He sat on top of Cyrus, eyes closed. Focused.
Just then, a beam of black energy ripped through the sky.
Cyrus jerked sideways with a roar. The blast roared past by them, leaving a red trail of heat behind it.
He didn't flinch. He remained calm, focused.
In the distance, something massive tore through the clouds.
A dragon—black as pitch.
Its scales shimmered, catching the light like glass dipped in oil. Red eyes burned beneath the shadow of its brow. Smoke poured from its mouth, thick and curling, like steam from a broken world.
Its wings stretched wider than rooftops.
Each beat warped the air around it, rippling through the sky like thunder made flesh.
On its back stood the man in black armor.
The dragon opened its jaws. A red and black light swirled between its fangs. The energy pulsed once—then fired.
Cyrus spun midair again, the blast missing by a hair.
It tore through the clouds behind them, ripping them open like paper—this time, more powerful.
