Page 378 of Elemental Becoming

A thousand souls.

We continue sweeping wide across the battlefield, Xaroth and Calryx flying in tight formation, our path cutting a clean arc through the smoke-laced sky. The dragons who just took out the Gorganthe have returned to Xaroth’s side.

I’m still not sure where we’re headed, only that Thane is leading, and we are following.

He begins signaling. First to Rian—a firm hand gesture, two fingers angled back, then forward again in a hooked sweep.

Take two riders. Reinforce Garrick. Hold the skies.

Rian nods once and peels off without a word, two dragons veering with him as they adjust their elevation to rejoin the brutal fight above.

Next, Thane signals Jarek with a broader motion, his arm extending before sweeping downward.

Take the rest. Get to the ground. Support the Elite Guard. Reinforce the soldiers.

The remaining dragons in the formation begin to shift, banking lower as their speed increases for descent.

Finally, he signals Rowena. The gesture is smaller than the others, deliberate and precise.

Support the riders already stationed at this post.

Aisling arcs left, peeling away to reinforce the embattledremnants of the outpost’s assigned wing.

Darragh comes to mind, the young rider Thane trained himself. He had been assigned here and died before we arrived, taking his dragon down with him.

Thane isn’t just giving orders. He’s carrying ghosts.

Then Xaroth banks left in a deliberate sweep, the movement of a dragon who has fought through countless battles. Calryx follows, her wings adjusting mid-beat, her body tilting with effortless precision.

She isn’t reacting to Xaroth’s movements. She’s anticipating them. The two dragons move in perfect rhythm, each shift mirrored before it fully happens.

We fall in behind them, the wind slicing past us, carrying the scent of smoke, blood, and magics.

Below, the battlefield sprawls across the landscape, scarred earth and shattered stone littered with the cost of the fighting. The weight of what has already been lost settles heavily in my chest.

But we are not done.

Not yet.

The wind tears at us as we follow in tight formation, the battlefield opening wide beneath us—scarred earth, fractured stone, blood-soaked ground.

I glance down.

The Gorganthe is gone. Only a blackened crater remains, a scorched ring of ash and bone smoking gently where the firestorm swallowed it whole. Shattered stone still smolders around the edges. One of the realm’s greatest monsters has been reduced to nothing.

Then Thane’s voice cuts through the bond, hard and sharp.

“Amara. We are taking out the Commander. This entire Shadow Force army will fall when he falls.”

My heart plummets as understanding settles into place.

The Kethraki, the fog, and the Gorganthe were never the true threat. They were obstacles. Distractions. Everything the Commander had thrown in our path to keep us from reaching him. The Commander is the one who wielded all of it, and he’s still out there somewhere on this battlefield, hidden behind shadow and strategy.

Now there is only one objective: kill the Commander.

We are the blade.

It’s time to sever the head.