Fury builds in my chest, hot and explosive. My Inferno monster rakes at my body, begging to be set free. I have worked hard to cage him, train him to be still, be patient, and focus his energy. But now all I want is to burneverything.
I charge across the crusty ice toward the hatchlings and feel the fire lick up my neck, consume my shoulders, then still again. My Inferno isn’t sure it has permission.
“Don’t bitch out the one time I fucking need you!” I growl.
The hatchlings and the entire squadron are going to die if I don’t summon a blaze strong enough to melt ice. The devastation around me digs into my core with vicious fingers and claws apart the walls I built around my Inferno.
Flames swell again with my frustration. I close up my battle mask with a simple notion in my mind, and it unfolds from behind my ears, covering my face and leaving only my eyes open.
Then I release my wings, and they ignite from pent-up tension. Bringing my hands together, I focus my hatred of Talhuskins, of innocents paying the price for me, and the unfairness of this wretched galaxy.
I channel my rage into a swelling fireball. Then, I let it go, launching the thunderous tephric blast across the land, melting icy caskets and scorching everything not buried.
My monster, the Inferno within me, now has control. And it will until I am taxed or I am dead. It is why I never let it out. Dragons are supposed to have control. I may have their power, but I am not in control.
The hatchlings stumble free of their dripping cages. The larger one picks up his brother and runs toward the others, who crumple as the ice turns to poisoned water that soaks into the ground. In the distance, a freed soldier activates a bore unit, and those I’ve released group up and jump into the depths of the planet.
The Talhuskin barrage vaporizes above the world I’ve lit on fire. But there are more I must save, and my Inferno knows it. It senses them through the blaze, like it can hear their cries.
My vision tinges black and white on the edges and red before me, pulsing, as my Inferno takes over the hunt. It breaks Pyraforce rules and stretches until it pushes out from my skin, raising me into a new beast of molten rock and fire.
I bolt toward the city, arc my wings, and take flight. They carry me far above the others, a relic of a tradition we hide from the galaxy because of how the Talhuskins love to shred our wings just to torture us. To many other species, my actions would look like destruction. To my people, breathing fire is as essential as the molten ore in our veins.
I patrol our colony and the outskirts, melting frozen tombs and every bullet that pelts my position. Most of the ones that I free will live, but their Infernos will need time to heal from the poison.
Someone has coordinated the underground escape. When the last of my kind are freed and headed below ground, I turn my focus to the source, laying waste to our world.
A retreating Talhuskin patrol ship makes a good target, but I have my eye on the largest ship in the sky. So I hitch a ride. The fighter’s gun swivels to face me. But I am rage and adrenaline and too hot for most normal living things to touch. I grab the gun by the mount, feel the metal soften beneath my fingers, and tear it free. I throw it off the ship with a roar.
Talhuskins have no one left to target but me. They have so much hatred for what I am that they fire at their own ship. I kick free and soar into orbit, heading for them, flames trailing my wings.
Most of the poisoning attack vaporizes, but several shots make it through, pelting me like rocks before slipping away to fall to the planet’s surface below.
I keep going, enduring the hits, rising and racing toward their ship with years of pain and loathing fueling my flight.
I aim for the system most likely to render a catastrophic blast. The Talhuskins’ propulsion system is within view and a decently explosive target. Bullets thin out as I near the mothership’s hull. I fold up my wings, grab the tips with my hands, and tuck my knees. I am going to breakeverything. But I am the only viable weapon against a ship of such magnitude.
When I impact the hull, my shield only holds momentarily before sputtering out and shutting down. My flaming body melts and caves the metal. I punch inside and into a chamber that erupts in a blaze. It bursts out of the containment room and into adjoining passageways.
In a brief moment of stillness as the forces equalize, I see a Talhuskin peer inside through a window. They are taller than my kind, brown, and lightless with a bigger wingspan. They think they are superior.
They stole us from our home to serve them because we have wings like they do. We could fly in and out of the rocky cliffs they call home. But I remember the day they made us bind our wings.
I remember as I get to my feet in the blaze among shattered fuel cell parts and watch the heat light up the room he’s in. He turns and runs.
He is not fast enough.
I savor his end.
It is one small victory.
The vacuum of space pulls hard on my shaking body. Pangs thrum everywhere until I cannot count what is broken. But I see my drooping right wing and the lava running down my shoulder.
It’s depressing how, when my purpose is fulfilled, all the pain I pushed out of my mind seconds before comes rushing in with incapacitating force. I fight to stay on my feet, but my power is no match for the void.
I’m sucked out into the thin atmosphere above our dying world. As I fall back toward our planet, wings tattered and my Inferno finally sputtering out, I take one last look at the fragmenting ship. Behind it, more Talhuskin warships arrive.
Dread stops my heart for a beat.
