Page 60 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

Kai was falling.

Then, as if summoned from the depths of the abyss, smoke erupted beneath him, twisting, expanding, until it coalesced into something solid.

A horse.

But not a creature of flesh and bone.

It was a thing of darkness and nightmares, its form shifting with each heartbeat, its body forged from shadows and swirling smoke.

Alina’s eyes widened.

Kai landed effortlessly upon its back, his grip light, his body moving as if he had been born in the saddle of this ghostly beast. He cast a glance back at her, winking before galloping towards the valkyrians, weaving through those on the ground.

‘Show-off,’ Haven muttered, crossing her arms.

Alina barely heard her.

‘What is that?’ she asked, voice hushed.

Haven arched a brow, then softened as realisation dawned upon her.

‘You truly do not know,’ she said. Then, with a small sigh, she explained, ‘It’s called a shadow. All wyverian royals have them. They are creatures that have passed on, yet choose to linger, forging a bond with us until we, too, must leave this realm. When we die, they guide our way into the underworld.’

A shiver danced down Alina’s spine the moment Haven raised her hand, and the bracelet coiled about her arm stirred with eerie life. What had seemed mere adornment began to slither, revealing itself as a serpent unlikeany Alina had ever encountered—its body wrought not of flesh, but of shifting shadows and, in her mind, the very essence of nightmares. It regarded her with an unsettling curiosity, its gaze as weightless as mist and yet as piercing as a blade.

‘So… they’re dead?’

‘Yes and no,’ Haven spoke with quiet simplicity, her gaze lingering upon the shadow-serpent with a kind of tender reverence—an adoration reserved not for a creature, but for an extension of her very soul. ‘Their natural bodies have long since faded, but they continue to exist in shadow-form.’

A chill crawled down Alina’s spine.

‘Can wyverians do that?’

Haven’s lips curled into something that was not quite a smile. ‘No. No one has been able to shadow-walk. Only one wyverian ever did, centuries ago. They say he had a wyvern as a shadow—something that has never happened since.’ She shrugged. ‘They are only stories. Who knows if they are real or not?’

‘But you are hopeful,’ Alina mused, watching her carefully. ‘That someday wyverians could shadow-walk?’

Haven did not answer. Instead, she turned her gaze towards her brother, watching as he galloped across the arena, riding atop his living darkness. Alina followed her gaze. It looked like a painted scene—like the heavens had opened, allowing the angels to descend, only for a demon to lurk in the mist below.

And yet—

Despite the sharpness of his fangs, the twisted, rotting horns, the body built for destruction—

She was not afraid of him.

Drakonians and wyverians have always had some rivalry between each other. No one truly knows why and probably they themselves do not know either. Perhaps it is because they share beasts that are so similar—dragons and wyverns are basically the same thing in my opinion except one is scarier, larger and completely black with only two hind legs, and the others are smaller with four legs that come in all kinds of shiny colours. They both spit fire, but that just seems to make everyone want to see which beast can spitmore.I tried telling Hadrian once and he got up and walked away huffing as if I had greatly offended him.

Tabitha Wysteria

It was time.

The war drums struck the air like hammer blows, deep and reverberating, pounding against Ash Acheron’s ribs as though they sought to forge him into something new, something unbreakable.

A corridor of fire stretched before him, flames licking the path from where he stood to the very heart of the arena. Each flickering ember cast long, writhing shadows against the reddened stone, illuminating the trail meant only for him. He walked forward, each step measured, his golden firesteel armour gleaming like molten sunlight, tempered in the volcanic forges of his homeland and sanctified in the Temple of Fire. It was hisfinest set, blessed by the Sun God himself—a symbol of the kingdom’s strength and his own sacrifice.

At his hip, his sword rested, its familiar weight an anchor against the anticipation tightening in his chest. He felt its presence, the edge pressing against him as if whispering a silent promise of battle.

The arena erupted into deafening applause, the roars of the crowd rolling over him like a tidal wave. They did not cheer for Ash, the man. They cheered for Ash, the prince who would end decades of hatred. The one who would bind fire to darkness, who would lay himself upon the altar of duty and sacrifice his own desires for the good of the realm.

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