I had seen wings just moments ago. Vast and pale, cutting through the mist with effortless grace. The ground shook as something massive dropped from the sky, the rush of wind nearly knocking me flat. I didn't even get the chance to process it before the shape began to shift. Shrinking. Wings pulled in, limbs twisting, the monster folding itself down into something that looked almost human.
And now she stood in front of me.
The battlefield had gone quiet.
Frozen.
Just minutes ago, there had been fire, screams, steel clashing all around us. Now the whole damn world was locked under ice. It stretched out across the field like a sheet of glass, glinting in the broken moonlight.
I could barely breathe. The cold was in my lungs and under my skin. My sword was half-buried in frost and refused to budge the first time I pulled. I grit my teeth and yanked again. Ice cracked as I tore it free, the pain in my fingers sharp and immediate.
She was watching me.
Standing in the center of the frozen wreckage like she didn't even feel the cold. Her snow-white hair fell in neat waves down her back, untouched by the mist curling around her. Golden eyes locked onto me like I was something to be measured. Something small.
A dragon. Why the hell is a dragon here? No one's seen one in centuries. Not in the flesh.
They didn't get involved. Not in wars like this. To them, we were insects. Background noise. Something to ignore unless we got in the way.
So why this one? Why now?
She tilted her head, studying me like I was some stray mutt that wandered into the wrong camp. Then she spoke.
I didn't recognize the words. The language was strange, sharp and clean. But the sound of it hit something deeper than just my ears. It didn't feel right. Ancient. Heavy. Like it wasn't meant to be spoken by something with a mouth.
I tightened my grip on the sword, jaw locked.
Behind me, I heard breath catch. Movement.
Alaric.
I turned just in time to see him getting up. His warhammer still in hand. His face was white and tight, his eyes locked onto her like he'd just seen death made flesh.
"Gods help us. A dragon," he whispered.
His fingers started to twitch—slow, precise. A prayer. No. A spell.
I knew that chant. He was winding one up.
"Alaric, no—"
Too late.
She barely moved. A small sigh, a flick of her wrist.
A spike of ice slammed into him and lifted him clean off the ground. He flew like a kicked sack of meat, smashing through a half-frozen tent. The sound of armor and ice breaking rang out like bells.
I didn't think.
"Stop!" I shouted, blade raised, voice cracking under the weight of everything. I didn't raise it to fight. It was just instinct. Desperation.
Her golden eyes flicked to me. Sharp. Focused.
Then she spoke again.
This time, I caught the words. Elvish.
Old dialect. Strange, but close enough.
"Why... human... wield this?"
My eyes dropped to her hand.
The spear. The one the sorcerer had used. The same one that had cut our men down like stalks of wheat. I hadn't seen her grab it, but now it hung at her side, dull and quiet in her grip.
My mouth was dry. I tried to form a sentence, but the cold and panic made the words come slow.
"We... not... use," I muttered. It came out wrong. Clumsy.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Lie."
I swallowed, hard.
She stepped closer.
"How... human... have?"
"I... not ours. Not... learn," I forced out.
Her face darkened, a flicker of something sharp behind her eyes.
"Not learn?"
I kept my sword raised. Barely. My arm shook with the effort.
"We... no magic."
Stupid. I knew it as soon as it left my mouth.
Her gaze turned cold.
"Foolish," she said.
Then everything shifted.
The air wrapped around me like chains. Tight. Cold. I couldn't move. The frost gripped every joint, locking them in place.
Pain stabbed through my skull like a spike. My knees gave out. I nearly collapsed.
She was in my head.
I tried to fight her off, but it was like trying to claw your way out of a snowdrift with your bare hands. My thoughts twisted, scattered. I saw flashes. Blood. Fire. That spear cutting through bodies. The way the men screamed.
Then something else. A war. Not mine. Not human.
Her grip slipped, just for a breath.
That breath was all Alaric needed.
His warhammer slammed into her side. The kind of blow that would've caved in a ribcage.
She didn't even grunt.
She turned. Slowly. Eyes narrowed like she was annoyed more than anything.
Alaric was panting, sweat beading on his face. He had thrown everything into that strike.
And it hadn't even scratched her.
Her hand snapped out, grabbed him by the throat.
He gasped. Frost spread out from her fingers, crawling over his chest, turning steel to ice. His warhammer slipped from his grip and hit the ground without a sound.
I didn't stop to think.
I moved.
My sword came down toward her back, desperate and wild.
She caught my wrist with her free hand.
The pain was instant. Her grip was like a vise. Ice shot up my arm, locking my joints, making my muscles seize. I would've dropped if she let go.
She didn't.
She looked at me.
Really looked at me.
Something changed in her eyes.
She let Alaric go.
He dropped like a stone. Didn't move.
Then, before I could even process it, she twisted and pulled me in like I weighed nothing. Her arm locked around my waist and the world tilted.
Her wings spread wide, blocking out the stars.
And then we were in the air.
I screamed.