Page 128 of Song of the Heart Scale
“I found it in your chambers,” he said. “You’ll want it with you.”
I tied it around my wrist.
Klaus cocked his head. “Getting sentimental, Your Highness?”
“No,” I said. “Getting ready.”
A blast of a war horn split the air. A moment later, a second echoed from the south. Then a third.
It was time.
I lifted my sword, the steel catching a flare of sunlight, and shouted, “Advance!”
From all sides of the valley, our forces moved. Shifters in their dragon forms flew ahead like a tidal wave of wings and fury. The fae, their eyes glowing with glamour and vengeance, loosed their arrows enchanted with blight and confusion. And from the eastern ridgeline, part of the Nightwing army swept down like a storm with Jacob at their head, his sword alight with runes.
The ground trembled beneath the weight of power and vengeance.
As I led the central charge, my body moved on instinct. I dodged a bolt of fire and rolled under the swing of a warhammer before burying my blade into the chest of a soldier clad in red. Blood sprayed across my face. I didn’t flinch.
To my left, Garrick was casting, sigils burning across the air with every flick of his hand. Lightning arced from his fingertips, blasting enemies off their feet. “Don’t slow down now, Prince!” he called over the chaos. “They’re expecting you to fall back.”
“Not today,” I growled, ducking a blast of dragon fire.
The sky darkened as Thorne's winged guards took flight, their armor glinting in the morning sun. But Klaus and his fae warriors rose to meet them, taking to the air with wings made of shimmering glamour, like living illusions.
I could barely see Cat’s cloth as it flapped around my wrist, stained now with blood and soot. My heart pulsed in my ears.
Every breath. Every strike. Every step.
All of it was for her.
Hold on, Cat.I'm coming.
The scent of ash filled my lungs.
Smoke curled through the air in serpentine tendrils, clinging to my skin, my cloak, my hair. All around me, the Southern Gate of Dragon Valley burned. Screams and steel rang out in a chaotic symphony. The battle was a storm, and I was at its eye.
My blade cut down a soldier in imperial crimson—Thorne’s colors—just as a gust of flame soared overhead. One of ours. A dragon.
“Damien!” Uncle Bai’s voice snapped me out of my trance. He charged toward me through the smoke now in his human form, his curved blade bloodied and his eyes keen.
“The eastern wall has been breached!” he shouted. “Lord Mercer’s men made it inside. But we’re taking heavy casualties!”
I nodded. “We press forward. Thorne will be in the palace. That’s where we end this.”
Another explosion rocked the cobbled streets. I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t afford to.
Klaus emerged beside me in a flicker of glamour, looking far too composed for someone in the middle of a war. His lavender eyes sparkled with mischief and bloodlust. “You humans and dragonsdohave a flair for drama,” he drawled.
I momentarily sheathed my blade and glanced at him. “Just keep your word, Fae. We bleed together tonight.”
He offered a half-bow. “Of course, Your Shadowiness.” Then he vanished again, nothing more than a shimmer of light in the smoky chaos.
Behind me, the Nightwing army advanced like a tide of obsidian armor. Lord Mercer led them—tall and broad, with his signature black-plumed helmet gleaming in the firelight.
He caught my stare and nodded curtly. This was just the beginning.
We reachedthe palace gates just after moonrise.
