4: Darken War

8: Alana

Chapter Eight: Alana

I flew the entire way back to my kingdom, wings slicing through the sky like knives. The wind roared past my ears, stinging my eyes as the sun broke through the dissipating clouds overhead. Below me, the landscape of my homeland stretched like a living tapestry—rolling hills, smoking volcanoes in the distance, and the winding rivers that carried trade and life between the villages. The palace loomed ahead, still under reconstruction after our last war. Scaffolding clung to its flanks like ivy, but the proud obsidian and gold stone still shimmered with draconic majesty.

I landed with a thud on the palace training grounds, the force of my arrival kicking up dust and drawing every gaze.

"My queen!" the warriors cried out in unison, bowing their heads respectfully.

About fifty warriors gathered around me, armed and armored in scaled leathers and steel, wings tucked behind their backs. The air here smelled of ash, sweat, and hot metal. It was home.

"We need to prepare for war," I said, my voice loud and sure. "Our allies have called, and the Great Dragon requires our aid against the dwarves."

The captain of the guard—Argon, the man who'd trained me since I could first wield a sword—stepped forward. He was tall and grim, with a scar running across his left eye and a pair of wings as dark as coal.

"We can take flight at once, My Queen," he said with a firm nod.

"Good. Gather every able body. Wings, blades, claws. No exceptions."

"That won't be necessary," came a voice behind me.

I turned sharply, sword hand twitching—only to see Alexandria land behind us in a slow, elegant descent.

But something was wrong. I hadn't sensed her power. Normally I could feel her magic before I even saw her. Today, there was only silence.

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.

"I've resolved everything with the dwarves," she said with a smile that felt...off. "The matter's been taken care of."

I bowed politely, as did my warriors, but I kept my eyes locked on her. Something felt off, hollow, like a painting of a person instead of the real thing.

"When did you learn to fly?" I asked, motioning to my troops. They didn't move yet, but they watched.

"Recently," she replied, stepping closer. "I've already notified... Thorne... to stand down."

Her pause. That damned pause. It was enough to confirm my unease.

"Alexandria," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "Do you remember when we met? When my brother said he hoped we could be great friends after you fell in love with him?"

She smiled again. "Indeed. To have found love a second time was a blessing. I'm grateful I have a child to remember him by... and a dear friend in you."

That did it.

I smiled tightly. "Nice try. You had me going for a moment. But I'm not a fool. Who are you?"

"Oh? Did I get the details wrong?" Her voice faltered, her eyes shifting. "A shame. I had hoped to avoid war."

I drew my sword, the steel glinting gold in the sunlight. The warriors around me followed, drawing their weapons with a chorus of metal.

"I won't ask again. Who are you?"

Her body shimmered, the illusion breaking like a cracked mirror. Before me stood the dwarven advisor—his smug grin plastered across his face.