Chapter 42 – The Sky Is Not Ours
The thunder of wings became unbearable.
The silhouette of the dragon filled the northern sky—larger than any drake, its wingspan blotting out the sun. It was not Antares, but one of his Vassal Wyrms, ancient and merciless. Its obsidian scales shimmered with violet runes, and its eyes burned with an intelligence older than kingdoms.
Jean's hand tightened on Luxclade.
Valessia cursed under her breath. "That's not ours."
The beast let out a deafening roar as it passed above Gildcrest, flames leaking from its maw. Soldiers on both sides dropped to their knees, not out of reverence—but pure instinctual terror.
Whitney stepped beside Jean. "It's one of the eastern sentinels. Antares is sending a message."
Kael nodded grimly. "He knows you drew the blade."
Jean stared at the sky. "And he's not the only one."
The dragon did not attack. It circled once, casting its shadow across the ruined spire, then turned and vanished into the distant mountains, leaving behind silence and dread.
Valessia lowered her hand, her posture tense. "A temporary truce, Emissary. The Empire did not come to die beneath dragon fire. But this is not over."
She turned to her knights. "Withdraw. For now."
The Iron Legion backed away, their departure swift and disciplined.
Jean exhaled, her body trembling as the adrenaline faded.
Silvia placed a hand on her shoulder. "He's probing your strength. Testing the world's readiness."
Whitney's eyes were fixed on the sky. "And soon, he'll stop testing. He'll start destroying."
Cassien spoke up. "We need to regroup. Gildcrest won't survive a second siege—not from dragons, not from the Empire, not from Sylas's remaining forces."
Jean nodded. "Then we'll prepare. Rally the loyal Houses. Warn the other Emissaries. The war we were trained for isn't coming. It's here."
She turned to the city.
"Start the defenses. Light the wards. Tonight, Gildcrest breathes—but tomorrow, we stand against the sky."
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