Go Time.

Layah

I sleep for exactly two hours. No more, no less. That’s all I allow myself after my watch shift ends and before Jordan gently shakes my shoulder to wake me. Sleep comes in short bursts these days, any longer and I start dreaming and in dreams, I see fire. I see wings. I hear screaming. So two hours is more than enough. We huddle around the makeshift table in the center of our hidden shelter, the cold mountain stone beneath us damp with condensation. I blink away the last dregs of sleep as I smooth out the worn, hand-drawn map in front of us. The edges are frayed and some lines are faded, but I know this layout by heart. I made it myself.

“One more time,” I murmur, my voice low but firm as I tap the map with my finger. “We enter through this cave entrance. The tunnel system should take us directly beneath Damicus’ home. Meanwhile, the rest of the group creates a diversion on the opposite side of the village.”

Jordan nods beside me, his face serious in the lantern light. I continue, tracing the route with a fingertip.

“They’ll light fires in these three locations, here, here, and here, to pull patrols away from the main house. When we hear the signal, we move. That hatch I marked, just beneath the kitchen should take us into the basement. From there, we spread out and locate Damicus' room. I don't know the exact layout upstairs, so we adapt once inside.”

Jordan’s mouth tightens into a line, his mind already racing through the possibilities. He’s good like that cool under pressure, sharp, loyal. “And if the wife or son get in the way?”

“I’ll handle them,” I say without hesitation. “You keep your eye on the prize. You take the kill.”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, but doesn’t argue. He knows this isn’t about revenge. It’s about justice. Afterward, we retreat through the same tunnel, signal the others, and regroup at the northern point on the ridge. If all goes to plan, we’re in and out before they even know what hit them.

“Piece of cake,” Jordan says with a tired smile.

I arch a brow. “Let’s hope so. But make sure everyone’s prepared for the worst-case scenario. We want minimal casualties. No heroes, no chaos.”

“Got it, Slayer. Let’s go wake the others.”

We move quickly, waking each member of the team with quiet efficiency. They’ve all been trained for this. Survivors turned soldiers, rebels turned warriors. Every one of us has lost something, family, homes, entire ways of life, to the dragons and their council. After a small breakfast of rabbit and root vegetables cooked over low heat, we review the plan again. Everyone listens in silence. No jokes. No nervous laughter. Just nods and a shared resolve. Jordan and I take the eastern path, moving in near-total silence through the dense forest, the night pressing in close. The others split off to prepare the diversion. We travel under cover of trees, blending into the shadows in our camo gear. Even our faces are painted in dark tones to erase the shine of skin in the moonlight. Every step is calculated. No snapping branches, no crushed leaves. We’ve all learned, sometimes the hard way how vital stealth is. How death can come from a single careless step.

Jordan nudges me, and I look up. The cave face looms ahead, half-hidden by moss-covered boulders and vines. We’ve arrived. This is it, the first real step in taking down Damicus Rommati. We crouch near the entrance, listening. Dragons are loud by nature, especially adult males. Their movements tend to shake the ground, their breathing heavy even when suppressed. But the night is still. Not a whisper of movement from within the cave or above us. Satisfied, I summon a small orb of pale blue light, cupping it in my hand like a firefly. It glows just enough to guide our steps through the winding tunnels without giving us away. We move in silence, winding left, right, then another left. Eventually, we hit a sharp incline, a staircase of uneven stone leading up toward the surface. I can’t help but think about what this passage was likely made for: a failsafe. A secret escape route for Damicus in case things ever went south. Today, though, it won’t be used for fleeing. Today, it’s the tunnel that delivers his death.

We stop at the top of the incline, standing just beneath the large wooden hatch in the ceiling. I check my weapons, daggers, throwing knives, my enchanted short sword, all tucked securely in their sheaths. Easily accessible. Ready. Then I listen. Still nothing. No heavy footsteps, no creaking floorboards. Dragons may be deadly, but subtlety has never been their strength. The faint trill of a magical bird-whistle reaches us through the tunnel. Our signal. It’s time.

Jordan climbs the ladder first, his movements slow and quiet as he pushes open the hatch with practiced precision. I’m right behind him, slipping into the dark, musty basement. It’s colder than I expected, stone walls and shelves of old supplies and barrels lining the space. We don’t stop. We move up the stairs, carefully pushing open the door that leads to the main house. A wide kitchen greets us, dark, polished, and sterile. Too clean. Too perfect. Jordan points to the right and disappears into the shadows. I go left, my dagger already drawn. The house is silent. Opulent. Every step I take echoes faintly off marble tiles and towering ceilings. I slip past the massive lounge, where gold-trimmed furniture sits untouched and a fireplace glows with dying embers. The front door looms near, but I pass it and head up the stairs, every sense alert. My heart pounds, but I keep my breathing slow and steady.

Upstairs, a hallway stretches in both directions. I begin checking rooms one by one. The first is a library, massive shelves, dragon-themed tapestries, and walls lined with ancient tomes. The second, a pristine bathroom. Third, an empty guest room. The fourth has signs of life, a messy bed, clothing scattered. A teenager’s room maybe. And then there's one door left. At the very end of the hall. I stop in front of it, placing a hand on the cold brass doorknob. My fingers tighten as I let out a long, silent breath. This is it. This could be Damicus’ room. This could be where it all ends, where everything changes. I turn the knob slowly, silently, and push the door open. My senses tingle. There’s someone inside but not just someone.

The air shifts. Something stirs in my chest, in my blood. A scent hits me, warmth and spice and something ancient. My breath catches. No. Not now. My heart slams against my ribs as I am pulled ubruptly into the room, dagger still tight in my grip.