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As the baying of warfare ratcheted, she lifted her arms and flung her weapons, steadfast and sure.
With all eyes fixed on their leviathan foes, none spotted her furtive move.
The daggers arced through the air, lighting up with an ethereal illumination as they raced towards their twin marks.
She held her breath, then felt the jolt as they hit, sinking into past scales and sinews, severing tendons, slicing arteries.
The SHärd psions flooded the wounds, delivering the final blow, cutting off all oxygen throughout the circuitry systems.
The Drákon Monarch of Isato fell, and she twisted midair, confused, unaware she’d been struck.
The Prince, too, mouth slack in shock but clinging on to consciousness.
Isaya’s panicked eyes darted around and met the Shotelai’s cool gaze, probing, asking a question even as terror overtook him.
She gave no answer, no response, only ice.
He jolted in realisation just as his wings withered and fell away.
His panicked, clawing form wheeled through the air in the wake of the Queen. Both Drákons scrabbled as their life force faded.
Seconds later, the titian bodies of Queen and Son exploded in a cloud of burnt sienna scales over the white boulders far below.
A roar of confusion rose from the ranks, for the formation floundered without the monarch at the helm.
The shikari closed off her heart from the pain of betrayal threatening to blade her soul in two.
Instead, she let herself nosedive away towards the mountains looming below.
Still, she kept her head cocked as she caught sight of the Drákon sub-commander, who darted his eyes around, seeking the assassin.
His crimson-lined gaze widened.
He pointed to her falling form.
At his screeched howl, a surge of forces leapt after her.
The woman maintained her calculated plummet through the air.
The sound of her ragged breaths filled her metsai helmet, drowning out the distant roars of the enraged army.
Somewhere deep within her, a silent scream echoed, the cry of a shattered soul, even as she fell with great speed to the surface.
Her eyes were drawn to the gold-drenched rays of the twin suns shining in between the rainfall of falling bodies and mist.
She held out her arms as her blades returned to her grip, still dripping with the ornate maroon blood of the Queen and her Son.
At her neural command, a waiting pinnace shot out from its hiding place amongst the crags of the snowed-in peaks.
She aimed towards it and dropped into the tiny cockpit with a thud.
Seconds later, the glass plex slid closed over her, and the flyer raced away.
Swivelling her head in retreat, she raised a brow as the sub-commander’s maddened red eyes glared at her. His mouth worked in a fury, his snarls snatched away by the derecho.
With a twist of her lips, she faced forward.
Just as she twisted her head, she sensed the ethereal presence at her shoulder.
