1. Darrokar

ONE

DARROKAR

The ancient stories spoke of beings from far away worlds. That dream hanging heavy over my thoughts put those stories at the forefront of my mind.

But it was the dark streaks of smoke in the sky that showed me something truly otherworldly had come to visit.

The crash was a speck on the horizon, smoke curling upward to stain the crimson of Volcaryth's sky. The suns hung heavy above, their fiery rays bearing down on us in judgement. I led the flight, my wings carving smooth arcs through the scalding air. Behind me, the shadows of my warriors mirrored me—loyal, deadly, unshakable.

"The wreckage reeks of foreign metal," Rath growled, his ruby-red scales catching a glint of light. "We should scour it clean before it festers."

I shot him a look over my shoulder. "Have you forgotten the difference between fear and reward?" My words cut sharp, a blade honed by years of command. "We don’t eliminate the unknown until we understand it."

Rath huffed but said no more. He knew better than to push me, though the way the veins along his neck pulsed betrayed his simmering impatience. It was his strength and his flaw—an explosive temper that mirrored his namesake, a heart of flame forever on the verge of inferno.

Vyne glided closer to my left flank. His deep purple scales shimmered faintly in the glare of the suns, his voice as steady as the flow of the sacred river. "Whatever fell from the sky wasn’t designed for Volcaryth. It can't endure this heat. Whatever, or whoever, survived that crash might need aid." His gaze flicked toward Rath. "We should at least assess before we destroy."

"Romantics and fools," Rath muttered, just loud enough for Vyne to hear. Vyne ignored it, his focus locked on the blackened trail of destruction ahead.

My vision narrowed as we drew closer, the chaotic debris field growing more distinct. Twisted shards of unfamiliar metal jutted at jagged angles from the scorched earth, smoke curling like gnarled claws over the broken landscape. Steam geysers erupted sporadically around the crash site, their lethal hiss lending a sense of unease to the already chaotic scene. And amid it all—movement. Subtle, cautious, but definitely there.

"Scatter formation," I commanded. "Sweep the perimeter. Observe, but do not engage."

They obeyed without question, each veering off with practiced precision. Seeing them move as extensions of my will stoked my pride, though it was short-lived as I descended toward the heart of the wreckage. My instincts roared in my ears—both the calculated reasoning of a seasoned leader and the maddening pulse of something far older than violence or strategy.

Her.

The scent struck me like a blade to the chest, ripping through the stale heat of molten metal and burned earth. Sweet, rich, and intoxicating, it cut through everything to brand itself into my senses.

My wings stuttered mid-beat, and I barely corrected in time to avoid a graceless landing. My claws hit the rock with more force than I intended, the impact jarring up my legs and grounding me for the moment.

Where was she?

My fangs burned, an insistent throb that radiated straight to the base of my skull, and my tongue scraped against the roof of my mouth, extra sensitive in anticipation of the taste of her. A growl bubbled at the back of my throat, low and possessive. I forced it back, barely. This was no time for instinct to override reason—though I felt the tenuous grip I had on my control fraying with every breath.

Movement to my right. I snapped my head toward it, wings flaring wide in an automatic show of dominance. The motion was fleeting, barely a flicker—a shadow disappearing behind a jagged chunk of the fallen craft. But it was enough. My claws flexed against the scorched ground.

I advanced slowly, my frame tight and ready. This wasn’t the erratic shift of lesser wildlife fleeing the chaos—it was calculated. Intelligent. And if the foreign scent mingling with hers was any indication, I wouldn’t face her alone.

The first attack came swift and silent—a jagged hunk of metal hurtling toward me, spinning wildly like an improvised blade. I sidestepped easily, pivoting as it clanged against the stone behind me. My lips curled into a savage grin. Stealth had its merits, but it could only take you so far against a Drakarn warrior.

Another projectile, this time from my left. I ducked, twisting my wings to shield my vulnerable flank as the air hummed with its passing. Rath and Vyne were watching now; I felt their shadows circling above, waiting to see how I handled the ambush. I gave no order, not yet. This was my moment to assess, to understand the enemy before deciding its fate.

A hiss tore through the air as a figure emerged—a woman, fierce and unrelenting, holding what looked like a metal staff stripped from the wreckage. Her hair, a cascade of molten red, caught the light, turning her into a living flame. Scars of soot streaked across her skin, evidence of her battle to survive the crash. Despite her apparent injuries, her stance was solid, her resolve unwavering.

She had no claws. No wings. No scales. Nothing but fragile skin and a tight-fitting, torn outfit made of some dark material that had to be soaking up the heat of the day.

Her eyes—emeralds sharper than any dagger—fixed on me like a predator assessing its prey.

I froze.

It was her.

A moment stretched into eternity as our gazes locked, the world shrinking until it contained only her. The scent of her overwhelmed me. My fangs pulsed in time with my thundering heartbeat. My wings flared wider unconsciously, a declaration I couldn’t suppress.

She was magnificent.

And she was terrified.

Her grip tightened on the staff, and I recognized the emotion in her eyes—it was defiance, strength honed under unimaginable duress. She would fight, not because she believed she could win but because the act itself was all she had, a refusal to yield.

Behind her, a second woman emerged, slighter but no less fierce. Her makeshift weapon mirrored her companion’s, though her stance was more defensive, her weight shifting subtly as she kept a wary eye on the skies.

“I’ll give you one chance to stand down.” My voice cut through the oppressive heat. I shifted my weight forward, claws digging into the rock, my intent clear. “You are not in a position to threaten, let alone win.”

The copper-haired woman snarled—an admirable mimicry of an actual predator. She spoke then, her voice sharp and foreign, the language unfamiliar and edged with desperation. I didn’t understand the words, but the meaning was clear enough: she would not surrender.

Beside me, Rath landed with a heavy thud, his laugh booming. “They don’t even have claws, Darrokar. Let me handle this,” he said, hefting his lavaforged blade as though the mere act of drawing it ended all debates. “Two strikes, and they’ll scatter like ash.”

“No,” I growled, the single word laced with steel. My gaze never left her, the connection between us tightening like a noose. “She's mine.”

Rath froze, startled into silence by the force of my claim. Good. He didn’t need to understand the depths of it, not now. Recognition burned through me, raw and undeniable. I would not allow anyone else to interfere in what was written into my very bones.

She stepped forward, her courage foolish yet compelling, and the impossibility of it all struck me anew. How could someone so fragile stand her ground against creatures born of fire and war? How could she stir something within me I’d long thought missing?

But she did, and I was powerless against it .

“Mine,” I murmured again, the word barely audible but thrumming with intent.

And she flinched. Not visibly—not to anyone who wasn’t watching her as closely as I was—but I felt it. A flicker of something in her challenging gaze.

Recognition? Fear?

Impossible. The distance between our worlds was greater than the void of stars she must have crossed to fall here.

Yet … she knew me.

I was certain of it.

I stepped closer, ignoring the warning hiss of her blade scraping against the stone. The air between us crackled, alive with tension. The heat of Volcaryth paled in comparison to the fire she ignited within me. Still, I curved my claws inward, forced my wings to lower slightly. Despite everything, I didn’t want to frighten her more than I already had.

“Who. Are. You?” I demanded, my voice a low rumble that trembled with the weight of a thousand battles fought and won. This was a different kind of war—one I wasn’t sure even I could win.

Even as her staff rose in defiance and her companion shouted something unintelligible, I prayed she wasn’t an enemy I’d have to put down.

Because killing her would destroy me.