperial forces. So I guided Sirrax into formation with the other ten dragons, my hands steady on the reins even as my heart rebelled against every movement.
The battle below was unlike anything I had ever witnessed.
Shadows moved with malevolent intelligence across the valley floor, seizing Imperial soldiers and flinging them through the air like broken dolls.
Free dragons—dozens of them—wheeled and dove through the smoke with a grace and power that made our enslaved mounts look clumsy by comparison.
And everywhere, the sound of men dying in ways that defied natural law.
"Remember," Jalend's voice carried across our small formation as we approached the eastern slope, "stay tight, watch for the shadow magic, and don't get separated."
I wanted to admire his courage, leading eleven dragons into a battle that would likely claim all our lives. But watching him prepare to attack people who were fighting for their freedom left me feeling sick with conflicted loyalty.
The first strafing run was a nightmare of controlled chaos.
We swept low over the Talfen positions, breathing fire into the darkness while they responded with arrows and the terrifying tendrils of shadow magic that seemed to reach up from the ground itself.
I aimed Sirrax's flame deliberately wide, hoping it looked like combat stress rather than sabotage, praying that none of my supposed allies noticed my repeated "misses. "
But it was impossible to avoid all engagement. When a flight of free dragons rose to meet us, their movements fluid and purposeful compared to our rigid formations, I found myself face to face with everything I had dreamed of becoming.
These dragons flew without collars, without the brutal conditioning that turned magnificent beings into weapons of war. They moved like poetry in motion, every wingbeat a choice rather than a compulsion, every dive and climb an expression of free will rather than programmed behaviour.
One of them—a magnificent bronze with scales that gleamed like molten metal in the firelight—locked onto our formation with predatory focus.
I watched in fascination as it approached, noting the intelligence in its movements, the way it seemed to assess each of us individually before selecting its target.
It chose me.
The bronze dragon came in fast and low, claws extended for a killing strike that would have torn both Sirrax and me from the sky.
Standard Imperial tactics called for a defensive spiral followed by a counter-attack, using our dragon's collared obedience to maintain formation integrity while bringing superior firepower to bear.
Instead, I did something that would have gotten me court-martialled if anyone had been watching closely enough to understand what they were seeing.
I protected the attacking dragon.
As the bronze swept in for its strike, I guided Sirrax into a banking turn that positioned us between the free dragon and Valeria's mount, which had been moving to intercept.
Valeria's dragon breathed fire at empty air while the bronze sailed past unharmed, and in the confusion of smoke and motion, no one seemed to notice that my "evasive manoeuvre" had actually shielded our attacker from retaliation.
The bronze dragon shot past, its talons missing us by inches. For a fraction of a second, its intelligent eyes met mine, a flash of confusion in their fiery depths before it banked sharply and disappeared back into the swirling melee.
"What in the nine hells was that?" Valeria’s voice crackled with fury over the wind. "You flew right into my line of fire! Are you trying to get us all killed?"
"I panicked!" I yelled back, forcing a tremor into my voice that wasn't entirely faked. "It was coming right for us! I didn't see you!"
She watches , Sirrax sent, a low rumble of warning through our bond. Be careful, Little Warrior.
"Incompetent fool," Valeria spat, but before she could say more, Jalend's voice cut through the chaos.
"Reform! Western flank is collapsing! Move to support the Seventh!"
The order was a reprieve. I urged Sirrax into a sharp dive, leaving Valeria's fuming glare behind.
The bronze dragon was gone, swallowed by the war, but the memory of its startled gaze remained, a small, dangerous secret clutched tight in my chest. We swept lower, dragon fire and shadow magic erupting all around us.
Another Talfen dragon, a fierce green, burst from a cloud of smoke, its rider roaring a challenge.
This time, I had no choice but to engage.
Our dragons met with a clash of scale and claw that sent shudders through my entire body, a dance of death I was forced to lead against my own convictions.
I gritted my teeth, pulling hard on Sirrax’s reins as the green dragon raked its claws down his side. Pain, sharp and immediate, flared through our bond, but it was overshadowed by a cold, desperate fury. I am sorry, I thought to Sirrax, his pain flashing through the bond and making me gasp.
Sirrax responded to the attack with the brutal efficiency of his training, twisting in mid-air and snapping his powerful jaws just inches from the green dragon’s throat. I felt the sickening lurch in my gut as I guided him, my actions a betrayal of everything I was.
We were evenly matched in skill, but Sirrax was larger and stronger. We used that advantage, forcing the green dragon into a defensive spiral, pushing him lower toward the maelstrom on the ground.
The dragon fought back with desperate courage, but he couldn't break our momentum.
His wing, Sirrax sent. I can break it.
No! I commanded, my heart seizing. Force him down, but do not cripple him.
We slammed into them one last time, a bone-jarring impact that sent the green dragon reeling. It tumbled out of the sky, out of control but not mortally wounded, disappearing into the smoke below. I had won. And the victory tasted like ash.
The battle raged on around us, but my attention was consumed by a desperate search through the smoke and chaos below. Somewhere in that hell was Tarshi, fighting for the freedom of his people. I had to find him, had to somehow work with him.
But the more I searched, the more I realized the hopelessness of our situation.
The Imperial forces were being systematically destroyed by an enemy that wielded powers beyond our understanding.
Shadow magic tore through formations like a scythe through wheat, while free dragons struck with precision that spoke of unified command rather than chaotic resistance.
And we had the numbers. Hundreds of Talfen bodies already littered the valley floor, and they were piling up fast. We wheeled around, flying low, and I caught sight of the slaves.
Most had weapons, some from the frantic supply drop, others picked off fallen bodies of Talfen and Imperial soldiers.
My heart leapt to see Marcus and Antonius at the front, defending those who had less skill in combat.
For a moment, I was back in the arena again, watching them take out rival gladiators or giant skorpii.
They had never fought against shadows though, and yet…
I banked around, flying past again to confirm my thoughts, and I had been right.
I could see Marcus and Antonius fighting desperately alongside the other unarmed civilians. They were surrounded by the same supernatural carnage that was claiming Imperial soldiers by the hundreds, but the shadows seemed to avoid them entirely.
While tendrils of living darkness seized legionnaires and flung them through the air, the former gladiators fought with mundane weapons against conventional enemies.
The shadow magic that was devastating the military formations simply.
.. flowed around them, as if they weren't worth the attention of whoever controlled those terrifying forces.
The shadow mage is deliberately sparing the slaves, I realized with growing amazement. He's targeting the soldiers but leaving the non-combatants alone.
That observation crystallized a decision that had been building in my chest since the moment we'd entered this valley.
I couldn't continue this charade any longer.
I couldn't keep pretending to fight for an empire that enslaved dragons while the people who might accept my true nature died around me.
But before I could act on that decision, Jalend's voice cut through the chaos of battle.
"Livia! With me!"
I looked around to see him gesturing toward a position high above the main battle, where we could observe the overall tactical situation without being immediately engaged by enemy forces.
Part of me wanted to refuse, to break away from the Imperial formation and try to make contact with the free dragons.
But something in his voice—a note of desperate urgency that spoke of more than just military necessity—made me follow.
We climbed through the smoke-filled air until we reached a relatively clear space above the worst of the fighting.
From this vantage point, the scope of the disaster was even more apparent.
The Imperial army was trapped in a killing box with no escape routes, being systematically destroyed by an enemy that seemed to anticipate every tactical response.