A LEGACY OF LIGHT

LERESY

LERESY

He flew on the wind, a red dragon snorting fire, and licked his maw. He saw it below, rising glorious from the forest.

"My birthday present," he hissed, and smoke curled from between his teeth. "It's mine. My own."

He was eighteen today, a grown man, and his first fortress--the first of many he would command--shone below. Obsidian tiles covered its limestone foundations, reflecting the winter sun. Its four corner towers rose like skulls upon scraggly necks, their tops snowy. Their banners flapped in the wind, hiding and revealing the red spiral, sigil of his house. A fifth tower rose above the grand hall, twice as tall as the others. Upon it ticked a great clock, its four dials as large as dragons, the hands shaped as blades.

"Castra Luna," whispered the red dragon. "The oldest standing fortress in Requiem. My birthright."

As he flew over the forest toward the castle, Leresy Cadigus, prince of the empire, grinned and breathed his fire.

The forest streamed below him, pines and oaks bending under the flap of his wings. When Leresy drew closer to the fort, he saw hundreds of soldiers in the courtyard, mere scurrying ants from here. He narrowed his eyes and found himself salivating.

Yes, he thought. Yes, lots of new recruits here--young, afraid, and female. He licked drool off his maw. So much flesh to claim. So much to taste, to savor, to conquer.

Some in the capital had wondered, Leresy knew, why he had demanded Castra Luna for his birthday gift. His older sister Shari had scoffed.

"You could have any fort in Nova Vita!" she had said. "You could command knights, seasoned warriors, and garrisons of legend. And you choose... a training outpost halfway across the empire?"

She had laughed, and Leresy had only stood before her, silent, a small smile on his lips. So little she understood. So little she knew of what lurked here in Castra Luna, this distant southern pile of stone.

Here lurked real power, more than Shari could imagine in her small, petty mind, the mind of a warrior.

"You think like a fighter," Leresy whispered into the wind. "Like a brute. Like the mindless killer that you are. But I want more than the glory of war, dearest sister. When I am done here, I will have such power that you will kneel before me."

Flames exploded within him. He clenched his jaw and blasted fire skyward. Shari thought herself so mighty, so proud, so powerful. As Leresy circled above the fortress, he roared his rage, a shriek that could tear through human eardrums.

You might be heir to the empire, Shari, but soon even you will quake before me.

He now flew directly over Castra Luna, the ancient fortress that had been guarding southern Requiem for seven hundred years. He dived toward the courtyard and flew so low the soldiers below--fresh meat just carted in from the backwaters--had to duck. With a grin and howl, Leresy blasted fire across the courtyard, then soared again. His wings stirred dust below, and he shrieked to the sun.

He rose high above the courtyard and blew fire. He had seen enough of the soldiers below to whet his appetite. Half were frightened, pale farm boys no older than himself--fools for him to crush under his heel. The rest were ripe females, and Leresy snorted and grinned and felt his pulse quicken.

I will savor them, he thought. This fort is mine, and they are mine. I own these bricks, and I own this flesh.

He flew toward the command tower, the tallest among them, a great spire of obsidian. It rose hundreds of feet tall, flaring into a capital like a flanged mace. Its clock ticked upon it, a masterwork of black and red gears that clanged the noon hour as Leresy approached.