I don't have to think about what to do next.
I just know.
I stand as if nothing is there to stop me. Strength surges through me like a living, bristling beast, exerting pressure against everything still holding me back. The bindings all give way at once, and the fire that flares around me in the next moment is so bright it's like the sun itself has tumbled into the cave.
Cries of surprise and distress erupt from the soldiers. When the light dims, all six of them are cowering away from me, arms thrown up to shield their faces. Two of them turn and run from the cave immediately. The other four are braver, backing slowly toward the exit while keeping a wary eye on me.
My skin is smoking, still woven through with fiery veins. Inhuman strength continues to ripple through my muscles. My vision is part human, part dragon, full of burning rage but narrowed in with newly-focused purpose.
One of the fleeing soldiers dropped his sword as he ran. I pick it up on my way out. It's been some time since I've wielded a blade, and it feels good to balance it alongside the fire coursing through me—a physical counterweight to this magic with no definite shape. When I swing it to test its weight, flames trail after the steel like words scrawled across a page. Like I’m signing my name to the air, fully claiming this moment.
The remaining soldiers exchange nervous looks, each daring the others to step forward and try to stop me. None of them end up doing this—though one does go for the signal horn at his hip, grasping it with a shaking hand and raising it toward his mouth.
With a precision that surprises even me, I incinerate the horn before it reaches his lips.
He drops to his knees, hands swiping over the burnt remnants of it as they scatter over the limestone. I pause and stare down at him. He goes still, like a rabbit caught in a predator’s gaze, and it occurs to me that I could end him as easily as I ended the horn.
I could endallof them.
For now, I turn away and keep walking toward Sesca.
An out-of-body sensation threatens at first. But it lessens with every step I take, until I feel as if I am more me than I have ever been, unfolding with the rising dawn and no longer making myself small in hopes that all the kings and gods and divine fires of this world might overlook me.
Iamthe divine fire.
And I burn a path straight down the mountainside, parting soldiers as I go.
The few who try to intervene are met with magic that I don’t even think about summoning; it just rolls off me like a sentient accomplice that’s fully aware of my plan, determined for us to see it through together.
Sesca's eyes meet mine as I approach, their usual gold burning closer to the color of bluish-orange flames. The chains binding her begin to glow the way my own did, and she shakes them off with all the casualness of a dog shaking water from its coat. The sound and sight of the links snapping and flying, still glowing brightly as they soar through the air, is deeply satisfying.
A few of the camp's leaders are circling toward us now, trying to manage a more coordinated response to my fiery march toward freedom.
Even the bravest of them stumble back as Sesca lets out a thundering roar and rises to her full height, wings flaring wide. The sunrise catches in those wings and they seem toburn from the inside out, as if they were the source of all that light rather than merely receiving it.
Staring at her, I would swear she's grown several more feet since last night—or maybe just since the moment I finally stood up and fully embraced what we are together.
She lowers herself as I step forward, one shoulder dropping toward me. Strength courses through my arms, and I grab hold and swing up without any hesitation.
She launches into the air the moment I settle between her bony shoulders. I'm prepared for the suddenness of it, this time, so I've already got one hand woven into the feathery hair at the base of her neck while the other still holds my stolen sword.
Any trace of lingering fear is replaced by exhilarating clarity as we climb higher. I lean even more completely into our connection so I know what movements she’s going to make before they happen, allowing my body to automatically shift to stay in sync with her, maintaining perfect balance.
Faster, I urge, and she obliges, catching a current of wind and barreling upward and onward.
I grip her mane more tightly before peering down, watching the world race by below us: the camp shrinking at our backs; the mountain peaks sliding past, gradually becoming more like mere hills; the lines of soldiers weaving in and out of the rocks and through the increasingly thick clusters of trees. I focus the longest on those lines, knowing Malachi is somewhere among them.
It's been too long since he left the camp. I'm worried about how far ahead he already is, what he's already had time to put in motion.
Am I too late to stop this from turning into a deadly, devastating clash?
Faster,I desperately think again, and somehow Sesca manages it, leaving me breathless as she tears through the cold morning air and turns the world below into a blur of green and grey.
Within minutes, we crest the last of the mountain ridges. A valley opens up below us, and I see it immediately: the two armies converging toward one another. Dralsk's forces wind out of the mountain hills like a rising river, more and more dark water spilling over the banks until it eventually floods the entire area. Mouren soldiers await this rising flood in neat, orderly rows, their banners flashing bright and bold as the sunrise bleeds through them.
The front lines of both sides are already breaking against each other, while outer flanks wrap around to cut off any chance of retreat, the whole terrible machinery of it grinding together with an inevitable finality that makes my stomach drop.
And above it all, there are dragons.
