Shadow Over Ashvale.

~ Nerrissa ~

"Fetch the spiced wine, girl, and stop staring like a brainless farm animal!"

My stepmother’s hand struck the side of my face with a dull, wet crack. The force didn't knock me down, but it sent a sharp, stinging fire across my cheekbone. My vision swam with dark spots. I stumbled against the edge of the long oak serving table, my hip slamming hard against the carved wood, but I managed to keep my footing.

"I am moving, Stepmother," I said softly.

I didn't reach up to touch my face. I didn't cry. I kept my chin level, my blue-gray eyes fixed on the silver serving pitcher resting on the sideboard. My heart hammered against my ribs, heavy and panicked, but I kept my face entirely smooth. Experience had taught me that a single tear would only draw Elspeth’s laughter, and a single complaint would bring my stepmother’s hand down again.

The Great Hall of Ashvale Manor was absolute chaos.

Normally, the hall smelled of dry woodsmoke, roasted turnips, and wet dog fur. Today, it smelled of iron, sweat, and cheap tallow candles. The heavy oak tables had been dragged across the floor, their thick legs scraping white gouges into the stone flags to form a messy barricade against the iron-studded doors.

Village elders sat huddled on the wooden benches, their wool cloaks wrapped tight around their shivering shoulders. Lord Vane, the master of Ashvale, stood near the massive stone hearth. His face was gray, covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat that caught the orange firelight. His hands trembled so violently he could barely hold his parchment maps flat against the mantelpiece.

"Where are the rest of the perimeter guards?" Lord Vane shouted, his voice cracking like a dry twig. He turned to his captain, a large man whose leather armor was soaked through with the dark, blood-red rain. "Why haven't they reported from the watchtowers?"

"They can't report, my Lord," the captain rasped, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "The sky... it just dropped. The horses in the lower stables are breaking their own legs trying to jump the wooden fences. The air feels heavy, like... like breathing underwater."

I picked up the heavy silver pitcher, my thin wrists aching under the weight. I walked carefully across the Hall, taking short, measured steps so the wine wouldn't slosh over the rim.

As I passed the center bench, my step-sister Elspeth reached out her boot and kicked the hem of my damp skirt. I saw the movement out of the corner of my eye and adjusted my stride, stepping cleanly over her heel.

Elspeth clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Look at her," she hissed to the young noble sitting beside her. "Walking around like a ghost while the realm burns. She probably brought this curse upon us with her disgusting silver hair. My mother should have thrown her into the river the day her mother died."

The young noble didn't laugh. He was too busy staring at the tall glass windows, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth clicked.

I ignored her, moving silently toward Lord Vane to pour his cup. Beneath my linen dress, my collarbone was burning. It was a deep, thrumming heat that felt like a hot coin pressed flat against my flesh. The dragon-shaped birthmark was reacting to something outside—something huge and terrible that was sweeping down from the clouds.

*They aren't here to negotiate,* I thought, watching the way Lord Vane’s fingers twitched over his map. I looked at the dark ink showing our borders, then at the terrified men sitting around the fire. *Look at them. They are powerful men with swords and armor, but they are already defeated. They are looking for someone to blame, someone to trade, someone to throw into the fire so they can live.*

My sharp intuition told me exactly how this night would end if the sky-creatures broke through the gates. Lord Vane would not fight. He would offer whatever he had to buy his own life.

Suddenly, the heavy iron-studded doors of the Great Hall rattled.

It wasn't a knock. It was a single, massive blow that made the thick oak planks bow inward. Dust exploded from the ceiling beams, raining down like white ash onto the panicked nobles below.

Women shrieked. Two elders tumbled off their benches, scrambling backward on their hands and knees toward the dark kitchen corridor. Lord Vane dropped his wine cup. The silver vessel clattered against the stone floor, spilling dark red liquid across his boots like a pool of fresh blood.

"Barricade!" Lord Vane screamed, his voice turning into a high, pathetic squeak. "Hold the door! Push the tables!"

Four guards rushed forward, pressing their leather-armored shoulders against the heavy oak wood. Their boots slipped in the spilled wine on the floor.

"Nerrissa!" my stepmother snarled, grabbing my shoulder from behind and shoving me roughly toward the front of the hall. "Go get more iron bars from the pantry! Move, you useless brat! Do something to earn your keep!"

The sharp shove sent me stumbling forward, right toward the shaking barricade. My weak knees gave out, and I fell hard onto my hands and knees in the cold spill of wine. The liquid soaked straight through my stockings, freezing and wet against my skin.

A sharp cough tore out of my throat. I pressed my hand against my mouth, feeling the hot, familiar metallic wetness leak through my fingers.

"Look at her!" Elspeth screamed from the safety of the hearth. "She's spilling her sick blood on the floor! Put her by the door! Maybe the monsters will eat her first and leave us alone!"

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, leaving a smear of dark crimson across my pale skin. I looked up at my stepmother, then at Elspeth. They were terrified, their faces twisted with a ugly, desperate cowardice that made them look smaller than the starving dogs in the yard.

I didn't curse them. I didn't yell. I simply pushed myself up onto my trembling legs, resting my small hand against the ice-cold stone pillar near the entrance.

"You don't need to push me, Stepmother," I said, my voice quiet, clear, and steady despite the blood on my lips. "If they come in, my blood will not save you. And neither will yours."

Lady Verna opened her mouth to snap back, her face turning dark purple with rage, but the words died in her throat.

A sound cut through the air.

It wasn't a battering ram. It wasn't the sound of chopping axes.

It was the sound of air being torn apart.

A massive, suffocating pressure slammed down from above the manor. The heavy glass windows along the high walls didn't just crack—they exploded inward, showering the Great Hall with thousands of razor-sharp crystal shards. The wind that rushed through the broken frames was hot, dry, and smelled entirely of ozone and scorched earth.

The candles flickered out instantly. The great hearth fire was blown backward into the chimney, leaving the room plunged into an eerie, dark twilight illuminated only by the strange red glow bleeding from the sky outside.

Above us, the roof tiles groaned.

Then, with a terrifying, splintering roar, the thick wooden rafters above the center of the hall snapped in two.

Massive stone blocks and wooden beams rained down into the room, smashing the heavy oak tables into kindling. Screams of pure horror echoed off the walls as the nobles scattered like panicked mice, diving under benches and throwing themselves into corners.

I didn't run. I couldn't. The sudden pressure in the room clamped down on my chest like an iron vise, forcing the air straight out of my lungs. I sank to my knees beside the stone pillar, my fingers gripping the rough granite as I looked up through the gaping hole in the roof.

The sun was completely gone.

Blocking out the sky, blocking out the mountains, blocking out the entire world, was a set of colossal, midnight-black wings.

They swept out for hundreds of feet, covered in dark, heavy scales that caught the dim red light of the sky like wet obsidian. The sheer size of the beast above us was impossible—a monster so massive that its shadow alone cast the entire Great Hall into absolute, pitch-black darkness.

Beneath my collarbone, my dragon mark didn't just burn.

It screamed. A wild, searing heat shot through my veins, making my blood sing a violent, terrifying song that I had never heard before.

High above the shattered roof, two massive, glowing eyes lit up in the dark. They were not red, nor orange. They were the color of melted, liquid gold, staring down into the ruined hall with a cold, absolute authority that made every heart in the room stop beating.

The Dragon King had descended.