로그인The Hall of Treyls was all light and reverence, the walls feigning life as Merenrys passed. She stood at the dais, a living goddess in gold and blue, her robes embroidered with burmese gold-thread embroidery and rare mulberry silk, that glowed in rhythm with her heartbeat.Moments later, Bemrylcad entered, still damp from his swim, his robe of white linen loose over his shoulders. Scrolls and ledgers filled his hands. The symbols of his post as Regyptre’s Chief Diplomat and Treasurer.He bowed low before his Merenrys, but his eyes, bright and knowing, did not stay lowered long.“My Queen,” he began, his voice deep and lyrical, with that irreverent ease only he could risk in her presence. “If I am not mistaken, Your Majesty has interrupted my moment of enlightenment in the pool.”Her sharp gaze, flicked to him. “Enlightenment? Is that what they call vanity these days?”He pressed a hand to his heart in mock agony, his absurdly handsome face twisted in an expression of exaggerated hurt
“Your Majesty, the southern merchants complain again,” said one of the bronze-scaled stewards, shifting nervously under Merenrys’s gaze. “They claim your tariffs are too high for trade across the Dunes of Maret.”Merenrys didn’t look up from the map glowing before her. “They said the same thing last moon. And the moon before that.”“Yes, my queen, but they...”“They’ll keep saying it,” she interrupted calmly, tracing one glowing rune over the parchment. The sigil flared. “And they’ll keep paying it. Raise the tariffs by another two percent.”A few gasps rustled around the court.“Raise them?” a scribe whispered, wide-eyed. “But that might....”Merenrys’s head lifted. “Do you doubt the will of your queen?”Silence fell instantly.“Let them grumble,” she said softly but with authority. “Gold still flows best through hands that fear losing it.”Then, almost as an afterthought, she turned to one of her guards. “And send for Bemrylcad Dox. I require his counsel.”The moment she said his na
Merenrys' hieroglyphs evolved with every battle, new symbols etching themselves into her skin. Some glowed red with flame, others black with smoke. The sun dimmed when she fought and the air trembled under her fury.Villages whispered her new name:The Scorching Rage of the Egyptian Desert.Standing behind the royal parapet, where the whole of Regyptre sprawled endlessly beneath her gaze, she remained haunted by the voices that had long since drowned out her husband’s promises.“Not enough.”The voice hissed inside her skull, sibilant and ancient."Not enough blood has been spilled for my revenge.”Merenrys lifted her gaze toward the horizon. “You said that three hundred years ago,” she whispered, her tone mocking. “And still, they come, like my history didn't exist, like nothing ever happened...”The hieroglyphs along her skin pulsed in answer, whispering in the language of the ancients.Merenrys.Burn who defies you.Her laugh came low and bitter. “As if I ever stopped.”“Do you stil
"I will burn them all" Merenrys' raspy cold voce filled the air in despair, her eyes shuttering closed, the action deliberate as she retreated into her own thoughts.The hieroglyphs along her arms, once glowing with the steady rhythm of peace, now flickered violently, as if its ancient language could no longer contain the storm inside her.They whispered to her, the voices of her ancestors, hissing through her blood with hatred.Her heart no longer at peace.Rise, Merenrys.Burn what perturbs you.She lifted her gaze to the horizon. Remembering the first few weeks after the accident centuries ago, her people had knelt behind her in mourning for months after.They had called to her, begging her to rest, to eat, to live.She had only whispered, “Not yet.”Because she could still hear them. The echo of Adrewine’s laughter, the hiss of her voice in the dark.She replayed every moment in her mind: the soft hand on her knee, the childish giggle, the tiny tusks glinting when she smiled. How
Then Merenrys rose.Her form unfurled into to its true shape, vast and terrible. Her scales caught the dim light and turned it into glimpse of ocean fire: teal and gold, gleaming like sunlit waves, smoothened across her entire dragon body. Along her neck and crown, her scales flowed upward into the semblance of a Nemes headdress, each ridge and fold glittering with embedded gemstones that pulsed like living stars. The gems were not adornment. They were arteries of her power, glowing brighter with every beat of her wrathful heart.Her wings spread wide. Vast fans of gold veined with teal, their surface shimmered with engraved hieroglyphics, alive and shifting, telling stories danger and power. Between the metallic membrane of her wings ran threads of electrum and crushed lapis.Her dragon eyes burned a mixture green and pink, glazed with grief so intense, that the eyes of any mortal who had seen it would have melted in a puddle. When she opened her mouth, her voice was thundered inhuma
Next, she saw her second son climb higher also. Agony in his demeanor as fire wreathed from his throat, spiraling outward in storms of destructive light that consumed everything in its path.He tore through the sky like vengeance made flesh. Every beat of his wings sent shockwaves across the desert. He struck one dragon from the heavens, then another, his claws wreathed in solar fire. Scales melted beneath his talons; their shrieks broke like glass across the wind.Still they came.Dozens of them. Shadow dragons given form, their scales dull and slick with darkness, their eyes burning with the mark of Vraeleth’s corruption. They circled him like flies, their wings blotting out the sun. But he surged upward, breaking through their ranks, light trailing from him like a comet’s tail.He kept attacking the dragons fatally, until the air began to twist.Something ancient stirred above him, unseen but suffocating. The sky itself seemed to warp. His flames faltered as the light dimmed, shado







