No bond warmth.
Just cold precision.
And a mission waiting beyond the hills.
We took off as one, dragons surging into the sky with a thunder of wings and wind. Kaelith rose without hesitation, her movements powerful and precise, as if she were following instinct, not will. I didn’t speak to her. She didn’t speak to me.
Above us, Hein led the flight, his silver-blue wings cutting through clouds like a blade parting silk. He moved with purpose, heading southeast—toward Brosha’s border.
I knew we were close when the wind shifted, warmer, carrying the faintest scent of ash.
Zander’s mind brushed against mine, steady, open.
Are you alright?
Fine,I replied, then hesitated before asking,What’s the name of the outpost?
There was a beat of silence before he answered.
Haldrin Outpost. One of the old supply stations from before the Unification. There are dozens of them scattered across the continent, quiet now, mostly used for refueling, message drops, merchant rest. But Haldrin sits right on the edge of Brosha’s boundary.
So it was important once?
It still is. Enough that someone took it.
I didn’t ask how he knew.
We all felt the shift in the wind, the slow descent as Hein dipped lower, signaling us to follow.
That’s when I saw it.
Smoke.
Thin at first, curling like dark fingers through the clouds—but then thicker, denser, pulling upward from charred roofs and smoldering trees.
The outpost came into view as we circled—a ring of stone walls cracked and broken in places, the central tower half-collapsed, its banner torn to shreds. What had once been a well-kept military hub was now a scar on the land, blackened and gutted.
Barracks burned to the foundation.
Wagons overturned.
There was movement below.
But the fire wasfresh.
We landed in a wide arc beyond the shattered outer walls, the dragons touching down with practiced grace. Dust and ash blew across the clearing, the scent of smoke clinging to everything—hair, armor, skin.
Kaelith didn’t even look at me when I dismounted. She turned away, wings folding tight against her back as if this place disgusted her. I didn’t blame her.
None of us spoke as we approached the outpost.
The gate hung crooked on one hinge, blackened and half-melted from fire. Inside, the once-proud station had collapsed into somethingruined. Stone walls charred. Tents reduced to ash and canvas scraps. Wooden structures now piles of soot and jagged beams. It didn’t look like a military hub anymore.
It looked like a graveyard.
But it was still alive.
People moved like shadows through the wreckage, silent, many with their eyes fixed on the dirt at their feet. The outpost had always been more than just a supply station—it was a village, a home for the families who manned it, who kept the communication lines running between kingdoms.
