Arc 2, Chapter 29.1: Mother's Light

  Boudica stood at the plateau’s edge with her arms locked tight. Night wind tugged at her hair and whipped the heavy fabric of her coat. Though the air had turned cold, the stone beneath her boots still held warmth where the dragons had been resting, their body heat soaked into the granite

  The mouth of Graycrest lay at her back, a jagged hollow in the cliffside. Deep chisel marks scarred the dark rock where the fortress had been cut into the peak a millennium ago. Torches sputtered inside the tunnel. Their orange glow died before it could touch the dark of the plateau.

  Three dragons occupied the expanse.

  Sanguir claimed the space nearest the drop-off. In the flickering torchlight, his scales shone like clotted blood.

  He kept his wings pinned tight to his ribs. Eyes shut. Every heavy drag of his breath kicked up grit from the granite.

  The other pair sprawled further back. One was the color of soot, the other a deep, mossy green. Neither matched Sanguir’s bulk, yet they still loomed over the armor-clad men tending to them.

  Near the fortress mouth, a young sentry in Mercer colors shifted his weight.

  He leaned his spear against his shoulder and tracked the horizon with a slow, bored blink.

  A low vibration hummed through the mountain. Thunder, but the sound felt closer to the bone than the ear.

  Boudica turned toward the noise.

  Ahead, the mountains were jagged silhouettes cut out of the night.

  A heavy bank of clouds churned in the gap between two distant ridges.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Lightning spasmed inside the vapor, frantic pulses of white that flickered and died before they could touch the peaks.

  When the sound returned, it wasn't a sharp crack. It was a low, constant grinding, like stone dragging over stone, that refused to let the silence return.

  The guard stepped toward her, squinting at the horizon.

  "What is that?" his voice went thin.

  Boudica watched the flashes. "Not a natural one."

  "That’s not weather at all, Commander."

  *He's right* Boudica recognized the heavy, calculated rhythm of siege magic.

  *Natural storms drifted with the wind, but this stayed anchored to the ridge, hammering the same patch of earth with relentless, rhythmic strikes. Someone was trying to break the world over there.*

  "Valendris lands," the guard whispered. "The eastern border, near Willowden."

  Boudica didn't answer.

  The vibration in the air shifted from a sound to a physical weight, pressing against her lungs until every breath felt labored. Then the horizon split open.

  A shaft of emerald light punched through the clouds.

  The pillar remained fixed, a solid beam of radiance anchored to the distant valley. It expanded as it climbed, its edges smoothing into the silhouette of a woman.

  The figure was colossal, her head rising high enough to challenge the peaks. Standing with arms cast wide and palms open to the ground, she became a beacon of ghost-green light in the center of the dark ridges.

  Boudica turned from the edge before the guard could finish his question.

  She ran toward Sanguir, her boots hammering the rock.

  Reaching the dragon’s flank, she grabbed the worn leather of the climbing harness and hauled herself up the beast's side.

  "Commander?" the guard’s voice trailed after her, confused and distant.

  She ignored him and slid into the saddle. The familiar scent of hot musk and old leather filled her nose as she yanked the safety straps tight. Her fingers worked the buckles with practiced speed, cinching herself into the seat.

  Sanguir’s head swung around. A low growl vibrated through his chest, a sound she felt in her own marrow. He opened a single eye, revealing a slit of molten red. He waited.

  "Up," she commanded.

  Sanguir’s wings snapped wide with a sound like a cracking sail.

  One massive downstroke shoved the air away and bucked the dragon’s body upward, throwing the plateau into a sudden drop.

  A second strike followed, then a third, until the fortress was only a dark smear below.

  Ahead, the emerald woman remained anchored to the horizon.

  The figure loomed over the world, a ghost of light that made the surrounding peaks look like pebbles.

  Boudica pressed her chest against the saddle and urged the beast forward.

  Sanguir angled his wings to catch the wind and surged toward the glow.