Page 45 of Song of the Heart Scale (The Dragon’s Ballad #3)

DAMIEN

T he scent of smoke hung in the air like a warning.

I stood at the edge of the ridge, staring down at Dragon Valley in the distance as the morning sun crept over the horizon, bleeding orange and red into a sky far too calm for what was coming.

The land beneath my boots trembled as the tension of the realm coiled like a bowstring ready to snap.

This was it. The day everything changed.

My armor felt heavier than usual, not because of the weight, but due to the responsibility that came with it.

Before dawn, the encampment had burst to life behind me.

Soldiers—humans and dragon shifters—moved like clockwork as they sharpened blades, counted arrows, and whispered quiet prayers into the wind.

Clad in obsidian black, the Nightwing soldiers stood out among the rest, their expressions grim and resolute.

Lord Mercer was already giving orders near the command tent, his booming voice carrying over the morning hush.

Uncle Bai approached from my left, his silhouette cutting clean lines through the swirling mist. He was dressed in ceremonial battle robes, black with threads of silver that captured the light like lightning. His face, though weathered, betrayed little emotion. But his eyes... his eyes held worry.

“They’re ready,” he said simply.

I nodded. “Is Garrick back?”

“Not yet, but Klaus sent word through a raven that he and the fae are already in position, hidden along the western tree line. If Garrick’s done his part, the wards should fall just before we strike.”

“And if they don’t?”

Uncle Bai looked at me. “Then this turns into a massacre.”

A chill worked its way down my spine despite the heat of the rising sun.

I turned back to the valley. Dragon Valley’s outer wall shimmered faintly with magic.

Even from here, I could see the glow of enchantments—old ones, buried in blood and dragon fire.

But no ward was perfect. And today, we would find its weaknesses.

I descended the ridge with Uncle Bai beside me. Each step brought a new weight to my chest. As we passed through the camp, soldiers looked up. Some nodded. Others touched their weapons. One young girl barely old enough to be a soldier paused in lacing her boots to stare at me. I gave her a nod.

The twin flame mark burned on my forearm beneath the leather bracer.

Cat .

She was in there. Somewhere beyond those enchanted gates. And Thorne—

I clenched my fists. It took everything I had not to lose myself in the rage. Not now. Not yet.

Lord Mercer waited near the edge of the command post, his eyes as sharp as the spear strapped across his back. He was already in his armor—polished jet with a blood-red insignia stitched across his sash. The commander of the Nightwing looked like death incarnate. I was glad he was on our side.

“The soldiers are ready to move on your command, Your Highness,” he said with a short bow.

It still felt strange—being bowed to.

“Any sign of movement inside the valley?”

The commander shook his head. “Minimal patrols. They’re not expecting a coordinated assault.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

A horn echoed to the west. One long note.

Everyone stilled.

“The fae are in position,” Uncle Bai said quietly.

My heart thundered as I turned to the cliff again. Somewhere in that valley, Cat was either imprisoned or fighting to stay alive. And Thorne... Thorne would never see the dawn of another day.

“Light the signal,” I ordered.

Lord Mercer raised his arm. A moment later, a streak of flame shot into the sky from a dragon stationed at the ridge. It arced high and burst into shards of brilliant gold.

The battle had begun.

Chaos exploded all at once.

Fae archers rained silver-tipped arrows down from the western tree line, taking out imperial sentries posted along the outer walls.

Explosions rocked the southern gate as Lord Mercer’s siege mages cracked the enchantments with fire and force.

War cries filled the air—blended from throats of human, dragon, and fae.

I charged forward with the first wave.

My blade sang as it left its sheath, the steel glinting in the morning sun as we thundered down the ridge.

Dirt and ash kicked up around me as dozens—no, hundreds—followed.

Battle cries ripped through the air. The roar of a dragon echoed from above as Uncle Bai shifted mid-leap, his massive form taking to the skies to meet Thorne’s sentries head-on.

Steel clashed with steel. Magic hissed like acid. Fire erupted in geysers as wards failed and towers exploded.

I dodged a bolt of magic from a palace warlock and closed the distance, slashing my sword across his chest before he could conjure a second strike. Blood sprayed across my armor.

I didn’t stop.

We were cutting through the outer defenses like wildfire.

But it wasn’t easy.

A group of Thorne’s dragon guards landed hard, sending a shockwave through the ground that knocked half a dozen of our men back.

I slid into a crouch just as one of them barreled toward me, shifting mid-run.

I rolled and came up beneath his wing, then drove my sword into the softer scales near his ribs.

He roared in agony and twisted away, and I used his momentum to leap up and drive a second blow into his neck.

The battle was everywhere, punctuated by smoke, screams, and the acrid copper tang of blood in the air.

I caught a glimpse of Klaus darting through the chaos with knives flashing in each hand, his fae glamour wrapped around him like glistening armor. He grinned as he passed me, slicing down one of Thorne’s men with a flourish.

“Nice of you to finally throw a party!” he called over his shoulder.

“Save the quips for after we win!” I shouted back.

We pushed toward the inner wall.

Then came the second horn blast.

Uncle Bai’s signal. The wards were down.

The palace loomed ahead, shadowed and massive. I knew the corridors. I’d memorized the maps. Cat was in there.

I tore through another line of guards with a snarl, barely registering the pain blooming in my shoulder as a blade scraped my armor. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered until I reached her.

“Lord Mercer! Take the gate!”

The Nightwing Army surged forward. Flames licked across the walls. Arrows rained. Dragons flew overhead. And through it all, I kept moving, my vision narrowing to a single point:

Her.

Cat.

I was coming.

And Thorne was going to burn.

The clang of steel and roaring dragons echoed across the fields of Elaria.

Smoke curled into the sky like dark fingers clawing their way toward the sun and ash rained from above in thin, ghostly flurries.

I stood on the rise of a scorched hill with my sword drawn, the twin flame mark on my forearm burning as if it had a heartbeat of its own.

The wind carried the scent of fire and blood. War was no longer looming. It was here.

“They're moving into formation!” Jacob's voice came from my right, his armor gleaming beneath the overcast sky. He was already astride his black steed, his helm tucked under one arm, his expression grim.

I nodded. “Take a platoon to the eastern flank. Cut off any reinforcements coming from Dragon Valley. We can’t let them regroup.”

He offered a crisp salute. “Understood.”

Jacob had changed. The boy who once played war when I first met him ten years ago had grown into a man shaped by it. No longer the proud heir of a noble house, he was now one of the best soldiers under Lord Mercer’s command. Today, I trusted him with hundreds of lives.

“If Thorne sends in his winged guard, fall back into the trees. Use the terrain to your advantage.”

Jacob smirked. “You’re starting to sound like you care, Your Highness. I thought you’d stay mad at me about Arya.”

“I’m still mad, but I care about winning,” I said, though my voice lacked its usual frost. “Now go. And Jacob? Don’t die. She won’t forgive me if you do.”

He gave a brisk nod and turned, his horse thundering down the slope as Nightwing's cavalry followed him like shadows with blades.

Behind me, Uncle Bai approached with Garrick and Klaus in tow. The fae was draped in shimmering armor that didn’t look forged so much as woven from moonlight and starlight. He moved like a whisper, silent and dangerous.

“The wards have been brought down,” Garrick said, adjusting the straps of his breastplate. He still wore his signature grin, though it was tighter now, more forced. “Our magical support is in position. The fae will move when you give the word.”

Klaus yawned dramatically. “And here I thought war would be more thrilling. So far, it smells like burnt piss and sweaty leather.”

I didn't even blink. “Wait five more minutes. That’ll change.”

From the hill’s edge, we had an unimpeded view of Dragon Valley’s impressive gates—massive blackened stone carved into snarling dragon heads, flanked by Thorne’s crimson standards.

The gates were sealed, but not for long.

Inside, I knew Cat was trapped. Somewhere beyond that cold stone, she was either chained or worse.

But I would bring this realm to its knees before I let her remain there another day.

Uncle Bai handed me a piece of cloth. I looked down to see a piece of Cat’s dress, still holding her scent. Lavender and sunshine.

“I found it in your chambers,” he said. “You’ll want it with you.”

I tied it around my wrist.

Klaus cocked his head. “Getting sentimental, Your Highness?”

“No,” I said. “Getting ready.”

A blast of a war horn split the air. A moment later, a second echoed from the south. Then a third.

It was time.

I lifted my sword, the steel catching a flare of sunlight, and shouted, “Advance!”