Cassandra and Monica's wings beat frantically, tearing through the storm. Each black bolt of lightning that exploded behind them reminded them that they no longer belonged on this battlefield. They weren't warriors here—just survivors fleeing the shadow of a god.
The wind was sharp, like knives against their scales. The waves rose and crumbled into walls of water that nearly swept them back. But they persisted, each wingbeat a desperate plea to get away from that epicenter of absolute power.
When they finally got far enough away, they paused only to breathe, looking back. The horizon was a living abyss: black lightning streaked across the sky, columns of water rising like spears, and at the center of it all, a colossal shadow that made the sea itself retreat.
Strax.
No longer a man. No longer a common dragon.
Something the world seemed incapable of containing.
Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut, her heart pounding as if it wanted to escape her chest.
