Page 162 of Heimlock

The magyck around us builds, signalling the approach of what will be not a beginning, but an end. I let myself sink into the memories of hate, pain, fear, and terror. All of the tiny moments that lacerated my heart, chipping away at it until it was empty.

For the future he stole.

For the future I forged in spite of it.

I may never know who I’d be without what he did, but I know who I can be without him.

For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.

The horn blares. His words mean nothing at this point. Without hesitation, I slam into him, claws first, raking them down his belly. Fuck your sorries.

62

The two Dragons collide, releasing a crack like thunder. My eyesight isn’t nearly as good as the Dragons around us, so Fynn gives a play-by-play at first.

“Trinte’s struck first!” he says excitedly.

A hand flies to my mouth, cupping the quick, hot air trying to escape my lungs. Despite the frigid temps, sweat beads my forehead. The Dragons break apart, then clash together again like two boulders being slammed together by an exuberant child. Their necks intertwine; fire flares from one of their maws.

“Father’s,” Fynn says grimly.

Trinte’s tail whips, landing into the red Dragons flank. A pained roar echoes in the mountains. They tumble in a free fall with their talons locked, like hawks in an aerial dance.

Come on, come on, come on.

Arms tighten around me as the red Dragon clamps its jaws around Trinte’s throat. I scream into my palm, blinking away the tears to watch. The spiked tail lands again into the red flank and this time, they’re low enough to see blood fly in the air. Trinte’s throat’s released and I release a shaky exhale.

“Yes!” I hiss, heart screaming with terror and victory.

They fall at a dizzying pace, taking bites out of one another, wings flapping wildly. Jaws snap and claws pierce hide.

The Dragons break apart, hovering for a moment. Is it to catch their breath?

63

Blood pours from my throat, almost faster than my magyck can heal it. My tail’s coated in his, though. Good enough for me.

We broke away mutually to catch our breath. The ground isn’t too far away. Up to this point, I’ve been testing him; seeing what he knows. Unlike me, he doesn’t have an orbed eye that can at least fill in the relative blanks on one side of my body. He’s blind on the right side, making the perfect weakness. It’s like he was too pompous to get an orb, preferring for the world to view it as a wound.

And that’s his folly, because I’ve crafted my wounds into armor.

I’m sorry it’s come to this, he says, sounding tired. I never told you this, but my father did things to me, too.

I don’t care. The cycle ends with me.

This time, I take him by surprise by diving for his clubbed tail. When it’s between my fangs, I bank hard to the left; using every bit of power possible, I swing his body. Using the momentum, I clamp down on scales, muscle, and bone. When the centrifugal force slings him away, I hear the gratifying snap of his tail. Blood fills my mouth as his clubbed tail rips away, falling to the ground.

64

An ear-splitting roar has me pressing my hands to my ears. Joulian winces, doing the same. Fynn chuckles. At first, I don’t understand why until a large, red object slams into the snow.

Blood explodes against the snow, sizzling under the heat of Dragon blood. It’s their father’s red tail, its jagged flesh a beautiful sight.

“Fuck yes,” I whisper.

“Yeah, fuck yes,” Joulian repeats, thrusting a fist into the air. Orliana puts an admonishing hand on his shoulder, but says nothing else, too enthralled with the scene.

Trinte avoids his father’s mouth at his spine, doing a loop to end up behind the red Dragon. Before their father can react, Trinte lands on his back, allowing the spine spikes to pierce his belly.