Page 95 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Chapter Seventy-two

Cayden

I draw my blades again as the shadows create a wall at my back and circle the steel, stepping through the tree line as a shell of the man who entered it.

I died with my wife, and all that’s left is the need for vengeance.

As it did on our wedding, the moon overtakes the sun and plunges the world into darkness.

Maybe even the sky mourns Elowen, knowing she will never mount her dragons and fly through it again.

Her laughter will never caress the moon.

Her smile will never be lit by the stars.

Elowen took everything that made me human when her soul left her body, creating a void for power to fill. I sense everything, the water in the earth and in the bodies of the soldiers around me. I see the darkness within them, and I want to kill them all.

I don’t simply crave death.

I’ve become it.

I swipe my sword through the air, sending out a blade of shadows that severs a battalion in half.

My boots sink into bloody entrails as I continue advancing.

Someone calls out my name, but it’s not mine anymore.

Nothing is aside from this power. I raise my hands, summoning the water within the layers of the earth and sharpening it into points.

I listen to the terrified screams of those on the wrong side of the war, and I let the shards hang in the air for several prolonged seconds, relishing the sound before slamming my hands forward.

Ice shards spear their throats, eyes, legs, and armor. Death hangs heavy in the air, such a fulfilling smell.

I watch the world crumble through the holes of my helmet. The female dragons fly to the castle again, but the males most likely remain to guard Elowen. Even in death, they will never leave her. They burn and rip apart what remains of the stone until not even the outline of the structure remains.

Elowen’s revenge is carried out by those who will not let her die in vain.

Screams rise like the tide and wash over me like a wave.

The opposing army tries to run from me, and I utilize the shadows to drag some back.

The darkness wraps around their necks like ropes.

I let the others run for a bit, give them a shred of hope, before I manipulate the water that courses through their bodies to boil them alive.

No soldier who has picked up a sword against us today will be spared. They will suffer for what has been done. I don’t care if they weren’t directly responsible. I want them all to die. Each death makes me crave more, and I gorge myself on their agony, knowing it will never compare to mine.

“Bring me Nykeem!” I roar, my voice not sounding like my own. It’s so dark that it sounds demonic, and with the horns on my helmet, perhaps I’ve entered my true form. I was not made for happiness. I was made for war.

I send out another wave of shadows, killing countless soldiers in the span of a second.

They return to me, swirling around my arms and gathering around my hands as I continue trudging through the massacre of my own making.

The field is entirely red, and bodies upon bodies are piled everywhere.

Within my mind, I imagine the shadows as an army, an endless battalion of darkness, and will them to take on human forms. My power obeys, and their essence molds into soldiers with blades of ice, marching behind me as I begin slicing my way through my enemy and sending the shadows to do my bidding.

“brING HIM TO ME OR I WILL PEEL YOUR FLESH FROM YOUR BONES!”

The lines in front of me part, making way for Nykeem to step forward. A fresh wave of anger rushes through me, consumes me, and eats away at my morality that was already meager to begin with.

I’m nothing without Elowen, not even a man, and I want to reduce this mage to nothing.

I remove my helmet and toss it aside as the shadows shield me from a volley of arrows. I don’t want to miss a moment of this, and I want Nykeem to see my face as he dies. Nobody can save him, and if they try, I’ll cut them down.

I jam my bloody swords into the mud and leave them behind. I don’t want to bleed him dry; I want to drain the life out of him, rip it from him, and feast upon his screams.

I look down at Elowen’s name inked upon my finger and swipe away the mud and blood marring my skin. It creates a sticky rim around my wedding band, but I’ve never felt right taking it off. A shadow curls around it, like it longs to find any part of her and keep it close.

“For Elowen,” I say, charging forward.

Talons made of wispy darkness form at the tips of my fingers, and I claw my way through his magically made shield. Pulling it apart like wet clay, as Elowen once did. I never cease my movements as the mage tries to re-form it to keep himself safe from me.

I don’t need to get through it to kill him, but once it’s shredded to ribbons, I step forward and drag him up by his neck.

He gasps and sputters, and I cock my fist back before slamming it into his face, adding fresh blood to Elowen’s name like an offering.

This is all I can give her. I didn’t save her.

I promised to protect her, and I failed.

She died in my arms, bleeding out and in blinding pain, choking on her death while she tried to tell me she loved me.

If I had never found her, she’d still be alive.

I did this.

I roar, losing myself in violence, in the pain flooding through me sharper than any wound I’ve ever received or inflicted.

He drops to the ground when his face is unrecognizable, his nose crushed and his teeth littered around us.

My army of shadows still slays the enemies remaining, and the dragons return to the battle to fight alongside them, blowing dragonfire and scorching flesh and earth.

I kick him in his throat, and watch him grip it, sucking in breath like a wounded animal on his hands and knees.

It’s not enough. It will never be enough.

I pull upon my newfound powers, seeking the water within him, and shove it into his lungs, drop by drop.

He cries out, clawing at his chest, lying on his back as he gasps for air.

I swipe my hand, ordering the water to retreat to grant him the illusion of survival before doing it all over again.

Water pours from his mouth, and I order it to retreat again.

“Please,” he begs, sobbing and crawling toward my boots. “All I did was serve my king.”

“And all I’m doing is avenging my wife.” I jerk my leg back and kick him in the face. “You took her from me.” I step on his throat, slowly crushing his windpipe. “There is nothing human left within me, and the monster that resides in my flesh relishes in your agony.”

He claws at the leather covering my ankle, and I begin flooding his lungs again, keeping the pattern going as the sky turns red upon his death and the war is over.

Not won.

I lost everything.