Page 133 of Ashen Wings

I want her to feel hunted, cornered.

I want her to feel even a sliver of the carnage stained across the hatching grounds.

“I don’t give a fuck about your debt, Saphine.” I kick out my boot. Leather meets bone and she flinches away from the blow. I don’t hesitate, jabbing my sword toward her. The tip plunges into her shoulder and she staggers backward, falling to the barren earth.

“Please, Nova…”

“Begging is futile. You’ve sealed your fate.” I roll my neck and stalk toward her, fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of my sword. The glints of light in her eyes are unspoken pleas, but I refuse to see them.

She slides away from me, her boots stirring up ash and dust. Moonlit panic washes over her face, but I keep coming. She will die by my hand, regardless if we’re the last two Sovereign survivors on this godsdamned earth.

“You slaughtered hatchlings,” I spit.

She recoils like I’ve struck her with my fist. Her face contorts, shame and horror warring with the instinct to survive. “I had no choice…”

“You always have a choice!” The roar tears from my throat, rubbing me raw. I lunge again, faster than she expects.

Saphine twists, trying to hook my arm, but I wrench free and slam my hilt into her ribs.

A sharp, guttural gasp spills from her lips.

The soldiers form a loose perimeter around us, unsure whether to intervene or not, and Samkiel appears in my periphery, a smug smile curling on his lips. He still clutches the egg under his arm as he leans casually against his longsword.

That fucking smirk sends me into near-cosmic oblivion. He’s making a show of our battle, but I don’t care.

I’m coming for him next.

Saphine swings in a desperate arc at my head. The move is sloppy and nowhere near what I expected from a fellow mercenary and I dodge easily, snaring her braid. With a hard yank I tilt her forward and slam my knee into her stomach. She folds on impact and retches up air.

“Was the payout worth this?” Her silver strands slip through my fingers as I gesture to the burning world around us, the scent of incinerated scales and scorched, brittle leaves heavy in the air.

Her eyes flick to Samkiel. It’s a brief, subtle glance, but I see it. I see everything.

Fear, desperation, a lifetime of choices that feasted on her insides until only a hollow shell remained. My chest aches. I see myself, lying there sobbing.

“He promised me safety…freedom. I thought if I cooperated I could survive this.”

Something in me fractures. Mercilessly, I swing.

She blocks, but too slowly. My steel slices a precise, vicious line down her forearm and blood beads instantly, dark and hot. A cry of anguish pours from her bruised lips.

“You won’t survive this, Saphine,” I whisper. Then I throw myself at her, blade sharp and ready.

For a fleeting moment—half a second—her features soften.

She doesn’t dodge or block my attack, Nor does she sidestep or duck. Metal squelches into flesh and my sword lodges in her abdomen right up to the hilt.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes.

“I will never forgive you,” I growl, twisting the weapon. Her body goes rigid for a breath, then wholly limp.

The mercenary’s chest heaves around the blade like she’s collapsing into an embrace she’s waited her entire godsdamned life for. Her breath leaves her in a stuttering gasp—pain and relief intertwined—as her knees buckle and hit the ground. I follow her down, my hand still clenched around the hilt with the warmth of her blood seeping between my fingers.

The world sobs around us with ashen tears. A distant roar, hoarse and dying, echoes from the hatching grounds. But here in this moment, all I can hear is the sound of my fellow Sovereign survivor failing to breathe.

“Nova…” Her voice is a thread, frayed and unraveling. I clench my jaw tight as her fingers brush my wrist and slide off, slick with her own blood.

A faint, broken smile ghosts over her lips. It’s not peace or regret, but a sigh of relief. Her body convulses once. Twice. Then her muscles exhale in one long, shuddering release and her violet eyes fade to a muted periwinkle.