Standing atop of a long, broad stalagmite, a Dragonborn Warrior hissed at me. His yellow eyes glittered in determination, ready for the kill.

As a Risa, I would have been scared to death. As a Fireborn, we stood as equals vying for dominance. I bared my fangs with a mighty roar, and he mirrored every action.

"I'm not afraid of you!" I roared.

"You are mighty indeed, young demoness," he sneered, his voice an intense, bass drone like my own. "But look around you. Who is there to fight? Where are the grand armies of the Gatál?"

I ran to a nearby stalagmite which stood fifty feet off the ground. Thanks to my month-long training, I scaled it with ease in a few seconds.

No armies were marching our way. Not a single drake stood prepared to launch a firestorm. Not a single Shadow Rider rode upon his black steed.

The basalt plains were empty.

My stomach clenched. "They lied!" I shouted with clenched fists. "They lied to us!"

"Very good. You catch on quick." He bared his fangs and growled at me, talons clicking on the rough-hewn stone as he cornered me. "It's false intel designed to keep the warriors here."

"Oh, my gods!" I exclaimed. "Where are the Gatál now?"

"As we speak, their armies are amassing along the southern border of Minningen," he replied. "They'll conquer the villages first and then move on to the capital with everything they've got."

"Is this real? Is this a dream?"

"I'm a rare Dragonborn." I detected no lying pheromones from him. "I can cast spells. You have hardly any Risan spirit left, but I found just enough to form a tentative link."

"Stars above!"

"You still have time to change tactics. It's not too late. Inform your men."

I narrowed my eyes at the Warrior. "What do you get out of this? How do I know your intel is solid?"

"Because I hate the Gatál as much as you do. They destroyed my whole family."

For a moment, the Warrior looked sad, his nictating membranes closing over slowly as he lamented his fate. With a tentative touch, I reached over and gave him a reassuring pat.

He grabbed my wrist, and I shrieked. He clawed at my medallion and clenched it in his fist.

It glowed...blue.

Seraphina! Holy Mother of Mercy!

"Inform your men before it's too late, Liselle." The Dragonborn gave me a wistful smile. "Forgive me."

"For what?"

"This is the only physical proof I can give you. The Minister believe you now, as will my brother."

"What do you--?"

She slashed my shoulder with her talons, and I screamed.

"Go, now!"

❄️🔥❄️🔥

Not caring what ungodly hour it was, I ran to the bathroom and knocked non-stop on Peter's bedroom door. He awoke with a groan and answered my knock, bleary-eyed and wearing only opaque black linen braies.

He took one look at me, and all traces of his tiredness vanished. "Are you all right, Liselle? What's wrong?"

"We're being played," I said in a frantic voice. "I had a vision, and--"

"Liselle, you had a nightmare," he said, interrupting me with a gentle stroke to the cheek. "You're a Fireborn, remember? You shouldn't get those Risan visions anymore."

"Father stopped the treatments early, and you protected my soul," I insisted. "Seraphina made my medallion glow blue."

"Seraphina?" He shook his head. "Liselle, that's highly unlikely. Your Risan soul is almost--"

"You can cast magic as a Fireborn."

"I'm a Wizard, Liselle. I'm a draconic hybrid soul in a Fireborn form. That's different."

"The Risan sparks still flow between us." I grasped his shoulders, and his eyes widened. "Yes, I've noticed. That means our Risan souls are still intact. You could at least check, couldn't you?"

Peter furrowed his brow and pointed at my shoulder. "You're bleeding. What happened?"

I pulled back the sleeve of my shift to see a huge gash, one that could only come from a Dragonborn claw. Peter stared wide-eyed. "Oh, gods! You did have a vision. A real one."

My heart thudded against my ribs. "I told you!"

My black blood dripped to the floor in a steady stream. Peter grasped his magical talisman, an iron amulet with a pulsing, glowing sapphire in the center. He placed his other hand on my wound. Muttering a dark magic healing spell, he created tiny whirlwinds of dark energy that hovered above my injury like a small tornado.

I sucked in a breath through my teeth as the tiny cyclone repaired the muscle and bone, layer by layer, with the pain of a sharp needle. At the end of it, a dark, thick scar remained.  

"I'm afraid that might be sore for a while," he said in a tender voice. "She made a deep cut."

"Seraphina told me it was the only way we could know for certain that the vision was real."

"Come here. Tell me exactly what she showed you." Peter guided me towards his wooden desk and retrieved a large map of the Gatál Empire and the Free World, with Teufelwald on the outer fringes. "Where are the troops gathering?"

"In the villages outside of Minningen along the southern border," I replied.

Peter moved his fingers over the parchment and the magic sapphire pulsed and thrummed. Tiny magical figures marched around on the parchment, representing the movements of divisions, dragons, battering rams, and other divisions on both sides.

"What?" I exclaimed, pointing at our side of the map. "We have dragons too?"

"Like all races, Dragons aren't inherently good or evil," he replied. "They are controlled by Dragon Riders and follow whatever affiliation the Riders have. They are loyal to a fault."

Peter retrieved a magical crystal orb. As soon as he placed his fingertips around it, the sphere glowed with radiant yellow light. He chanted in Diabolan, and images appeared on the surface.

Frantic movements of troops accompanied the marching of Dragonborn warriors and the stomping of dragons. The earth quaked, and villagers screamed in fright.

Peter waved the image away and chanted once more. This time, a different village appeared. Puny Human Fighters and Barbarians tried in vain to defeat a Dragonborn platoon.

"Oh, my gods, Peter! They're all going to die!"

The Human and Risan villagers were outmatched as Dragonborn ripped off their heads with their bare hands. Fires blazed across the landscape, and a dragon incinerated an entire square.

"I'll be damned," Peter breathed. "You're right. We need to sound the alarm. Now!"

Peter raced up the stairs to his loft, opened the window, and blared into the Horn of War. As I donned on my full plate armor, a loud, bass rumble shook the windows and the walls of the castle. The alarm echoed across the plain, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Outside, metal clanged against metal as the massive Fireborn army armed itself for battle. We might not be able to save the villages, but we could save Minningen from the wrath of the Gatál.

Peter rushed into my room a few minutes later dressed in full plate with protective shielding on his horns, sharpened to a fine point. Only his face remained visible, his visor not yet lowered.

He cupped my face with his metal plated hand, his eyes narrowed in determination. "We're ready, Liselle. We've worked hard for weeks, and I've never seen anyone learn as fast as you. You're stronger and more powerful than any Dragonborn or Shadow Rider you'll face."

"Thanks for your help," I said with a smile. "Peter?"

"Yes?"

Say it, Liselle.

Say it.

Say it.

I took a deep breath, determined to tell him the depth of my feelings. At the last second, I changed my mind. We had to focus on the battle, not trivial things like teenage hormones.

"I'm proud we can fight side by side," I said.

We clasped our hands and forearms together, and the metal joined with a resounding clang. "As am I," he replied. "You're a wonderful woman, and I'm proud to serve with you."

Before I could say anything else, Peter hurried towards the Main Hall to gather the troops.