The drake’s throat glows as fire builds. I dive aside as a jet of flame tears the air where I stood. Heat claws at my lungs, and the sand hardens into brittle glass.
Chaos erupts. Nyx and Lira sprint in opposite directions, hugging the perimeter. Vex vanishes into the dark under the seating. Sariah falters, ankle twisting, and the dragon locks onto her motion.
“Move!” I scream, but it’s too late.
The beast lunges. Its teeth snap shut on empty air as she rolls at the last instant, terror widening her eyes.
Nessa isn’t so lucky. The drake’s tail whips across the pit with bone-shattering force, flinging her against the wall. She collapses, limp as a broken doll.
Lira darts forward with a sword she must have snatched from the weapons rack, slashing at the beast's flank. The blade skitters off armored scales, barely leaving a scratch.
“Idiot!” Zeriel’s voice cuts across the pit. “Joints, jaw, under the wings!”
I don’t even know why he’s helping us. Maybe part of his entertainment.
The dragon rounds on Lira, fire building in its throat. I act without thinking, hurling my spear with all my strength. Not at the dragon's body—I know scales will deflect it—but at its open mouth as it prepares to breathe fire.
The spear flies, striking the soft tissue at the back of the dragon's throat. It screeches, flame sputtering as it chokes on the weapon. Black smoke pours from its nostrils.
“The neck!” Selen shouts from across the chamber. “While it's distracted!”
I grab another weapon from the rack—a hooked blade on a long handle, designed to slip between scales. The dragon thrashes, trying to dislodge the spear, its attention momentarily diverted from the individuals scattering around it.
“Can you create more distraction?” I yell to Lira, who nods grimly.
She darts forward, slashing at the dragon's foreleg. It roars, more annoyed than hurt, whipping toward her, and I dash in from behind, aiming for the vulnerable spot Selen had shown us in the anatomy diagrams. The beast senses my approach and whips its massive head around, burning eyes locking onto mine. Time slows. I can see the intelligence there—the calculation, the rage.
Just as I prepare to strike, another dragon's roar echoes through the chamber.
My blood freezes as a second set of handlers emerges from thetunnel, struggling with chains that seem barely capable of restraining their charge—a larger dragon with iridescent blue-black scales that shimmer like oil on water.
“Two specimens will make for more interesting training,” Voss announces, his voice carrying a note of malicious pleasure as he glances at Selen.
The new dragon is like a nightmare given flesh—at least fifteen feet long with serrated spines running the length of its back. Its scales are darker, its frame leaner than the fire drake, built for speed rather than raw power. Its eyes gleam with an unnerving intelligence as it surveys the pit.
“An ashblood! This is madness!” Selen's voice rings out.
The handlers secure the ashblood's chains, but I can see the metal links straining against its strength. The fire drake, still choking on my spear, retreats to the far side of the pit, wary of the newcomer. Even one dragon recognizes the threat of another.
“Lira!” I yell. “Get to the wall!”
She doesn't question, immediately sprinting for the tiered seating. Nyx drags the unconscious Nessa toward safety while Vex materializes from the shadows to help Sariah limp away from the center.
The ashblood's chains snap taut as it lunges toward us, jaws wide enough to swallow a person whole. I dive toward the nearest tier of seating, heart hammering against my ribs. The dragon's claws rake the sand where I stood moments before, leaving furrows deep enough to bury a leg.
“We need weapons!” Nyx shouts, her voice barely audible over the dragon's snarling.
“Normal weapons won’t pierce those scales!” Zeriel’s voice echoes down from the upper tiers. “They’re bred for war, not slaughterhouses.”
My mind races, frantically searching for options. The fire drake is distracted, still trying to dislodge the spear from its throat. But the ashblood is fully focused on us, its gaze sweeping the chamber, nostrils flaring as it scents our fear.
The ashblood's head suddenly jerks upward, attention caught by something above. Following its gaze, I spot a small maintenance platform suspended from the ceiling—where handlers must observe the dragons during normal training sessions. The chains on one side have partially detached from the wall, leaving it hanging at a precarious angle.
An idea forms—desperate, probably suicidal, but the only option I can see. I catch Lira's eye and gesture toward the platform, then to the weapons rack. She nods once, seeming to understand.
“We need to separate them!” I shout to the others. “Nyx, can you keep the drake busy?”
The tavern keeper grimaces but nods, grabbing a long pike from the wall. “Not for long!”
