Terror of Talons ✦ A Wings of Fire Fanfiction

Chapter Fifteen

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Shrike woke at first light, the camp already alive with the low hum of preparations. The predawn light painted the sky in shades of indigo and violet, a tranquil prelude to the storm of battle that was about to break. He stretched his wings, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep and the ever-present weight of dread. The SkyWings and MudWings around him moved with purpose, their scales glinting like amber and rubies and brown quartz in the early light.

"Colonel," Lieutenant Strix called, his voice steady and clear. "Everyone's ready."

Shrike nodded, donning his uniform with practiced efficiency. The fabric felt cold against his scales, starkly reminding him of the violence to come. Don't think about that. He stepped out into the clearing, where his wing of SkyWings was assembled, their eyes bright with determination. The MudWings, led by General Claymore, were a solid mass of earthy brown and green scales, their presence a reassuring sight. We aren't alone. We have the MudWings on our side.

Colonel Puma approached, her gaze as sharp and unyielding as it always was. "It's time. Let's move out."

With a collective beat of wings, the dragons took to the sky, a chorus of strong, practiced flaps and the low hum of disciplined breath. They flew in formation, the SkyWings providing aerial support while the MudWings followed closely below, using the terrain to their advantage. The sea shimmered ahead of them at first, and soon, it was beneath them, a vast expanse of cerulean stretching toward the horizon as they neared the New Island Palace.

The palace itself seemed to rise from the rocky island like a formidable fortress, its walls gleaming in the early light.

I didn't think I would be coming back here again so soon, Shrike thought remorsefully, his gut twisting. I wish it were under different circumstances. His heart pounded as they approached, and he signaled to his wing, splitting into their designated groups, ready to strike from multiple angles.

"Remember," Shrike called over the wind, his voice carrying the weight of command, "speed and precision. We take them by surprise."

The first explosion rocked the air, a cannonball smashing into the palace's outer wall with a deafening roar. Shrike led his group in a steep dive, the roar of the wind in their ears as they descended on the SeaWing defenses. The SeaWing soldiers scrambled to respond, their movements disjointed in the face of the coordinated assault.

Shrike landed on a parapet, slashing through a SeaWing soldier who rushed at him, desperately trying to push aside the sickening feeling in his stomach as his claws tore through her scales and her midnight blue uniform, staining it a deep, dark red. The smell of smoke and saltwater and blood filled his nostrils as cannons exploded and ballistae fired around them. His heart raced, but he forced himself to stay focused. Every strike, every movement, had to be precise.

"Colonel!" Strix shouted, flying over. "The cannons are in place. We're ready to breach the inner wall."

"Do it!" Shrike ordered, his voice firm. "Push forward!"

The MudWing artillery unleashed a barrage of cannon and dragonfire, the walls of the palace trembling under the assault. Shrike's group surged ahead, using their own fire to clear a path. They reached the palace gates, where a fierce battle ensued.

The cacophony of battle was a symphony of chaos. The clash of steel, the roar of fire, the shouts of commands and cries of pain blended into a single, overwhelming sound.

I hate it, I hate this, please, three moons, get me out of here, he cried internally, barely able to think over the cacophonic noise. Shrike fought his way through the chaos, his claws and teeth striking with precision. He made his way into the palace, the corridors echoing with the sounds of battle. He entered a grand hall, its walls adorned with SeaWing banners.

There, in the midst of the chaos, Shrike spotted a room that looked like it might be of importance. He burst through the intricate door, inlaid with azure gemstones and shimmering silver patterns, and found himself in what appeared to be a royal study. Scrolls and maps were scattered across a large table. Shrike quickly grabbed a few scrolls that looked like battle plans or SeaWing secrets, shoving them into his pouch.

As he turned to leave, he felt a sickening guilt churn in his stomach. Stealing plans from the enemy felt dishonorable, even in the midst of war. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus.

Spies do it all the time. It is no different when I do it. It's for my tribe. This is war.

There was no time for doubt.

Outside, the battle continued to rage. The strength of the SeaWing soldiers was crumbling under the relentless assault, and they were fighting desperately to hold their ground.

Shrike rejoined the fray, his talons horrifyingly slick with SeaWing blood. The SkyWings and MudWings fought fiercely, their combined strength overwhelming the SeaWing defenders. Despite the violence, Shrike moved with a determined purpose, his mind set on the mission. I cannot fail. I mustn't.

As the battle raged on, Shrike caught a glimpse of silvery scales.

Chimaera.

The lieutenant was mostly unharmed, fighting valiantly alongside his fellow SeaWings. Shrike's heart ached, but he pushed the feeling aside.

Chimaera didn't see him, and for that, Shrike was eternally grateful.

He is the enemy.

I cannot think of him as anything more than that.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the SeaWing forces began to falter. The combined assault of the SkyWings and MudWings was too much. The SeaWings started to surrender, their weapons clattering to the ground. A sense of grim relief washed over Shrike as the battle came to an end.

General Claymore and Colonel Puma gathered the remaining forces, ensuring the palace was secure. Shrike stood among his dragons, the weight of the stolen scrolls heavy in his pouch. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that lingered, but he knew he had done what was necessary.

"Colonel Shrike," Puma said, her voice cutting through his thoughts. "We did it. The palace is ours."

Shrike nodded, his gaze drifting to the horizon.

The palace, he thought morosely. The New Island Palace was a mere husk of the once elegant and beautifully imposing structure that it once was. We did this. We destroyed this.

The war was far from over, yet they had won a crucial victory. I cannot afford to forget that. I must remember that this is a good thing.

The New Island Palace was under their control, and with it, they had gained a strategic advantage.

The RainWings won't be able to meet here with the SeaWings, not anymore. This was where the SeaWings did most of their planning. This is for the better.

So why do I feel so sick?

As the dragons began to regroup and tend to their wounded, Shrike couldn't help but think of the scrolls and the lives he had taken. He hoped the scrolls would provide the edge they needed, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

War had a funny way of blurring the lines between right and wrong. Shrike knew, as the guilt tore and gnawed at his stomach, that he would have to live with the choice he had made, with the scrolls he had stolen, with the soldiers that he had murdered with his own talons. Why did I let myself get dragged into this? He couldn't shake the feeling of his talons clawing at SeaWing scales or his teeth sinking into the ocean dragons' scales.

He pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand.

Don't think about it. You're making it worse.

The first battle was over, but the war would only continue to rage on. And Shrike needed to do whatever it took to ensure their victory.

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A/N – im so sorry for the short chapter again guys😭😭 this literally took me so long to crank out, ive unfortunately been hit by a bout of writers block as of recently haha . hopefully the next chapter will be longer !!!!