The Decent

The sound was not just a roar; it was the physical manifestation of Marcus’s rage, a primal wave that cracked the night sky and struck the unstable ground of the Heartwood Grove. It was the sound of a Dragon King realizing he’d been chasing a phantom while his Queen and sons were in the center of the storm.
I hit the dirt hard, the consecrated dagger flying from my numb hand. The earth bucked beneath me. The Heartwood Grove, our sacred nexus, was spiraling into self-destruction. The jagged tear I had created by piercing the altar now radiated outwards, consuming the ritual’s residue and the grove's own ancient, binding magic.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, fighting the dizziness, my eyes frantically searching the swirling darkness.
Adrian was the closest. His small, limp body had slid a few feet from the splintered altar. He was unconscious, still bleeding, but free.
Sophie was next. She was slumped against the crumbling remains of the ritual circle, her arm still bleeding onto the dirt, her eyes wide with shock and pain, but she was breathing.
Atlas was the most immediate threat. He was staggering, momentarily stunned by the magical feedback loop and the sonic blast, but he was already recovering, his purplish eyes blazing with inhuman fury.
He saw Adrian, the original sacrifice, unguarded. He saw the new, infinitely more valuable prize—the pregnant Queen. And he made his choice.
He launched himself toward me, ignoring the princess, ignoring the unstable ground. "The second nexus is mine!" he bellowed, his voice distorted by the Elder God’s power.

Dragonfire and Vengeance

Before I could even roll away, a massive shadow plunged through the canopy above. The remaining oaks shrieked as they were torn aside by a force far greater than any ritual.
Marcus did not land; he descended.
He struck the ground between me and Atlas with the impact of a falling meteor. The ensuing shockwave flattened the last standing remnants of the Grove and sent a plume of dirt and pulverized stone into the air.
He was in his hybrid form: scaled armor covering his body, immense draconic wings spread wide, casting a terrifying silhouette in the churning light, and a face contorted by pure, unadulterated vengeance.
Atlas skidded to a stop, the bloodlust momentarily checked by the sheer, overwhelming presence of his brother.
"Marcus!" Atlas shrieked, a touch of desperation seeping into his voice. "Look at what she has done! She destroyed the bond! She ruined your chance at eternal power for a bastard child!"
Marcus didn't acknowledge the words. He didn't even turn his head. His focus was a terrifying, singular point of rage directed solely at his brother.
A guttural, world-ending sound tore from his throat. Dragonfire erupted—not just a flame, but a searing, concentrated torrent of white-hot golden energy, the power of the Dragon King at its absolute apex.
Atlas, fueled by the Elder God, raised a shield of concentrated purple power. The golden fire struck the shield, and the air around them turned into a blinding, screaming collision of light and impossible heat. The very atoms of the air were separating.
Marcus was attacking with the deliberate intent to unmake his brother.

A Choice in the Ruins

The ground was shaking so violently that the battle between the two kings looked less like a fight and more like the end of the world.
My first thought was Adrian. He was too close to the blast radius.
I crawled across the rubble, my side screaming in protest. I reached my son, scooping his small, cold body into my arms. He felt feather-light. His heartbeat was faint, but steady.
"Adrian, stay with me," I whispered into his hair, tears blurring my vision.
As I struggled to move away, Marcus’s fire momentarily overwhelmed Atlas’s shield, forcing Atlas to abandon the defensive and channel his power into a massive, concentrated strike aimed directly at his brother’s exposed flank.
I saw the strike coming—a bolt of pure, corrosive purple energy.
"MARCUS!" I screamed.
The King reacted, but slowly, having committed all his power to the offensive blast. He turned, the purple energy slamming into his shoulder. Even with his hybrid armor, the blast ripped through the scale, and Marcus roared, not in pain, but in sheer, cold fury.
The momentary disruption was all Atlas needed. He didn't continue the attack on Marcus. He executed a sudden, sickening pivot, realizing that victory lay not in defeating the King, but in retaking the Nexus.
He hurtled toward me.
"Give me the child!" he screamed, his hands outstretched, his eyes locked not on Adrian, but on the swelling life within me.
I clutched Adrian fiercely to my chest, my mind blank with terror, knowing I couldn't move fast enough.
Suddenly, a figure rose from the rubble. Sophie.
She didn't have her mother's strength or her father's fire. She had only a bleeding arm and a young woman’s boundless will. She used her body as a living barricade, throwing herself at Atlas’s legs, tackling him just as he was about to reach me.
"No!" she yelled, driving her shoulder into his knees.
Atlas went down, roaring in surprised frustration. The impact jarred me, but I used the second to push myself away, cradling Adrian and turning toward the shattered, unstable edges of the grove.
"Sophie, GO!" I yelled, knowing Marcus was moments from joining the fight, but she was now in the deadliest place on the Grove.
Marcus had seen the exchange. He saw his daughter, his princess, throw herself in the path of a god-fueled brother to save her mother and her siblings.
He chose.
The torrent of dragonfire that was consuming Atlas immediately vanished. Marcus transformed, shedding the large wings and scales to become the powerfully built King. He covered the distance in a single, blurring stride, grabbing Atlas by the throat and slamming him down onto a chunk of smoking rubble.
"You will never touch them," Marcus grated, his voice low, shaking the very ground.
He raised a hand, gathering the golden power—not to burn, but to crush the life from his brother.
But the final sequence was not over. As Marcus prepared the kill stroke, the ground beneath his feet gave way completely. The tear I had created in the altar reached its breaking point.
The Heartwood Grove was no more. The entire ritual site collapsed into a swirling, magical sinkhole, pulling the two battling kings down into a vortex of broken power and unstable earth.
I watched, helpless, as my husband and his brother vanished into the earth.