He tests his new body with one casual snap of massive jaws, then whips his tail sideways. A boulder the size of a compact car sails off the canyon ledge and plummets into the abyss with a fading, distant crash.
All of it is enough to distract me from the single flame I’d summoned again. It flares back into existence inside my mind. Talos waits within it, back in his fourth-dimensional realm where shape and logic give up. His eyes glow when he sees me. He knew I’d call. We’re connected like that.
We rush toward each other, and then I’m him. Or rather, my mind is in him. My body is elsewhere, safe with him in his world, while here, in the Grand Canyon, an echo of Talos takes shape. I slide into it seamlessly, settling behind his eyes and into his strength.
It’s strange. It’s instantaneous. But it works as it always has. For more than a decade now, we’ve understood each other perfectly. I get him; he gets me. And together we kick ass. Iam Samantha Moon, yes, but I am also Talos, the fire-breathing dragon from a distant world.
The T-Rex turns, confused for a moment, then charges at me along the ledge, has massive clawed feet slipping and sliding. The ground quakes with each thundering step. I lift off, pumping Talos’s mighty wings, just as Mark the T-Rex lunges at me. Teeth snap where I stood. I circle above him, wings beating hard, heat swirling in my wake. Mark bellows and leaps up at me, trying to bite, to catch, to destroy. But he’s too slow. And I’m already too high.
I twist midair and dive down, flame gathering in my chest. When it’s ready, I open my mouth... androarfire. It rains down on him like the sun itself: molten, pure, and white-hot. Heat and fury scorch his back, and sends him writhing in pain. His tail flails, jaws snapping at nothing.
The fire weakens him but doesn’t end him. The dark magic has sealed his fate. Not even dragon-fire can burn out the darkness rooted in his soul. I land hard, wings folding behind me, claws gouging stone. As I do, he barrels toward me, eyes crazed, steam rising from his scales. I do the same, rushing toward him.
We collide...
***
Mark
This was supposed to bemymoment.
I’m the apex predator. The king reborn. The bloodline of Nimrod given new flesh, new purpose. I should befeared. Instead, the witch flies as a dragon. What the hell kind of game is this?
I rush her, bellowing, my tail lashing boulders from their perches. My taloned feet pulverize the softer dirt and stone. Sherises up on massive wings, hovers just out of my reach. Her wings generate hurricane-level gusts.
Then the witch dives at me.
A streak of red flames gush from her mouth.The bitch!
I leap as high as I can, my jaws snapping shut an inch from her belly. Fire hits my neck and sears deep. I roar uncontrollably, the pain unbearable, unlike anything I’ve ever known.
She spins, coming at me again...
***
Samantha
Mark ducks the next blast, tail whipping into my flank with the force of a wrecking ball. I spin sideways and tumble through the canyon air. Rocks and strata flash past me.
Talos briefly takes over control, pivoting, righting us. He is, after all, much better at this flying business than I am.
He uses our momentum to swoop wide and comes back around. Once done, he relinquishes control back to me. Meanwhile, Mark is already moving, leaping down an incline one giant step at a time, bounding toward the river far below. I see the burnt flesh on his back: blistered, sizzling.Good.The man was too willing to kill, too willing to destroy those in his way. I can’t have that. Let him suffer.
At the bottom of the canyon, he pivots fast, faces me. His jaws snap toward my right wing. I roll upward at the last second, but his teeth catch the edge of Talos’s leathery flap. Pain rips through me, even as the wing itself tears. A ragged, guttural howl escapes my throat, followed by a fireball straight into his chest. It knocks him backward into a canyon wall.
Stone cracks under his weight as dust plumes up...
***
Mark
Dragons are supposed to be myths.
Not flying over the goddamn Grand Canyon like a divine executioner, strafing fire. Am I not a god? Am I not made of fire, blood, and spells older than mankind. A bloodline that stretches all the way down the chain into hell itself?
I am, dammit.
I explode forward from the rock, ignoring the burns across my back. I leap higher than gravity should allow. My jaws crash down, and I catch her wing. Victory!
