Page 269 of Scorching the Alien Empire
For a heartbeat, I see his shadow falling over her again. That moment—sharp and brutal—stabs through me like a thousand obsidian needles. Princesa’s limp, broken body choking for breath, crushed in his grasp.
My chest heaves. Fury coils through me, tight and lethal. Every muscle begs to shatter his spine into shards.
The horn sounds again. Lower this time. Almost mournful, as if even the world grieves for what’s to come.
Then...
“HIGH CHIEFTAIN!”
“KROGOTH STAR-EYES!”
The cry rises like thunder, drowning out the drums, the horns, the wind. Stomping boots. Fists beating against armor. A war tide of sound.
“Oh look, Todd,” Princesa coos, jostling her pet creature. “Naughty Cringe-Eyes is coming for his spanking.”
The sea of warriors parts. Krogoth strides forward, black cloak and hair whipping in the gusting ash. His light-gray armor gleams like bone beneath the soot. Purple eyes misting with Rush find mine—neither hateful nor afraid. There’s something else. Resolve. Respect. Like a mountain to climb. A universe to claim.
Can he feel my rage, my fury? I will strip the flesh from his bones for what he did to my Princesa.
Rocks strides beside him. Sandra too. And the broad warrior with the smashed-in face.
“Are. You. Fucking kidding me right now?” Princesa snaps, stabbing a finger toward Sandra. “That little ginger snake.After everything? She’s gonna standwith them?” Her voice cracks with disbelief. “We’ve seen each other poop, for Gods’ sake.”
I barely hear her. My gaze is locked on Krogoth. The Rush roars in my ears.Stormcleaver’sgrip groaning beneath my crushing fingers.
He speaks to Smashed Face, both of them glancing toward me. Their eyes flick toStormcleaver. Calculating. Strategizing.
Then Krogoth turns to hisMortakin-Kis. He lifts her into a fierce embrace, their foreheads pressed close, noses brushing, sharing an intimate moment together, whispering words stolen by the howling wind. When they part, he squeezes her shoulder. She wipes away tears.
Touching.
“Look how scared she is,” Princesa sneers, delight curling her lips. “Serves her right. Friend-stealing, cheater-bitch.”
Krogoth vaults effortlessly across the lava chasm with unnatural grace, his silhouette framed against a low-hanging crimson sun—a dying ember smothered by swirling obsidian clouds. Red lightning strobes beneath them, each bolt a whip-crack from Arawnoth’s hand.
His armored boots slam into the far side, a mosaic of blackened slag and glowing fissures cracking beneath the impact. Lava belches into the scalding air.
“I will take the War Chieftainess,” Vorthax offers, arms outstretched, eyes fixated on Krogoth.
“What am I, a football to be hoop-ringed or something?” she snaps.
“Keep her safe,” I order, lowering her gently into his arms.
“Hey!—”
“On my honor,” Vorthax replies, wrapping his feathered cloak around her.
“Remember, babes,” Princesa calls, her silver eyes narrowing. “You’vesogot this. Scourge the weak. Embrace strength.”
Hard. Sharp. Utterly confident.
I nod solemnly toward her as Vorthax carries her away.
“Farewell, Alexandra.”
“Wait! What the hell is that supposed to—” Her voice cuts off as Vorthax leaps the gap, vanishing into the crowd beyond.
Chieftain Borrthak beckons, his rotund face a grim mask. Krogoth stands nearby, murmuring with Chieftain Aelioth, face shrouded in shawls, piercing blue eyes locked on me like an arrohawk sizing up prey. New Chieftain Voryx lingers awkwardly—like a lost borack before the butcher.
