Page 89 of Realms of Shadow and Sun

With that final wish, Sion succumbed to the healing sleep his body so desperately needed, unaware of the momentous events unfolding in the tower above.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The air crackled with magic and the clash of steel as Grayden soared above the chaos on Beauty's back. The smell of smoke mingled with the metallic tang of blood, creating a nauseating cloud that hung over the battlefield. Suddenly, Phillippe's voice cut through the chaos, urgent and sharp.

“Grayden, behind you!”

Instinct took over. Grayden yanked on Beauty's harness, the dragon responding instantly to his touch. They swerved in a tight arc, the scorching heat of a flaming arrow singeing Grayden's ear as it whooshed past. The projectile exploded against a nearby building, showering debris onto the combatants below.

Before Grayden could even catch his breath to thank his brother, his eyes locked onto Triston. The Tidal King was surrounded, fighting hand-to-hand against five Shadow Realm soldiers. Their dark armor seemed to absorb the sunlight, making them look like living shadows as they pressed their advantage.

“Beauty, to Triston!” Grayden commanded, leaning low over the dragon's neck as they dove.

The moment Beauty's claws touched the golden cobblestones, Grayden leapt from her back. He hit the ground rolling, unsheathing his sword in one fluid motion. Beauty took off again with a thunderous beat of her wings, charging towards another group of fighters who scattered in terror at her approach.

Grayden's blade sounded loudly as he engaged the three soldiers on Triston's right. The clash of metal on metal rang out as he dodged a blow, ducked under another, and thrust his sword through a gap in his opponent's armor. The man fell with a gurgled cry, and Grayden spun to face the next threat.

Beside him, Triston dispatched his remaining two attackers with a series of quick, brutal strikes. As the last body hit the ground, Grayden turned to his ally, noting the sweat and grime that streaked Triston's face.

“What happened to your trident?” Grayden asked, his eyes darting around for new threats as he spoke.

Triston rubbed his shoulder, wincing. “I made the mistake of trying to take on the smaller dragon,” he admitted, gesturing beyond the city gates. “It's lodged in the beast, and I had to retreat.”

Following Triston's gesture, Grayden saw the dragon in question. It snarled and clawed at the wall surrounding the city, its scales gleaming with an unnatural, oily sheen. The beast's eyes glowed with malevolent intelligence as it sought a way past the defenses.

Grayden raised his fingers to his lips, ready to whistle for Beauty, but stopped short as he saw Agatha approach the rampaging dragon. The air around her crackled with power, her magic manifesting as arcs of energy that danced across her skin.

In an instant, a shadow darker than the blackest night enveloped both Agatha and the dragon. The darkness was absolute, hiding whatever confrontation was taking place within its depths. A chill ran down Grayden's spine, and he turned away, his thoughts immediately going to Renya.

“Grayden!”

The desperate cry cut through his worry. Grayden whirled around, searching for the source. His heart dropped as he spotted Sion sprawled in the middle of the street, a deep gouge in his side staining the golden tiles crimson.

Without hesitation, Grayden sprinted to his friend's side. He hoisted Sion up, grunting with the effort, and whistled sharply for Beauty. The dragon landed beside them with a ground-shaking thud, her eyes wide with concern.

Grayden knew Beauty couldn't carry them both, and he had promised Renya he'd stay with the dragon for protection. But seeing Sion's ashen face and the blood soaking through his tunic, Grayden knew he had no choice.

“Beauty, quickly!” he commanded, carefully draping Sion over the dragon's back. “Take him to the palace, to Dimitri!”

He gave Beauty an encouraging pat, watching as she took to the sky with his wounded friend. Guilt and worry warred in his chest—guilt over how he had treated Sion when he learned of his relationship with Selenia, and worry for his sister should Sion not survive.

Pushing aside his tumultuous thoughts, Grayden turned back to the battle. He sprinted towards the castle, his eyes constantly scanning for civilians who might have been caught in the crossfire. The streets were a maze of destruction—buildings scorched and crumbling, golden tiles cracked and stained with blood.

As he ran, Grayden couldn't avoid seeing the fallen soldiers that littered the ground. Each face, friend or foe, was a stark reminder of the cost of this conflict. He took a deep, pained breath but forced himself to keep moving. War always brought casualties, but the weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders. These men had joined this fight under his command, and their lives were the price of his decisions.

Reaching the courtyard, Grayden's eyes immediately darted to the tower. Golden light radiated from the room where he knew Renya faced her greatest challenge. The absence of black mist loosened the knot in his stomach slightly, but the battle was far from over.

A wet nudge against his hand startled him. Beauty stood beside him, seeking comfort or reassurance. In any other situation, Grayden might have chuckled at the dragon's behavior—so fierce in battle, yet so gentle now. It was clear that Renya had worked her magic on Beauty, just as she had on him. He gave the dragon a distracted pat, but his breath caught in his throat when he saw the amount of Sion’s blood staining her scales.

Every instinct screamed at him to run to Renya, to ensure her safety. But he knew her father would protect her, and right now, he had another duty to fulfill. He needed to look after Selenia, which meant ensuring Sion's safety.

With a heavy heart but resolute determination, Grayden strode towards the main hall, now converted into a makeshift infirmary. The scene that greeted him was one of organized chaos—healers rushing between patients, the air thick with the scent of medicinal herbs and the sounds of pain and comfort intermingling.

His eyes widened as he spotted Selenia, her hair pulled back and an apron over her dress, assisting a man with a broken leg. Julietta worked beside her, wrapping the injury as Selenia held the man still, whispering words of comfort. Pride swelled in Grayden's chest.

Part of him wanted to scold her for disobeying his orders to stay safe, but he held his tongue. Selenia's heart was pure, her desire to help others a fundamental part of who she was. If nursing the injured brought her purpose in this dark time, he wouldn't stand in her way.

From Selenia's calm demeanor, Grayden surmised that she was unaware of Sion's condition. The thought of the agony she would feel upon learning of his injury made Grayden's heart ache. He knew all too well the pain of seeing a loved one hurt.

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