18th day of the season of the sun 2448

The whistling of the arrows resonated in Azena's head far too frequently. For a moment she took time to relax and study her surroundings. The cries of the dying soldiers turned her stomach. A migraine took hold of her. She couldn't afford to be caught off guard. She tried to keep her concentration, but her head felt like it was twice its normal size. There was too much noise, too many things happening at the same time.

- Are you okay? Tyrath asked worriedly.

Azena could barely hear the drake. She only had eyes for what was happening in front of her. Two soldiers were fighting, fighting for their lives. The first wore Daigorn's emblem on his purple tabard and was about to drive a gigantic morning star into the skull of his enemy, a small man dressed for a dance, but hiding a chain armor under his fancy outfit.

- Dirty traitor wolf! shouted Daigorn's soldier. You deserve to be ass-fucked until you cry for your mother.

With a crack of pulverized bones and an explosion of red, the weapon hit its target. A drop of blood stained Azena's arm. The dragon rider looked down at the red liquid and was surprised by her calm, a frightening calm.

- My apologies, my Lady, said the soldier who had approached.

He took a cloth out of his pocket and wiped the blood off.

- I hope you're not hurt. I saw what you did for Lady Rivatha. It was very brave. That damn sack of bones kept me busy and I couldn't come to your aid in time.

Azena smiles in spite of the situation. The soldier was a big, strong man with hard features, but he had a soft heart and tender eyes.

- Thank you, said Azena.

She noticed that he wasn't wearing any armor. In fact, he reminded her of a happy man on vacation. The only thing that betrayed him was his morning star hanging on his back.

- Are you one of my father's soldiers?

The man nodded.

- Of the lowest rank, but a soldier. I was at the festivities. But, um...

He paused for a moment.

- Not directly into the castle, but I was nearby. I never trusted those wolves, but I never expected them to attack. Still, I took my trusty Ellia with me.

He pointed to his morning star. The handle was in the shape of an exquisite woman wearing a simple peasant dress.

- It's a tribute to my bride who died protecting me from a Detmorian a few years ago.

- What's your name? Azena asked. Your eyes look familiar.

- Well seen, my Lady. Duranh of the Litfow family is my name. I'm Fayne's cousin.

He raised his eyes. They we're the same warm brown as Fayne's.

Azena smiled as all the happy faces of every Litfow family member appeared in her thoughts. She adored them. She had to visit them before she went back to the academy.

- I'll make sure you're rewarded for your dedication.

- Azena, we must go, Tyrath urged. Soldiers are approaching and we must find Turion.

Duranh finally noticed the dragon and at the hoarse sound of his voice, he stepped back and grabbed Ellia's grip. His eyes widened and his breathing quickened.

- Don't worry, Azena said, crossing her arms with pride. He's my companion. He's not going to-

"Azena," called out a voice.

The dragon rider fell silent and let herself be carried away by the urgent tone of voice. Tyrath sensed her sudden change of mood and growled.

- What's going on?

He waited a moment.

- Azena! Answer me!

But the girl did not react.

"Go to the main entrance at once, said Turion. A black dragon rider is holding me. "

"Turion, what happened?"

Turion answered her, but his voice was so weak that his words were lost in the silence.

"I don't understand what you're saying to me. Turion! »

She stared westward towards the main entrance, where the battle raged. Detmor's troops were losing ground and being slowly pushed back towards the walls. There was no sign of Fayne and Buhrik. Argent, a soldier whom Azena did not recognize from so far away, Serus and Bayrne stayed together and we're making their way through the enemies.

- For the last time, what's going on? Tyrath roared.

- I'm sorry to leave you so suddenly, Duranh, said Azena, but duty calls.

She mounted Tyrath and the dragon spread his wings without a moment's delay. She turned back to him.

- I have located Turion.

- But, my Lady, I can help protect you, Duranh said.

- Not this time, Azena replied. Go and help Lord Bayrne.

She pointed the way, then changed her dialect to speak to Tyrath.

- Fly, go.

Tyrath obeyed. He let himself be carried away by the wind. Several soldiers protected them from the voracious wolves who were trying to satisfy their thirst for blood. Everyone wore casual clothes and carried an improvised weapon except the wolves, who were obviously prepared for this planned treachery. One soldier, atop the remparts, made a vertical thrust with his sword that only tore the tunic of his target. The wolf only smiled. A coat of mail had protected him. He imitated his opponent and, taking advantage of the distraction, kicked him overboard.

Azena became enraged at the sight of such mutiny. She pulled Tyrath's horn towards them, but the dragon stubbornly held his course.

- No! He roared. Detmor is losing despite their advantage. You need to focus on Turion. We will tear his captor to shreds.

- It's the black dragon rider, says Azena. It's him.

A winged shadow was partially blocking the moonlight. Tyrath's eyes filled with hatred.

- Him. That's the same scum that followed us last year.

He flapped his wings furiously. The black dragon rider and his dragon stood motionless with their backs to Azena and Tyrath. They hadn't noticed them.

" Bah ! said Turion. They are arguing like newborn babies. It's a good time to surprise them. »

This time, Turion's voice was clear and vibrated with power, which made sense since they were close to the dark dragon rider. Azena clung to Tyrath as the young gray male reached a speed so intense that a whistle ringed in her ears. Below them, Detmorr's soldiers bent their bows and aimed. A volley of arrows pierced the sky and some of them hit their target: the black dragon.

- They are attacking their own ally? asked Azena, confused.

The black dragon wiggled in pain and gained altitude. It turned around and only had time to take a breath before Tyrath hit it with all his might. The two dragons roared, scratched and bit in blind fury.

Azena slipped but managed to hold on to Tyrath's spike before falling. As she struggled to climb onto her companion's back, she glanced at the dragon rider. He wore ebony plate armor and his helmet covered most of her face. It was too dark to discern the details of the face, but a sense of familiarity struck her anyway.

- Give me the quill. We don't need to fight and risk our lives.

The stranger hesitated. Azena waited, but she didn't have the luxury of time. Tyrath was entangled in a fierce battle with the black dragon and risked his life with every passing moment.

- Slay him! Thundered Tyrath between bites. Don't hesitate!

Azena laid her hand on the handle of the dagger. It was either Tyrath or the chance that he would accept her proposal. Without much thought, she chose the second option. She drew the dagger, stood up, and as she found her balance, she was struck in the back of the legs. The blow was so powerful that she lost control and fell.

Tyrath screamed in a mixture of terror and rage. On impulse, he let go of the black dragon and dove to the ground, but his opponent held him in place and drove his claws into his hips and back.

- No!

He shouted so loudly that the soldiers looked up and many lost their lives because of this mistake.

Azena fell from such a height that for once in her life she felt dizzy. Her heart was pounding, but not with excitement but with fear, fear of dying broken by the weight of the world. She closed her eyes and tried to manipulate the wind upwards in a desperate attempt to soften her fall, but nothing worked, she was too nervous to concentrate. Moreover, she didn't have enough power to perform such a maneuver. She looked up and saw Tyrath struggling, but the black one was like a snake wrapped around a mouse. She was sure she was going to die this time. She closed her eyes, unable to face reality.

She crashed gently to the ground, too gently for it to be real.

- What have you gotten yourself into again? a female voice said.

- Eh?

Azena opened her eyes and over her, she saw the magnificent river of cerulean blue scales that was Buhrik's head and the warm but critical look on Fayne's face. Realizing that they had saved her, she squeezed Buhrik's paw.

- You caught me.

- It's okay, Buhrik replied. No need to get emotional. Climb up before you break both my arms. I'm not the strongest.

He slowed down and let Azena sit behind Fayne on the saddle.

- Are you ready?

- Yes, said Fayne with a trembling voice. Let's get it over with as soon as possible.

Azena realized that Fayne had braved her fear of heights to come and save her. A wave of gratitude warmed her heart, but it would not last.

- Hang on, Buhrik ordered.

He spread his broad wings and flew towards the black dragon, who roared at the new threat and relaxed his grip.

Tyrath took the opportunity to hit the black dragon with his tail. The spikes dug into the victim's leg and he twisted like a madman in the air, allowing Tyrath to escape.

Buhrik crushed the black dragon's underbelly with a headbutt. The impact caused some damage, but far from what the blue dragon had expected.

- Damn my deer-like physical strength.

Two clawed hands grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away violently. He swirled in his fall and finally stabilized. He and the black dragon breathed, water met shadow. Buhrik focused and the water stream devoured the shadow cloud and threw the black dragon backwards.

- Tyrath, your turn!

- With pleasure, the gray replied.

With the grace and speed of a thief, he moved behind the black dragon, held it in place with the help of his legs and, with the delicacy of a mother, pulled the purple feather from the bag hanging from the rider's belt. He growled and his tail stiffened in anticipation of striking.

- No, said Azena. There's no need to pulverize his back. Just let him go. We have what we want.

Tyrath was surprised.

- He's stunned. It's time to get rid of him. This sympathy will cost us dear. One strike and it's over. He won't suffer, I promise you.

Azena shook her head.

- I can't do that, not like that. Please, let them go. If they harm us again, we'll deal with them.

The black dragon rider nodded to Azena, a thank you she gladly accepted. The black dragon uttered a faint growl and then became agitated. He hissed and snapped his jaws, desperate to reach Tyrath.

- Calm yourself, Tyrath said.

He waited for obedience and pushed him fiercely. He spoke to the rider.

- Go back to your lair, wolf. You're lucky my dragon rider grants you your life. I don't think you deserve it.

The black dragon rider pulled on the reins of his dragon to encourage him to calm down. He shook his head in displeasure and headed east.

- Detmor is further south, Buhrik said. Strange.

Tyrath sniffed with rage.

- He's probably just looking for a hiding place while he rests.

He held out Turion's quill in his claws.

- Safe and sound.

- Thank you, said Azena.

She put the quill in a bag and jumped from Buhrik's back to Tyrath's. She clung to her usual spike when Tyrath was without his bridle.

- The fight is coming to an end. Detmor should surrender soon. I don't know what they're waiting for.

- Stubborn humans.

- Patience, said Buhrik. The important thing is that Nothar will not be captured. Which is strange, because, no offence meant, but Detmor had more military and was more organised.

- We are dragons, said Tyrath. We could have fought them all off.

- True, but we're still young and far from our full potential. The army would have gotten the better of us. Don't let your pride blind you. Now we must focus on our duty. Our duty is to save lives.

He took the time to stare Tyrath in the eye, a message that Azena understood: he was too impulsive and violent.

- Let's take the time to look at the situation below before deciding what action to take.

Something drew Tyrath's attention to the main gates of the city.

- We don't need to worry about it, he chuckled mockingly. The scum are defeated. By defeated, I mean the High King will take care of them.