Chapter 5: The Dream and The War Table
1006 Words
Chapter 6: The Dream and the War Table
Part I — The King’s Dream
King Aldric Blackwood woke with terror lodged so deep in his chest he couldn’t breathe for a second.
The scream never left his throat.
It stayed trapped inside him like broken glass.
In the dream, Earth was burning.
Not metaphorically. Not politically.
Burning.
The sky had split apart above the capital, torn open by fire and warships descending through the clouds like iron gods. Pluto banners glowed against the darkness while bombardment cannons rained molten light over the upper districts.
The explosions came silently at first.
That was the worst part.
Whole towers vanished without sound before the shockwaves finally arrived, rattling the world apart seconds later. Glass storms ripped through the streets. Smoke rolled between skyscrapers. Somewhere beneath it all, people were screaming.
Children.
Guards.
Citizens crushed beneath collapsing transit rails.
Aldric stood in the center of the destruction, unable to move.
“Get them out!” he tried to shout.
No voice came.
His guards ran past him as though he were invisible.
The palace walls cracked open behind him.
Then the dragons came.
Not creatures from old Earth legends.
These things were wrong.
Huge wings beat against the smoke-choked sky, scattering ash like snow. Their scales looked forged rather than born — black metal layered over living flesh. Violet light burned beneath the cracks in their armor, pulsing like veins full of plasma.
One landed atop the western tower.
The impact split stone.
Another tore through the defense batteries with claws longer than swords, shredding steel like wet paper while soldiers died beneath its jaws.
The smell hit next.
Smoke. Blood. Melted metal.
Aldric reached for the old weapons hidden beneath the throne room — weapons his father once swore should never be used again.
His hands passed through the control panel like smoke.
Not real.
But real enough to hurt.
The dragon turned toward him then.
Its glowing eyes locked onto his.
And suddenly it spoke in a voice that sounded almost human.
“She belongs to Pluto.”
Aldric woke violently.
Darkness.
Silence.
His chambers.
For a few horrible seconds, he still expected flames outside the windows.
But Earth remained untouched beneath the stars.
Whole.
Safe.
His breathing came rough and uneven while sweat clung cold against his skin. The sheets were tangled around his legs like restraints.
Just a dream.
That’s all it was.
Stress. Sleepless nights. Endless reports from Pluto’s borders.
Nothing more.
Still, his hands trembled when he reached for the glass of water beside the bed.
He drained it too quickly.
And even afterward, he could still taste ash in the back of his throat.
Part II — The War Table
Far beyond Earth’s orbit, buried beneath black ice and iron, Pluto’s Citadel breathed like a living machine.
Deep inside it, King Voren Virel stood before the war table.
The table itself was a relic.
Forged from the shattered hull of the first Plutonian ship that broke Earth’s blockade fifty years earlier, its surface still carried scorch marks from old battles. History carved into metal.
Above it rotated a hologram of Earth.
Blue oceans.
Golden city lights.
Fragile.
Beautiful.
Soon to bleed.
Around the table stood Pluto’s high command — generals draped in dark uniforms, admirals with medals gleaming against violet armor, officers raised on stories of Earth’s betrayal.
No one spoke first.
No one ever did when Voren entered a room.
“We strike in seventy-two hours,” Voren said at last.
The silence that followed tightened instantly.
General Kaelen activated tactical overlays across the holo-map. Red routes carved through Earth’s orbital defenses.
“The orbital grid rotates every twelve hours,” Kaelen explained. “There’s a twelve-minute blind window during station repositioning above the northern hemisphere.”
His finger tapped the opening.
“The Third and Seventh fleets enter here. Fast insertion. We cripple the defense network before Earth understands what’s happening.”
“And the civilian response?” Admiral Seryn asked.
“Chaos,” another officer answered coldly. “Mass panic within the first hour.”
Voren watched Earth turning slowly above the table.
“Fear wins wars faster than weapons,” he murmured.
Then Seryn asked the question hanging over everyone.
“The dragons?”
A slow smile crossed Voren’s face.
“Release them after the first bombardment.”
Even some generals shifted uneasily at that.
The dragons were Pluto’s darkest creation. Engineered for war. Bred beneath frozen laboratories far beneath the Citadel.
Not fully controllable.
Not fully sane.
Perfect.
“They’ll scatter the ground forces,” Voren continued. “Earth’s armies are trained for fleets and artillery. Not monsters.”
A younger officer hesitated before speaking.
“And Princess Lyra Blackwood?”
The room stilled.
“If she dies,” the officer continued carefully, “Earth loses its heir. But if she’s captured—”
“Then Aldric breaks,” Voren finished.
His eyes darkened slightly.
“Take her alive.”
No hesitation.
No mercy.
“Aldric loves his daughter too much. He’ll surrender Earth before he watches her suffer.”
“And if he refuses?” Seryn asked quietly.
Voren’s expression never changed.
“Then we use her anyway.”
No one argued after that.
Orders spread across the holo-table. Fleet paths. Strike timings. Casualty projections. Everything measured down to the minute.
Above them, Earth continued spinning peacefully in the darkness.
Unaware that men sitting beneath frozen stone had already begun planning its destruction.
For one brief second, Voren thought of Kael.
His son was still on Earth.
Still pretending diplomacy mattered.
Still soft enough to care.
A flicker of something crossed Voren’s face.
Gone almost immediately.
Collateral, he reminded himself.
Necessary for Pluto’s future.
He turned back to the war table.
And light-years away, on Earth, Aldric Blackwood sat awake in the dark, still haunted by a nightmare that felt far too real.
Neither king knew it yet.
But somewhere between prophecy and war, their children were already standing at the center of the coming storm.
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