Chapter 6

C rimson flames licked the edges of Kaxim’s vision as he spiraled through the kaleidoscopic dreamscape.

The kríffin’s fierce eyes, glowing like twin amber and gold embers, seared into his soul. Her scarlet wings unfurled, flame-tipped feathers trailing wisps of fire against the bruised sky.

Kaxim’s heart raced, blood thundering in his ears as her ferocious cry split the heavens, challenging him.

They clashed in a dizzying aerial dance, talons flashing, pinions buffeting with hurricane force. Her movements were molten grace, fluid, and searing.

He matched her, move for move, in utter entrancement.

Their gazes locked, obsidian on glowing amber, as they hovered at an impasse. Kaxim perceived an inexplicable connection, a kindred spirit in this wild, beautiful creature.

As the dream shifted and blurred at the edges, her attackers descended on her, tearing at her plumage and krest .

Kaxim reached out a hand, yearning to touch her, to whisk her away.

But to his frustration and ire, he remained out of reach, unable to save her.

In his mind’s eye, her vibrant plumage became matted with blood, her luminous eyes dulling as the life drained from her.

He was held hostage by helpless rage as, over and over, she immolated in the sky. Only to rise again in a burst of crimson wings, the cycle repeating in an endless, tormenting loop.

He cursed when she dissolved into wisps of flame as he strained towards her. ‘Fokk!’

Kaxim gasped awake, his heart pounding a furious rhythm against his ribs.

Sweat-drenched sheets tangled around his thrashing limbs as he fought to free himself from the vestiges of the nightmare.

‘What in Devansi hell?’ he rasped.

The perspiration and heat were oppressive, and with a sigh, he strode to the edge of his tent, lifting a flap to gulp in the cool night air.

The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting an eerie silver glow over the slumbering army camp.

In the distance, the wild, shattered peaks of southern Katánē called to him, an insistent tug in his spirit.

‘ Fokkinhellshit ,’ he muttered, clenching his fists against the windowsill. ‘I cannot endure these dreams anymore.’

The soul bond’s rare and invisible thread, delicate yet unbreakable, wove itself between two hearts, transcending the constraints of proximity and time.

The tether stirred in the quiet hours of the night when the planet was still, and the stars burned bright in the velvet sky.

Kaxim lost himself in thought, the world around him a blur as he focused on the skies above the encampment.

A faint tug pulled at the edge of his consciousness, gentle and insistent like a whisper carried on the wind.

He froze, his breath catching as warmth spread through his chest. It was unfamiliar yet comforting, surfacing from the depths of his spirit—a presence like none other.

Liana.

Her name flickered through his mind, unbidden, undeniable, from millions of klicks away, on the other side of the planet.

Their connection was palpable, growing stronger, her essence crossing the distance to reach him daily.

He sensed her in a way that defied explanation. It was as if she were standing beside him, as real and tangible as the ground beneath his soles.

He closed his eyes, letting their bond pulse with wild abandon, a shared heartbeat that resonated with his rhythm.

Something shifted, and his limbs locked.

All was not well.

Something was wrong with her.

Without a thought, Kaxim summoned his rachís , feeling the familiar rush of power as they unfurled from his back, gleaming ebony in the moonlight.

He stepped onto the tent’s edge, his bare feet curling against the rough stone.

One mighty upstroke, and he was airborne, the wind whipping through his silver-streaked hair as he soared higher.

He took on his full gyrfalcon form, allowing him to cut faster through the night.

The sleeping army tent city fell away beneath him, giving way to the untamed wilderness of the south.

Kaxim flew on, driven by an inkling he couldn’t name, searching the star-strewn heavens for any sign of crimson wings and flame-bright feathers.

What he found instead was carnage.

At the border of Katánē and Ilki land, towns burned.

Villages lay in waste, bodies scattered on the ground.

A mighty force had ripped through here.

He soared lower, seeking to identify the soldiers lost.

He saw Ilki in the black and gold armor, lying dead alongside Katánian militants.

All of whom wore K?str?l krests .

He growled, his wrath rising.

Fokk, were KaKos’ men responsible for this?

His keen gaze missed nothing as he imagined the defenseless Ilkan kíjís , how their cries of terror must rent the air as the K?str?l warriors plundered their streets.

Kaxim’s heart clenched, thinking of each desperate plea and wail of anguish. The people here were suffering, caught in the crossfire of a war they had no part in.

Yet even as anger surged through his veins, his innate magus power within him told him Liana was central to all this shit.

In his mind’s eye, he tagged a haunted look in her amber glint and deep copper and gold eyes linked to these scenes.

Somehow, she was pivotal to this conflict between the K?str?ls and Ilki.

How, though, he still had no answers.

What he did need to do was gain his liege’s insight into how Katánē intended to respond.

He wheeled around with a final, ire-filled glance at the devastation below. Past the carrion and vultures and back into the skies, and veered north, his wings carrying him hard and fast towards the heart of Katánē.

Kaxim hated war.

He loathed senseless carnage, even as the Commanding General, the King’s First Armorer, his spearhead, and the lead sword of the outstanding Sāb?r Hawk Army of Katánē.

His parents had died before his eyes when he was just eight years old during a battle with a neighboring village.

Since then, he’d long carried the bitterness of the senseless cost of conflict in his mouth, acrid and metallic, a constant reminder of his past.

His training as a warrior had been compelled, for the most part, to defend the innocent, which framed his purpose.

It was his calling, and he’d ruthlessly set aside any other.

Driven to serve his King, Kaxim had honed his gyrfalcon power into that of a killer soldier.

Kaxim’s demeanor was as rugged as the battlefield he called home. Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with a heavy, deliberate stride.

His stern face, chiseled from years of conflict, bore the lines of hardship while his sharp obsidian eyes scanned his surroundings with unrelenting vigilance.

A man of warlike efficiency, Kaxim spoke in short, clipped sentences that left no room for debate.

His soldiers respected him not for warmth but for his discipline and the fear he commanded. Every action, every word, was calculated and final.

Apart from Kione, his best friend, Killen, his Kíríga , and his fighters read his energy and, most importantly, stayed away from him.

He played up to the sinister persona, his expression often set in a scowl.

He was a tempest of hardened steel, with a glare like a thundercloud and an utterance like a grating storm. His walls were tall and thick, built to keep out any notion of love or connection, and he bristled at the mere mention of women.

Until one spirit had upturned his world.

With a growl to tamp down his thoughts of Liana, Kaxim dove towards the magnificent city of Kos ahead.

It was a marvel of gleaming black marble suspended between heaven and the ebony sands below, glinting in the fading light.

He soared over the floating metropolis, its spires and domes a welcome sight after the chaos of the borderlands.

In the distance, the winding canals of Katánopolis glinted gold as they meandered through the burg, packed with kondolars that snaked under Kos’ ancient, romantic bridges.

The gentle lapping of waves on the river walls was a constant background noise, accompanied by the occasional splash of a passing boat and the distant chatter of locals.

Kaxim was oblivious to all of its beauty.

Folding back his mighty rachís , he descended upon the royal palace’s grand balcony, his talons clicking against the polished stone as he shifted into his human form.

‘I must report to the Kíríga at once,’ the Commander snarled to the startled tower guards, his growl edged with urgency.

Recognizing the First Armorer and in awe of his stature and menace, they snapped to attention and let him through.

He made his way past a series of the palace’s opulent halls with purposeful strides.

The fate of the two kingdoms now hung in the balance. Kaxim realized the words he was about to share would play a crucial role in the coming days.

Two massive Sāb?r Hawk warriors stood guard at the ornate entryway of the official royal den.

On sighting Kaxim, they clicked their taloned heels together and shoved the doors, which swung ajar, revealing the resplendent figure of Killen, the Kíríga of Katánē.

Standing, head down over a pile of scrolls, eyes narrowed on the hidden mysteries and secrets.

He wore a half-open shirt under the cloak that revealed a muscled chest covered in shifting, inky markings.

It was tucked into fitted trews that clung to the sinew of his immense thick thighs.

His long legs ended in flat, knee-high boots.

He sported a dense brow, a proud aquiline nose, lush lips, a jutting chin, and a chiseled jaw.

His silver locks caught up in a loose roll from which trailed several chrome plumes studded with jewels that stopped shy of his broad midsection.

His meta eyes glowed argent and penetrating as he read the words on the pages below.

Between them was a radiant gem embedded into his temple, which pulsed as the King sensed his presence and turned as Kaxim strode in.

‘Sky Ash, we weren’t expecting you!’

There was a lilt of joy in his deep burr.

Kaxim approached the imposing man, bowing before his liege.

‘Your Majesty,’ he began, his voice grave, ‘I bring news from the Ilki border.’

Killen’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you now? Do I first get a hug, or do you insist on rambling?’

The Commander grimaced, rose, and, in seconds, was crushed against the torso of his friend.

‘I’ve missed you, you war-mad fokker,’ Killen rasped, releasing him and stepping back to inspect his First Commander.

Kaxim’s lips curled, an emotion close to affection rising in his chest.

For Killen was also one of his closest friends and allies.

‘Didn’t miss you, not a whit, you tarred cloaca,’ Kaxim growled, a gleam in his eyes.

‘You were always a piss poor liar,’ Killen quipped, reaching for a flask at his desk.

He poured a finger of the amber liquid into two waiting glasses and handed one to his friend.

The men slammed down the drink with a growl.

Only then did the burly warrior sink into a chair in the King’s lounge.

‘Speak,’ Killen commanded, sitting across from his closest advisor.

Kaxim jerked his chin. ‘On a hunch, I flew over the southern borderlands hours ago and found the K?str?ls attacking the Ilki, who’ve managed to hold off the K?str?l army at a significant cost. In their desperation, the KaKos’ marauders have turned to raiding our border villages for sustenance.’

Killen’s brow furrowed, his eyes darkening with concern. ‘This is troubling indeed. KaKos?’

‘The Grand Dickcissel Fokker himself. It appears he’s attempting to forge a mini kingdom for himself in the south at the expense of our neighbors. His actions have and will threaten the stability of our realm. I fear this conflict will escalate if left unchecked, drawing Katánē into a war we cannot afford.’

The King leaned forward, his gaze intense. ‘What do you propose?’

‘I believe we must intervene,’ Kaxim replied, his resolve unwavering. ‘We must find a way to make KaKos disappear for good and broker peace between the Ilki and the Katánē, lest our inaction inflames old resentments and their wrath spill over into our lands.’

Killen sat back, his expression pensive.

The weight of the decision hung heavy in the aura, the fate of nations resting upon his word.

‘Who leads the Ilki army?’ the King asked.

Kaxim jerked his chin. ‘A general called RyKin, but I believe they’ve been hunting the Crimson Phoenix to help in their campaign, given her immense powers.’

Killen’s brow arched as he gave a low whistle. ‘The kríffin ?’

‘ Naam , her.’

‘Oh-oh, they’d better not underestimate her. She almost stole my kemí , and I’ve got a ton of fokkin’ respect for her moxie. Even though she’s untrained and a tad rough around the edges.’

Kaxim’s heart twisted, recalling his mid-air encounter with the flaming creature. ‘She’s a conundrum for sure.’

‘Didn’t she disappear into the wilds after our escapade on Mount Karth?’

‘She did, but they’ve kept trying to recruit her into their cause,’ the King’s First rasped. ‘I’ve searched the skies for her for several days and can’t find her. I fear they might now have her bound in Ilkana, meaning she might have relented to their requests.’

‘How do you know this?’

Kaxim sucked his teeth, unwilling to share.

He sensed Killen’s potent hawkstone penetrated his mind and sighed, knowing he’d been rumbled.

‘You’re soul bonded to her?’ Killen exclaimed, his temple furrowing even deeper.

Kaxim nodded with a weary sigh. ‘Happened some time ago.’

Killen’s lodestone probed further until the King reared in shock when Kaxim let him see the vision from his confrontation with Liana. ‘Fokk.’

Kaxim’s lip twisted into a harsh line. ‘Fokk me indeed.’

‘You know much about her?’ Killen ventured.

Kaxim shook his head. ‘ Nada , I do not.’

‘Then let me apprise you,’ Killen said. ‘Decades ago, the Ilkanite clans fell into chaos when their last queen, old and frail, was vanquished by my grandfather. The proud tribes, once united under her rule, were left leaderless and vulnerable, their power extinguished as their monarchy died. Yet hope remained. In Ilkanite lore, it was foretold that a ruler of great power would rise again. The sorcerer Kultur, a master of forbidden and ancient íkantations , sought to fulfill this prophecy. He knew the ancient bloodline still flowed in Liana, his daughter, a distant descendant of the Ilkanite queens, though her lineage had been long forgotten. Kultur ventured into the catacombs beneath Mount Karth, where Khiron, the Great Eagle, lay entombed. Using ancient magic, he resurrected Liana, fusing her essence with Khiron’s celestial might. His speed, strength, and unmatched vision became hers, binding her to the Ilkanite people and the ancient spirits of the sky.’

‘Makes sense,’ Kaxim rasped. ‘She’s got some arcane energy in her blood.’

‘Sounds like the Ilkanite Council has decided to use it to their favor. They’re onto something. With the power of Khiron coursing through her, Liana stands as the Crimson kríffin, destined to reclaim her people’s crown and restore their honor. Her return could mark the rebirth of Ilkana’s monarchy and a reckoning for those who exploited their downfall. We need to keep an eye on her.’

Kaxim grunted. ‘On top of it.’

His liege raised a brow. ‘You’ve been watching her?’

‘ Naam . Out of pure concern for her safety. Though I believe she can defend herself quite well.’

Killen jerked his chin in agreement. ‘She is a powerful being, that I know for sure. She is imbued with Khiron’s íkan and spirit, which makes her formidable. Also, quite the boon as a secret weapon against the K?str?ls.’

Both men fell silent to their thoughts.

‘There’s only one thing for it,’ the Kíríga declared. ‘Given that you’re my trusted general and right-hand man, bonded to this stunning creature, you’re our most dependable emissary.’

‘I don’t like where this is going,’ Kaxim groaned.

Killen ignored him. ‘Return to Ilki territory. Hunt her down. Find a way to gain her trust and theirs so we can decide what the best plan is. Our ultimate goal is to protect our trade routes and borders. We can’t afford for the South to go up in flames, so end this conflict by any means necessary.’

Kaxim’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. ‘With all due respect, my King, I’d prefer to stay with my soldiers. They need me at the training camps to bolster our numbers of qualified fighters as fast as possible. Besides,’ he added, his tone darkening, ‘I’m not suited for dealing with tribes and certainly not with women.’

The King’s gaze sharpened. ‘The woman is key,’ he declared, his tone leaving no room for doubt. ‘Without her, the Southlands will fall. She has the potential to unite the Ilki, but only if you guide her.’

Kaxim’s scowl deepened, his brows knitting together in frustration. ‘Women,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Always more trouble than they’re worth. I’m also not one for politics, my King. I’m a soldier. I speak with my sword, not with flowery words.’

‘There is no other way. The hawkstone commands it,’ Killen grated, his utterance brooking no argument. ‘The fate of the Lower Katánē—and perhaps all of us—depends on it. Your soul bind gives you leverage. If she is the Ilkanites’ hope, you must explore all ways to use it to your advantage and forge an alliance. She’ll follow your lead if you show her the way.’

Kaxim growled, a deep, rumbling sound of displeasure.

He turned his gaze to the side, his mind racing through the implications of what Killen asked of him.

He’d never been comfortable around women, finding their ways mysterious and their behavior often tangled in meanings he couldn’t decipher.

The thought of assuming responsibility for one—especially one as crucial as his liege suggested—filled him with unease.

But the King’s order was clear, and there was no room for refusal.

With a final, muttered curse, Kaxim nodded. ‘Very well,’ he ground out, his voice rough. ‘I’ll go to the South and do what needs to be done. But mark my words, my King—I won’t coddle her. I’ll do what’s necessary and nothing more.’

Killen allowed himself a small smile. ‘That’s all I ask, General. Protect her, guide her, and ensure the South’s survival. The rest will follow.’

Kaxim grunted in response, turning on his heel and stalking out of the throne room, his mind already bracing for the challenges ahead.

As the doors closed behind him, he cursed under his breath once more, his gut twisting with gnawing uncertainty. His instinct told him this battle might be unlike any he’d ever fought.