The sky over the Eastern Vale was red before sunrise.
Not the soft red of dawn, but the burning, angry red of fire.
Braxton woke to the sound of ground shaking. Not footsteps. Not marching.
Wings.
Lucien was already up, hand on his blade with eyes sharp. Damon was at the doorway, barking orders to the younger scouts. Lukas stumbled out of his blanket. His hair was wild.
“What the hell is that–” Lukas’s words cut short when the first roar tore through the air.
They ran to the ridge overlooking the valley. And what they saw below… it didn’t look real.
The mage settlement, white stone towers and crystal spires, was under siege.
Massive, scaled shapes dove through the clouds, breathing fire, sweeping tail strikes that shattered walls and sent bodies flying.
Dragon shifters. Dozens.
T
