The night sky glowed red with fire.
From the hills, Daya could see entire villages burning. Thatched roofs collapsed in showers of sparks, fields crackled with flame, and the screams of fleeing families echoed like a terrible hymn across the plains.
Her hands clutched tightly at the reins of the horse she sat upon, her knuckles white. She had begged to remain at the palace, but Prince Vanda had given her no choice.
"You will come," he had commanded before they rode out. "You will see what it means when Rosa dares step into my land."
Now, watching the carnage from the safety of a guarded hill, Daya wondered if her heart could bear what he meant.
Below her, the thunder of hooves rolled across the darkened fields. Vanda rode at the head of his army, crimson cloak snapping like a banner of war. His men surged behind him in disciplined formation, their armor glinting dully in the firelight. Each one carried steel and fearsome purpose, ready to strike for their prince.
The enemy was waiting. Rosa's soldiers, clad in black and silver, had already spread across the border villages like a plague. Their war cries rose as they clashed with the first wave of dragon kingdom warriors, and steel rang loud against steel.
But it was when Vanda drew his sword that the tide shifted.
Flames erupted along the blade, the fire so bright that even from the hill, Daya flinched at its glow. His roar carried above the clash of armies, a sound so primal it seemed to shake the earth itself. Soldiers on both sides froze for an instant, staring at him in awe and terror.
Then, with a guttural cry, Vanda charged.
The battlefield exploded.
Where he rode, fire carved a path of death. Enemy soldiers fell screaming, their armor melting under the heat. His strikes were merciless—precise, brutal, final. His men followed with renewed fury, cutting through Rosa's lines.
Daya pressed a trembling hand to her lips. She had known he was strong, that he was feared, but seeing him like this—wreathed in fire, destroying dozens with every strike—was like watching a god of war unleashed.
And then it happened.
With a roar that split the heavens, his body changed. Scales shimmered across his skin, black as obsidian. His form expanded, bones cracking, wings bursting wide. The ground quaked beneath the transformation, and within heartbeats, Prince Vanda was gone.
In his place stood the Dragon.
Massive, terrifying, magnificent.
The fire in his chest lit the battlefield like a second sun. With one mighty beat of his wings, enemy lines scattered, their formation collapsing. He opened his jaws, and fire poured forth in a torrent that consumed dozens in a single breath.
Rosa's army faltered. Some threw down their weapons in surrender. Others fled, their screams vanishing into the burning night.
But the Dragon Prince showed no mercy. His claws raked through battalions, his tail sent men flying, and his wings blotted out the stars. His wrath was absolute.
Daya could not move. Her heart pounded so violently she thought it might burst. She had feared him before, had trembled at his anger—but this was something else entirely. This was not merely a prince or even a man. This was power beyond mortal comprehension.
And yet… her heart ached. Because beneath the awe, she saw the loneliness of it. The way his fury consumed everything, leaving him standing alone amid fire and blood.
At last, the enemy broke. Survivors fled into the night, abandoning their dead. The battlefield grew quiet, save for the crackle of flames and the groans of the wounded.
Vanda descended in a storm of wings, folding back into his human form. His chest heaved with exertion, his armor scorched, his blade dripping with blood. The battlefield was his.
But it was then, across the smoke and ruin, that she appeared.
Rosa.
She rode a white stallion, its hooves untainted by the mud and blood. Her gown was black as midnight, her golden hair gleaming in the firelight. Her smile was cold, cruel, and triumphant.
Daya's stomach twisted painfully. Rosa's gaze locked onto her instantly, hungry and merciless.
"Vanda!" Rosa's voice carried with unnatural clarity across the silence. Even the wounded stilled to hear her. "Impressive. You slaughter well. But you cannot protect her forever." Her smile widened as her finger lifted toward Daya. "When you fall, she will be mine."
Daya froze, her breath caught in her throat.
Vanda's golden eyes snapped to Rosa, blazing like molten suns. His wings flared slightly, his fury rolling off him in waves.
"If you touch her," he growled, his voice low and thunderous, "I will burn your world to ash."
Rosa laughed. It was a terrible sound, sharp and mocking. She turned her horse, her gown flowing like shadow. "We shall see, We shall see."
With that, she vanished into the smoke, her mocking laughter trailing behind her.