Page 58 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons
The mountain's heartbeat was slow and deep, a rhythm that had persisted for eons before the Empire's birth and would continue long after its fall. I let that steadiness flow into me, using it to anchor the parts of my mind that threatened to drift into the grey spaces where the whispers lived.
Below, the Imperial forces were moving with urgency, their commanders were driving them hard toward what they believed was the safety of the mountain pass. Clearly the strategy of attacking their supply lines from the rear had fooled them into thinking we had planned to attack on open ground in the dark. Determined to reach a better vantage point and defensibleposition, thousands of soldiers and their enslaved dragons flowed like a dark river between the towering peaks. Some dragons flew above, keeping watch on their route through the mountains, but most were forced to stumble along rocky paths like mere beasts of burden rather than the magnificent creatures they had once been. The sight filled me with a cold rage that I carefully banked and stored for the coming battle.
Soon, I promised the enslaved dragons silently. Soon you will be free, one way or another.
The sun sank lower, painting the sky in shades of blood and gold as the Imperial army pressed deeper into the basin. Horns called urgently, officers shouted orders with increasing desperation, the great machines of Imperial conquest lurched forward in their haste to reach what they thought was defensible ground. They moved with the confidence of a force that had never known defeat, never faced an enemy that could strike from darkness itself—but beneath that confidence, I could sense the first stirrings of unease.
That unease would soon become terror.
The basin filled with Imperial soldiers like water pouring into a bowl, exactly as we had planned. They spread out in the wider space, their formations relaxing slightly as they gained what felt like breathing room. Behind them, the narrow mountain passes stretched empty and inviting—the route they believed would remain open for retreat if needed.
They had no idea that Talfen warriors were already moving to seal those passes behind them.
The first Talfen war cry echoed across the valley like the scream of a hunting hawk, and I looked down to see our forces emerging from concealment among the rocks and trees behind the Imperial army. They moved with the fluid grace of people who belonged to this land, who had learned to fight in harmony with stone and shadow rather than trying to dominate them.
At the same moment, dragons appeared along the rim of the basin—not the enslaved creatures of the Empire, but free Talfen dragons whose eyes burned with intelligence and fury. They dove toward the trapped army like falling stars, their roars shaking the very mountains.
The Imperial response was immediate and predictable—formations wheeling to face the new threat, dragons taking to the air despite their chains, a wall of steel and flame rising to meet the attack. But I could hear the panic in their officers' voices as they realized the trap they had walked into. They outnumbered our forces, perhaps, but they were caught between hammer and anvil with nowhere to run.
This would not be a conventional battle.
I rose to my feet and extended my awareness downward, feeling for the spaces between light and substance where my power lived. The approaching darkness fed my strength, shadows pooling around my feet like spilled ink. Already I could feel the cost beginning—a hollowness in my chest where something warm and vital had been only moments before.
But tonight, that cost would be worth paying.
The Imperial forces were trying to organize themselves into their regular fighting patterns, their commanders desperately attempting to maintain order as Talfen warriors struck from all sides.
I inhaled and exhaled slowly, grounding myself. The air smelled of dust and dragon fire. Sweat and steel. The pulse of battle throbbed beneath my boots, a rhythm as old as war itself. I closed my eyes and listened—not to the screaming, or the clang of swords, but to the shadows.
They whispered to me.
I stepped forward to the edge of the outcrop, raising one hand. The light had fallen just enough. Long shadows stretchedacross the valley floor, fractured and flickering in the smoke—but enough. More than enough.
“Come,” I said.
And they did.
Tendrils of darkness slithered out across the battlefield, thin as wire and twice as cruel. I didn’t need to see them—only to feel the shift in air, the sudden slackening of tension, the moment when stillness became death.
The first soldier vanished upward, lifted into the air with a snap of bone. Another was dragged backward across the dirt, shrieking until the shadows choked the sound from his throat. All down the line, Imperials stumbled, turning in confusion—before the ground beneath them came alive.
I felt nothing. Not joy. Not triumph. Just cold clarity.
Another gesture, and the darkness pulsed.
It wasn’t a flash. It didn’t explode. It bled. Like ink into water, shadow spilled across the field, eating light as it spread. Torches guttered. Dragon flame dimmed. The sun, already dying, was smothered entirely.
Cries rose up from the dark. Confused. Panicked.
I could have smiled, if I were a different man.
The first Imperial soldiers reached the narrow pass they had entered through, only to find it blocked by Talfen warriors who had sealed it behind them like a cork in a bottle. The realization rippled through their ranks like wildfire—they were trapped, caught in a killing ground with no way out except through the enemy that surrounded them.
I lowered my hand. Let the dark settle. Let it breathe.
Then I drove it deeper.
The ground shuddered as I called the spires.
