Iris felt her heart sink and she lifted Helion. Arylos really wasn’t joking when he said no more camps. Bellona readied her sword and opened her shield.

More of the man-dragon hybrids came down from the mountain, almost a hundred in number. The massive wyvern then landed on the mountain side, surrounded by the army of soldiers. Under the moonlight, its scales were blacker than the darkest night and adorned with horns and spiralling spikes along the body and two large and taloned wings with bright red veins and spines along the length of the wings. The dragon regarded the group with burning purple eyes and a growl that shook the ground.

The dragon opened its maw and a bellowing voice sounded from its throat. “And so I greet the Lord, welcoming the embrace of death so that I may fly higher.”

“Oldalthur,” Arylos cursed under his breath. “Had enough of hiding?”

The dragon gave a snarling laughter. “I must, if I wish to reclaim what is mine.”

“This is Oldalthur?” Bellona asked.

Arylos nodded. “A Reig from the Dragon Wars. All of these soldiers are enthralled to him.”

“They’re being controlled?” Iris cut in. “Could we save them?”

Arylos shook his head. “Not these ones. They are born Reig, a way of corrupting the masses during the war; Kalndahvok’s design of pitting the Kaiyumae against themselves.”

“And I shall continue what he started,” Oldalthur responded. “Such is the fate of those less evolved.”

Arylos drew his sword and bit back anger. “You are the one who is less evolved, Reig.”

Oldalthur roared, offended by the insult. “You cannot look down upon us for it was you who made us!”

Arylos closed his eyes. “Yes, creatures born of stone and fire. Of darkness and death. Yet you are blind in that darkness; you are devolving, Oldalthur. Because of that, I cannot allow you to live.”

Oldalthur inhaled and spoke words unintelligible to the group as an incredible force of unseen power erupted from his maw; like the wind itself turned against them. Bellona and Iris were knocked to their knees but Arylos stood tall, as if resisting the incredible force.

Arylos raised his hand and the air hummed with power. “And like your brethren and your father before you, I will cut you down like the animals you are.”

Oldalthur raised his wings and shouted in a booming voice, speaking words unknown to Iris but known to Arylos. “Volrex! Kaln heyt dih’he! Fiin jun dor zum!”

Prepare for battle, Helion told Iris. He just ordered his men to attack!

As one, the hybrid soldiers ran towards the group and Iris and Bellona readied themselves as Arylos ran towards Oldalthur, blazing sword in hand and anger in his eyes.

Iris drew on all of her inner strength and white flames began to grow from her body. She was starting to get control. As the hybrid warriors ran towards her, she moved faster than ever, her every thought seeming to be faster and time around her slower, allowing her more time to perceive and predict.

This is it! she thought to herself. This is that divine power.

The flames grew hotter and brighter as she continued her assault, a part of her enjoying the slaughter as the sounds of the soldiers dying was accompanied by her laughter. If she had this strength, Nageki wouldn’t have fallen. If she had this strength, her parents would still be alive.

But if her parents were still alive, she wouldn’t have this strength.

If Nageki had not fallen, she would not have met and travelled with Arylos.

The flames burned hotter now, fury feeding them until they were hot enough that the air around her was hot enough to sear the skin of the soldiers from the heat radiating from her. Two soldiers rushed towards her, one striking from below and the other from above. Before they could land, Iris watched as her vision distorted as if everything was shrouded by darkness yet the outlines of the soldiers shone bright as sunlight and their movements frozen in place, as if time itself had frozen yet she could still move freely. She ran forward to meet the soldiers and cut through them with her burning flames and watched as blood seeped from their wounds like tree sap.

Iris continued her assault through the frozen soldiers, cutting head from neck, hand from wrist, and wing from back. Hacking away at these terrifying hybrids locked in place as if she was cutting down stalks of grain. She turned to the group she had just cut through and watched as her vision returned to normal with the sound of a thunderclap and the soldiers fell to the ground in the dismembered piles of broken men she turned them into. Through them, the ground itself burned as if she sprinted through and set fire to the surrounding area.

She laughed. She delighted. She then felt more blades approach her neck, as if the soldiers were ignorant to what happened. She turned to the newcomers and felt time freeze for her yet again, watching as her vision revealed the soldiers in their glistening and brilliant outline; bright and white like her own flames. She readied her sword and danced through the frozen soldiers, turning those white outlines crimson with blood as she cleaved limbs and tore muscle.

She completed her attack as she stood a good distance away from where she started. The sound of thunder returned as time resumed and the soldiers fell down in heaps, screaming from their wounds and painting the ground red as the smell of copper filled the air.

Iris turned to more oncoming soldiers and her vision went dark and the silver outlines returned, this time with the soldiers still able to move but their movements clear as if she saw them in perfect daylight amidst the dark of night. As if guided by some divine hand, she cut through the hordes of soldiers using power she could barely comprehend, cutting cleanly as if their armour did little to resist. Her eyes always found locked on a weak point; a gap in armour, exposed flesh between scales, an overextended limb. She could always lock onto it and cut through it without hesitation.

One last fool ran towards her and she ran through his neck with her sword, blood gurgling from his neck as he grasped at the blade, desperate to breathe. She closed her heart to it and in a single motion, withdrew her blade and decapitated the soldier, falling to the ground silent.

Iris looked back to her work, the piles of corpses in an ocean of blood that she could see as clearly as she was seeing it in daylight. It was dark, horrifying, evil. She had become Arylos, leaving a wake of torn corpses where she walked. She felt the fury in her veins swell with the power, her flames pulsating with her heartbeat.

Just what kind of power is this? Could Nageki have survived if she possessed it? How did her father die if he had this power as well?

Is this what it’s like to be a Templarian?

But then a sudden pain in the back of her head and Iris felt a darkness filling her mind.

Arylos launched himself towards Oldalthur, burning hatred in his eyes and soul and breaking the ground as his sword came down but missed Oldalthur and struck the ground. The dragon had moved backwards and brought his taloned wing down on Arylos but he rolled out of the way.

Iris was right, Arylos thought to himself, his goal was to weaken us. I should have known better than to use so much of my strength.

He could only ever channel his full power into that body for a few minutes, and now after consecutive uses, he wasn’t sure if the strength was still in him or if the body could survive. If his body fails, it’s all over; he will have to spend another hundreds or thousands of years looking for a new body. He will be free from the stifling body, but at that point, it will be too late.

Oldalthur began flapping his wings to take flight but Arylos sliced the skin on his left wing, spilling fresh blood on the ground.

Arylos needed to weaken Oldalthur and keep him on the ground where he could reach him and reserve his strength until absolutely needed. The souls of the soldiers he absorbed earlier gave him a little more strength, but it would not be enough. Realistically, he should be feeding on the other soldiers, but he is the only one who can fight Oldalthur so he needs to keep the dragon’s focus on him.

Not too far away, Arylos heard a loud blast of thunder; a deafening blow that resonated through his chest that carried the heat of fire. He knew this sound. He knew it all too well. A sound of thunder he had only heard once before a great many years ago. He wanted to know what was going on, but he needed to focus.

Arylos lifted his sword high as the flames circled around the blade faster, taking the shape of ever-changing runes and circles as the air hummed. He then sliced through the air with the sword and the flames erupted into an explosion-bearing shockwave that struck the dragon, setting him ablaze and knocking him backwards as the deafening blast shook the ground itself.

Without break, Arylos plunged his sword into the ground and howled as red and black flames erupted from his body and flowed into the ground through his sword. A moment later as the Reig was nearly recovering from the initial strike, the ground exploded into a blast of dark flames that bathed the screaming dragon as the flames carried the sound of screams with them.

Suddenly, a brief flash of white light filled the dark woods followed by the sound of a thundercrash. Nostalgia came to Arylos once more, recognising this sensation for what it truly is. He turned to try to look, but left an opening.

Oldalthur spoke unintelligible words and a blade of pure black energy hurled toward Arylos, to which the Titan caught the blade in his hand and crushed it, reverting it back into the energy it spawned from. Arylos ran towards the creature and readied his fist as he struck the dragon’s jaw with a punch that shook the ground and stunned the creature.

The dragon howled and took a breath. When he exhaled, spears of ice erupted from his mouth, hurling towards Arylos at near sonic speeds. Arylos fended off as many of the icicles as he could and narrowly dodged the others. Arylos needed to focus and trust that Iris will be okay.

Arylos reached out his hand and the air hummed as a large boulder began to float. He motioned with his hand and the boulder struck Oldalthur in the head, sending him backwards with a howl. Arylos then jumped onto Oldalthur’s back and began running up to his wings, Oldalthur trying to shake him off all the while.

Arylos climbed up to Oldalthur’s shoulders and sank his sword deep into the joint between shoulder and wing. Oldalthur howled a mighty scream as Arylos popped the joint out of place and began running up towards the dragon’s head. Arylos finally climbed further up and sank his sword deep into one of Oldalthur’s eyes and the dragon howled as the flames burned away at his flesh including inside his skull. The sudden lurching motion knocked Arylos off balance and he fell to the ground, knocking the wind out of him as he landed on his back with a loud and disgusting crack.

“Ugh, there goes my back,” Arylos groned, feeling his split in two, maybe even three places. All he could do was watch as Oldalthur backed away screaming, clawing at the burning sword still lodged in his eye socket and unable to remove it. With a howl, he took flight, his broken wing barely able to keep him airborne as he jumped along his climb up the mountain.

As Oldalthur left, he heard silence pass over the clearing. The other soldiers must have run away or had been killed. Arylos sighed, silently wishing at least one was left so he could feed on them to regain his strength, but no matter.

“Hey!” he called out to the ladies, “how are you two looking?”

“I’m good,” Bellona’s exasperated voice returned.

“Iris?” Arylos called out, feeling his spine start to reconnect. “What about you?”

Only silence returned Arylos’s inquiries. Arylos felt his heart race; why was she not answering? Did something happen? Arylos called out for her again, his spine nearly intact and just a moment longer and he’ll be able to walk again.

Crack.

Arylos felt the bones reconnect and he could feel his body again. He quickly jumped up to his feet and looked around, trying to find Iris. He saw that Bellona, while worn out, was still on her feet and calling after Iris as well.

No matter where Arylos looked, he could not find Iris. No body, no sign of her, he couldn’t even sense her. She was gone.

“Arylos, look at this,” Bellona called out from outside his vision.

Arylos looked and saw Bellona standing over a sword. When Arylos approached it, he found it wasn’t just any sword; it was Helion caked in blood. Iris was nowhere to be found. He knelt down and picked up the sword and it roared to life.

Father, Helion’s voice called out to him. I’m so sorry. I tried what I could but she was caught off guard.

“What happened?” Arylos asked the sword aloud.

She was caught unaware, Helion told him. She was struck in the back of her head and couldn’t recover. They took her up the mountain.

Arylos felt the anger in his body build, the fires now kindled and a raging inferno building. A faint red and black glow surrounded him as the air hummed. Bellona couldn’t hear what Helion told him, but she looked at Arylos’s glowing red eyes and knew what he was told.

A larger group of soldiers approached the two, weapons ready and howling battle cries. Arylos rose to his feet and rested Helion on his shoulders as he eyed the newcomers, the blue light of the sword now glowing red and black flames coming from the blade.

“Come Bellona,” he instructed with a twisted smile, “the night is still so young.”