The night air hit them as they stepped out of the tent—cool, sharp, and thick with the metallic tang of dragon scent and stormlight.
Velkaris stood nearest, bronze scales gleaming like hammered sunlight. Beside him Onyx stirred with restless anticipation. But beyond them—five more dragons. Shadows rippled over the field: silver, black, deep green, ruby red like lightning. All had two riders.
Rex caught the question forming on her face before she spoke. His voice came easily over the wind.
"Spotters when we fly," he said, a grin pulling at his mouth. "Archers to take down anything stupid enough to chase us."
Fin said nothing at first. He simply turned to her, hands catching her shoulders, the tension in his body barely contained. He pressed his forehead to hers, the contact grounding, fierce, wordless. Then his mouth brushed hers—quick, desperate, the kind of kiss that wasn't for show but for survival.
"Don't worry, I'll be back in a few hours." she said, giving him a kiss that he wasn't expecting and made him grin. But then immediately his jaw tensed and his body tensed.
A few paces away, Jax was visibly trying—and failing—to hide his excitement. His eyes darted from Onyx's talons to his wings, to the way the dragon's scales shimmered when he breathed. He'd watched the beasts train for days and had been itching to fly one himself.
Onyx's great head swung down, rumbling softly as he brushed his snout against Jax's chest, the gesture almost affectionate. Jax laughed, rubbing the dragon's jaw.
"Who's a good boy?" Cael called from behind them in an exaggerated, ridiculous voice that cracked through the tension like sunlight through cloud.
The soldiers nearby grinned; Nova let out a low laugh, shaking her head. Onyx huffed once—a plume of warm air that ruffled Jax's hair—and Fin exhaled, the brief sound somewhere between relief and surrender.
The moment lasted just long enough to breathe in once before the command horns sounded in the distance. The dragons turned toward the sound like they could taste the air for war.
The night pressed cold and heavy around them, stars sharp above the ridge, dragons shifting like armored shadows. Rex stepped forward, lanternlight catching the edge of his jaw, and when he spoke, his voice rolled across the field with quiet, lethal authority.
"Redmoon Vanguard—fall in."
Boots snapped. Harness buckles locked. Dragons stilled.
"We fly blind tonight. No cross-pack mindlink, limited visual, and no room for error. You will follow commands exactly as given. You break discipline in a night flight, you do not get a second chance."
He paced once, hands clasped behind his back, posture carved from command.
"Our pattern is Staggered Wedge. Ten lengths spacing. Maintain spacing by silhouette, wingbeat rhythm, and thermal shadow. If you lose visual, you hold altitude and wait for signal. No drifting."
A clean, sharp gesture assigned the flight positions.
"Velkaris with me on point. I set bearing and altitude—match my line.
Veyrath—high cover. Watch the upper corridors for movement.
Serathil—low guard. Keep the underside clean.
Kaeroth, Myrraleth—middle anchors. No sag on the wings.
Draventh—rear guard. Eyes back, call tail."
Rex paused, long enough for silence to settle heavy over them.
"You break formation at night, you compromise the entire column. And if you compromise this column, your dragon will correct you before I do."
He angled his body subtly toward Nova and Onyx.
"Onyx and Nova will operate in protected arc. Do not obstruct their lane. Give them clean air."
He raised one gloved hand, outlining signals built for night flight.
"Signals:
Hand up—hold.
Hand forward—advance.
Two fingers—rise.
Palm down—drop.
Fist—tighten spacing.
Cross-cut—abort.
Point-and-hook—break right or left on my call only."
Then he paused deliberately, ensuring every rider's gaze was pinned to his.
"When we reach the site, you move above and away from Onyx. Nova takes the shot. Once that bolt flies, we regroup over the ridge. This stays clean, fast, and quiet. If we do this right, it will be over before they know what hit them."
Fin watched him move—concise hand signals, direct phrasing, no wasted motion. No arrogance. Just competence honed to a blade's edge. Even the dragons seemed to know; their heads lowered in a slow ripple, recognizing command when they heard it.
Rex stepped back into position, voice dropping into final-command cadence.
"Sound off confirmation."
One by one, the riders answered.
"Redmoon Vanguard—mount up."
In practiced rhythm, the riders swung into their dragons. Wings rustled, talons carved furrows through the cold earth.
Nova climbed onto Onyx, feeling the massive gold dragon shift beneath her, power coiling through muscle and scale. He already understood the mission—he always did—but she still appreciated Rex's rundown. The more precise the plan, the cleaner the strike.
Rex mounted Velkaris and raised his hand, the lanternlight catching the gauntlet.
"Wedge up."
The formation snapped into shape.
"Wings out."
A ripple of wings cut the night.
"We fly on my mark."
A single breath. Then—
"Three… two… one…
Launch."
Fin stepped back as the first downdraft hit him, the ground shuddering with the pulse of wings. The dragons launched—massive shadows tearing upward through torchlight, formation snapping into place.
It was breathtaking—raw power and precision layered into motion.
The wind roared around them as Onyx broke through the low clouds, the ground falling away until the campfire lights below looked like embers scattered in ash.
The rush of altitude hit Jax harder than he expected. His stomach dropped; his instincts screamed too high, and before he could stop himself, his arms wrapped around Nova's waist, holding tight.
Nova felt the sudden grip and couldn't help a small laugh, the sound soft but bright against the wind. She turned her head just enough for him to hear her over the gusts.
"Don't worry, Jax," she said, amused. "He won't drop us."
Onyx gave a low, rumbling snort, as if agreeing, wings slicing through the night air with steady, effortless power.
It took several long minutes of flight before Jax's shoulders began to loosen. The fear faded into awe as the world opened around them—mountain ridges stretching under moonlight, clouds glowing silver beneath their flight. But even when he'd calmed, he didn't let go.
He breathed in her scent, calming him. That scent that had been his whole world up until two weeks ago. The rhythm of her breathing, the steady warmth of her back against his chest, holding her like this made emotions bubble in him all at once, sharp and uninvited.
Memories hit him like arrows. Nights they'd spent tangled in each other's arms. Quiet mornings when she'd slept on his chest, hair spilling like molten silver across his skin. The days he'd been hers without question, without doubt, without pain. Holding her like that reminded him of much happier times when they were mates.
He swallowed hard, the sound lost to the wind. The urge to say something—to tell her how right this felt all at once—rose like a tide. But he didn't. He just tightened his hold slightly, enough for her to know he was there, and let the sky take the rest of it.
What could he say? Nothing. She wasn't his. He knew that. No matter how many times he talked himself through that, he couldn't help how his body yearned for her. How his heart did. His mind would wander. His wolf would howl for her. It weighed on his heart, and he had accepted that wasn't going to change.
They flew for a while. Nova was alert but Onyx already knew what he was doing. He was Rex's bonded after all.
She relaxed back against Jax without meaning to, her body recognizing the comfort before her mind caught up. She knew what they'd had was over. Finished. But the warmth of his arms around her pulled at something soft and old inside her. He made her feel safe. Happy. Even like this. She missed him. Missed the easy days they'd shared, the laughter, the closeness. The way his scent had once been home.
An hour passed like that—silent sky, moonlit clouds, Onyx's wings beating a steady rhythm across the night.
They flew like that for an hour. Jax held her tight the entire way, pretending it was still because of the flight.
The clouds thinned as Onyx and the formation dipped lower, gliding through a bank of mist that hid the moon. The night below glowed faintly with movement—something pulsing, unnatural.
Jax glanced down and his breath caught. The valley beneath them wasn't empty. It was alive with motion.
An army stretched across the ground—at least twenty thousand, maybe more. Ranks of armored soldiers flanked by dark mages whose skin shimmered with corruption, their bodies twisted with black veins of magic. Disfigured beasts lumbered between the ranks, their forms half-animal, half-nightmare. And in the center, splitting the air like a wound, was a portal—massive and roiling, almost as large as the black void Nova had removed with her golden arrows.
Holy shit.
Their plan was to remove the supply line.
Rex's silhouette flashed ahead of them, sharp against the clouds. His arm came up—fist closed, then swept open and forward. The motion was clear, practiced. Proceed as planned. No panic. No noise. Follow the objective.
Below him, the other dragons responded instantly. Rex signaled again—two fingers extended in a slicing motion toward the left and right, directing the flanking riders to hold formation. Three spotters broke slightly back and outward, bows ready, eyes trained on the horizon for aerial movement.
Nova was paying attention, every line of her body attuned to the moment, and before Jax could stop her—before he even had time to curse—she stood on Onyx.
Not lifted by gold fire.
Not consumed by ancient power.
Not guided by some primordial force older than kingdoms.
Just her. Her own strength. Her own balance. Her own skill.
Onyx steadied beneath her instantly, the massive gold dragon flattening his wings, adjusting his pitch, cutting through the drifting cloudbank with a silent, predatory glide. The mist curled around them, the sky a dim, shifting void, and still she kept her footing as though born for it.
Jax's heart stopped. His hands hovered uselessly at her calves, afraid to touch her, afraid to distract her, afraid to breathe.
Nova drew the arrow.
The faint shimmer of Lacrimaris paste glinted along the arrowhead—a thin veneer of danger glowing like stolen starlight. Her posture didn't waver. Her jaw was set. Her eyes sharpened. Her focus turned razor-fine and lethal.
And below, the war of worlds waited.
Onyx bobbed once through a patch of turbulence, a subtle rise and fall—any other rider would have dropped to their knees. Nova shifted her weight a fraction and remained perfectly balanced, unshaken.
Around them, every dragon froze mid-hover, great wings beating slow and heavy to hold position. Six dragons outside Onyx hung in the clouds like suspended shadows—massive, waiting, reverent.
Twelve pairs of eyes from riders and spotters fixed on her—hard, unblinking, silent. No one dared speak. Even the wind seemed to still, as if the sky itself wanted to watch.
And every one of them, except Jax, wondered the same thing:
Was she truly that good?
Was the golden power that had poured through her veins—and that arrow from the gods—the real reason she'd hit the impossible shot during the battle?
Or was she truly that good?
Because this was even farther than that and it was dark and windy.
She held a regular arrow, not one from the gods.
Nova drew the arrow. The tension in her bowstring sang under her fingers.
Then she felt warmth deep inside, a memory clawing its way to the surface. The hum of something ancient, not borrowed this time, but hers.
Jax felt it through their bond before she even moved. His chest tightened; his pulse raced with hers. She's got it, he realized. She's going to hit.
Nova grinned—sharp, wild, knowing. She sent the arrow screaming into the dark.
The arrow cut the air like light itself, trailing a faint golden shimmer before it vanished. It cut through the night like light itself, slicing a clean path through the cloud and leaving the faintest golden shimmer behind before it vanished into the abyss below.
Onyx rumbled a warning, the kind that vibrated through bone and instinct both. The moment it hit the air, every dragon in the formation reacted—wings snapping tight, bodies banking hard and shooting upward in a coordinated surge. None of them knew how wide the blast would reach, and not a single one of them intended to find out firsthand.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
Nova stayed standing, bow lowered, wind tearing through her thick gold-touched hair. Jax shouted her name—she barely heard him.
The explosion hit the night before the sound ever caught up.
Light swallowed the valley whole.
Then—
BOOM.
The shockwave punched upward, a violent wall of force that slammed into even the highest dragons. Onyx roared, folding his wings tight to brace, but the blast still hit like a hammer. Jax lost his grip on Nova for a split second, torn sideways before Onyx's movement caught him again.
Every rider and spotter was thrown off balance—bodies whipped by the force, arms flung wide, legs sliding across dragon scales.
Every dragon flipped or rolled, massive forms tumbling through the dark as they fought to right themselves, wings beating against the chaos of wind and sound.
The night shattered into a storm of bodies, wings, and raw power—each dragon battling the sky itself to keep from being hurled out of formation.
Jax was included in this, losing his grip on Onyx. His body tore sideways, spinning out into the night.
"JAX!" Nova screamed. She launched after him, fingers catching his wrist in a flash of gold. The force nearly tore her shoulder out of its socket, but she didn't let go. Her grip burned, magic flaring instinctively.
Air howled past them. The world spun.
Nova locked both arms around him, twisting in midair until her body was beneath his. The fall stole her breath. For a heartbeat, they hung suspended in nothing—her hair whipping, their hearts thundering in sync.
"Don't worry," she whispered, her voice fierce against the roar of wind.
Jax's arms tightened around her, holding her close like she was the only solid thing left in the world.
Then a deafening roar split the air. Onyx dove like a comet, wings slicing through cloud and storm, and caught them mid-fall. The impact hit like stone. Jax slammed into her chest, driving the air from her lungs as they landed hard against Onyx's back. He steadied instantly, wings beating, leveling into the night.
Jax's head dropped to her shoulder, both of them panting.
"Never a dull moment with you," he rasped, trying to catch his breath.
Nova coughed out a shaky laugh. "You alright there, Gamma?"
He groaned against her shoulder. "Ask me when I can breathe again."
Onyx huffed, an unmistakably annoyed rumble rattling through his chest, the dragon's wings flaring wide again.
Jax pushed himself off her, sitting up and pulled Nova with him. She leaned back against his chest, both still breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync.
When she turned, she saw the others—every dragon accounted for. The spotters were being pulled back into place, a few of them pale, some trembling, others grinning wide.
Nova shot Jax a look and couldn't stop the small grin.
Below them, the valley was gone—just fire and the fading echo of power.
Rex was the first to recover. Velkaris steadied at the lead, bronze wings catching the moonlight. Rex lifted one arm high, circling it once overhead, then pointed down toward himself.
Regroup. Reform. Rally.
The dragons moved without hesitation, closing in tight formation around him.
Nova exhaled, the rush of adrenaline fading to a pulse of pride. Jax's heart still hammered against her back, Onyx's wings beat steady beneath them, and the night sky—finally—was theirs again.
Onyx broke through the clouds, wings slicing into the open sky. The rest of the flight followed, streaking upward until the storm and smoke were far below them. The air here was cold, thin, quiet—the kind of silence that came only after chaos.
Jax let out a breath that turned into a laugh, sharp and breathless against Nova's ear. "That," he said, voice still shaking, "was one of those what the fuck moments."