The scrape of his scales against my skin when he adjusts is nothing, barely there, but it jolts through me harder than the monster’s hiss.
The thing hauls another length of its body free. Its shoulders heave over the rim. Stones shower down in bursts. Its claws gouge forward, stretching toward us.
I choke, gasping, and backpedal a step. His hand snaps out, catching my wrist. His claws don’t cut, but the grip is iron. He drags me to his side, closer than breath.
“Together,” he growls.
The sound rumbles through my chest, as steady as the earth itself. I nod once, hard, my pulse stuttering so fierce it feels like my skin can’t contain it.
The monster’s eyes flare brighter, molten in the dark. Its head lifts higher, horns glinting, shadow swallowing shadow.
It knows exactly where we are.
It roars—deep and rolling, shaking the canyon, the dunes, the marrow of my bones. The roar splits the night.
It’s so deep and violent I feel it in my bones before the sound even reaches my ears. I clap my hands over them, but it does nothing—sand pours over the rim in sheets, the ground shudders beneath my boots.
He doesn’t flinch.
The scarred warrior spreads his stance, wings flaring wide, tail lashing hard enough to send grit skittering. His lochaber gleams in the moonlight, angled forward like a living extension of him.
Then it comes.
The monster drags its bulk onto the ledge with a sound like stone cracking. Its head rises higher. The stench is foul, a mix of rot and acid that makes my stomach lurch.
It lowers its head and inhales, that massive chest swelling. I stagger back one step. Just one.
My fingers tighten on the knife until my knuckles ache. Everything in me screams to run, to hide, to let the warrior meet it alone—but I don’t. I lift my blade, arm shaking, throat tight with defiance. If he stands, then so do I. I will do what I can to help.
For a heartbeat, the only sound is my ragged breath and the monster’s hungry snarl.
Then he moves.
The Zmaj explodes forward, a blur of scars and muscle and steel. His lochaber arcs with precision, slicing across the creature’s snout. A spray of dark ichor bursts free. The monster jerksback, rearing with a guttural screech that rattles my ribs. Its tail lashes, smashing into the canyon wall hard enough to cause cracks to spider out.
He lands light, blade raised again, shoulders coiled and ready. His strike was clean, purposeful—but not enough to stop it.
The beast answers with fury.
It lunges, one massive forelimb swiping across the ledge. I throw myself aside, sand and rock exploding into the air around me. Claws carve trenches through stone, gouging the ground where I stood a second ago. My boot slips, the rim crumbling beneath me, and for one sick heartbeat the void yawns below.
A hand slams around my arm.
He yanks me forward, my back striking his chest, his wings flaring wide to shield us from the spray of debris. The ground bucks as the monster’s tail smashes down, sending a wave of grit over us. His claws tighten—not crushing, but steadying. I feel his hearts pounding against my spine, steady and powerful despite everything.
The beast rears back. I lift my knife, though it feels pitiful against something this size. He doesn’t let me go. His stance shifts, turning us both with him, lochaber angled to deflect.
It spits.
A wide arc of green venom sprays across the ledge, hissing and burning wherever it touches. The path behind us is cut off instantly, stone melting into black pits, the air thick with acid smoke.
My throat seizes. We’re trapped.
The ledge narrows behind us into nothing but the drop. The desert beyond is blocked by the thing. The beast coils for the kill.
I grip his arm without thinking, fingers digging into scarred scales. He doesn’t shake me off. Instead, he leans forward, lochaber rising steady in his other hand. His voice rumbles low—not a command, not even words meant for me—just the sound of him, like stone grinding, promising that this isn’t where we fall.
My pulse pounds so hard I feel it in my teeth.
