After that, without warning, without even the whisper of displaced air, Vaeronyx vanished into the night, leaving Leroy standing beneath the moon with a tightening jaw and a weight in his chest that had nothing to do with the war waiting at dawn.
The dragon king's disappearance throbbed at the back of his mind, a cold truth he did not have the luxury to confront: if Vaeronyx had gone searching for answers, then he feared the same thing Leroy did. The same fate. The same loss.
If not… had he abandoned them?
Morning broke too quickly.
As fog still clung to the plains, the Emperor of Vaeloria descended with his glittering army—thousands of spears glinting like a field of thorns, banners rippling proudly in the wind, arrogance radiating from every polished surface. He rode forward alone, dressed in crimson and gold, the colors of a crown he no longer deserved, and called out with a voice loud enough to scrape across both armies.
"Surrender!" Leroy ordered.
