Chapter 38: The Weight of Marching Death

  The sky sagged low and gray, like a corpse’s eyelids, promising neither sun nor mercy. The army—if it could still be called that—dragged itself forward, boots sinking into the wet, lifeless dirt of the valley. One hundred and twelve souls remained. Some limped, some bled, all bore the look of men and women who had seen too much of the abyss and found themselves still walking toward it.

  Kael walked near the front, his breath fogging in the cold air. Beside him, Lyanna carried the dragon egg, its obsidian shell pulsing faintly against her chest. He could see the exhaustion in the set of her jaw, the way her arms curled protectively around it. The thing weighed nearly as much as a newborn child, but she never once loosened her grip. It was more than just a hatchling. It was hope, and hope was a rare thing in a world that reeked of rot.

  The cart groaned as it was pulled over uneven terrain. The dead weight of supplies, weapons, and the few corpses they could not bear to leave behind made each step a misery. They took turns pulling it, their hands blistered and raw. When Kael’s turn came, he leaned into the task, muscles aching. Titanis padded alongside him, his claws sinking deep into the mud with each step.

  The dragon was no longer a creature that could coil around Kael’s shoulders like he had when he first hatched. Back then, he had been no larger than a pup, all awkward limbs and bright, flickering curiosity. Now, he was as big as the cart itself, his scales hardened to the color of storm-lit steel, his wings folded tightly against his back. When he walked, his long tail carved trenches in the earth.

  You think too much. The thought slithered into Kael’s mind, Titanis’s voice clearer than it had ever been. Before, the dragon could only send fragmented images, rough impressions—now, the words settled like a whisper in his skull.

  Kael glanced at him. And you don’t think enough.

  Titanis bared his fangs in something like amusement. Thinking is for the dying. We are not dying yet.

  Kael snorted. Could have fooled me. His shoulders ached, and his hands were numb. The cold was getting worse, seeping through armor and skin alike.

  Titanis’s mind brushed his again, a shadowed presence at the edge of his thoughts. You still regret that I can no longer rest on your shoulders.

  Kael hesitated before answering. Aye. He wouldn’t lie, not to Titanis. He missed the warmth, the constant presence. Now, the dragon walked beside him, a force of nature rather than a familiar weight.

  Titanis made a low, pleased noise in his throat. I miss it too.

  The words carried something else—something deeper. Kael could almost feel it, an emotion Titanis wasn’t sure how to name. Not sadness, not quite. A knowing. That things would never go back to how they were.

  Kael adjusted his grip on the cart’s handles, ignoring the sharp sting in his fingers. His breath came out in uneven puffs, the cold gnawing at his bones. Beside him, Titanis moved with the predatory grace of a creature built for war, his scaled body casting a long shadow over the muddy path.

  You look pathetic, the dragon’s voice slithered into Kael’s mind, dry as old parchment. Like a broken mule, dragging its last load before it keels over.

  Kael let out a breathless chuckle. At least I’m useful. You, on the other hand, are just stomping around looking impressive.

  Titanis snorted, sending a puff of warm air into the frigid wind. Looking impressive is my job. You think morale would survive if I started pulling carts like some common beast?

  Maybe. Would be good for your ego, Kael shot back.

  Titanis narrowed his molten eyes. My ego is fine, thank you. Unlike your arms, which look moments away from snapping like twigs.

  Kael gritted his teeth and kept pulling. Say that when you have to hold a sword and pull this damn thing at the same time.

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  Titanis padded closer, his massive form towering over Kael. I don’t need a sword. I have teeth the size of your fingers and a mouth that breathes death. But by all means, keep straining yourself like an old man hauling firewood.

  Kael grumbled under his breath. I liked you better when you only spoke in pictures.

  Titanis let out a low, rumbling laugh. You mean when I was small enough to sleep on your shoulders like a pampered kitten?

  Kael smirked, shifting his grip. Something like that.

  Titanis made a deep, amused sound. You’d break under my weight now.

  Wouldn’t be the first thing to break these days, Kael muttered.

  Titanis nudged him with his snout—hard enough to make him stumble. You’re not broken yet.

  Kael exhaled and gave the dragon a sideways glance. No. Not yet.

  Kael let out a slow breath, forcing his fingers to unclench from the cart’s handle. His muscles ached, his bones felt like splintered wood beneath his skin, and his patience was fraying at the edges. The banter with Titanis had helped, but only for a moment. The weight of the road ahead pressed against his mind like a dull knife, ever-present, ever-cutting.

  He exhaled sharply. Sorry.

  Titanis tilted his great head, molten eyes narrowing. For what? Being a miserable bastard?

  Kael huffed a tired laugh. Something like that. He ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, shaking his head. This march to Greenhaven’s got my nerves on end.

  Titanis was quiet for a moment, his clawed feet pressing deep into the mud beside Kael. You don’t want to see it again. It wasn’t a question.

  Kael swallowed hard. No. I don’t.

  The memories clawed their way forward, unbidden—his mother’s voice, warm and steady as she taught him to track deer in the thick woods; his father’s shadow, looming as he corrected Kael’s stance with a hard, calloused grip; Aria’s laughter, bright as sunlight breaking through the trees.

  And then—ashes. Ruin. Blood soaking into the dirt as he stumbled through what was left of his home. The twisted remains of bodies, unrecognizable in the aftermath of the beast tide.

  Kael clenched his jaw. I hated that place. I hated the people. And yet, I still feel like I left something behind in the wreckage.

  Titanis made a low, thoughtful sound. You think going back will change that?

  Kael let out a bitter breath. I don’t know.

  Titanis padded closer, his massive body radiating warmth against the chill in the air. I do.

  Kael glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. Oh? And what’s your wise, draconic insight?

  Titanis huffed. That you will return again, look upon the ruins again, and feel nothing but the same old weight pressing down on your ribs. Because that’s what you do, Kael. You carry things that should have been left to rot.

  Kael tensed. And what would you have me do? Forget them? Forget my mother, my sister, my father?

  Titanis met his gaze, unblinking. No. But stop trying to bleed for ghosts.

  The words landed heavier than Kael expected. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His fingers curled into fists before he let out a slow breath, unclenching them.

  Easier said than done, he admitted.

  Titanis snorted, something like amusement in the sound. Most things are.

  The wind moaned through the valley, dragging with it the scent of damp earth and old blood. The army—what remained of it—marched on, their breath rising in wisps that vanished into the cold air.

  Titanis’s wings shifted slightly, a restless movement. Then, his voice curled into Kael’s thoughts, deep and certain. At least we will kill them.

  Kael exhaled slowly. Who?

  The ones still left behind. The ones who made this world into a grave. Titanis’s molten eyes flickered with something fierce, something unyielding. If nothing else, we will give the dead their revenge.

  Kael nodded, gripping the cart’s handles a little tighter. “Aye. That, at least, we can do.”

  A figure approached through the murk—Alric, his dark hair damp from the mist, his ever-present smirk softened by exhaustion. Beside him, an older woman walked with steady steps.

  She reached up, cupping Alric’s cheek with a calloused hand. “Worst she can say is no, boy.”

  Alric stiffened, then let out a breath, his ears tinged red. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow. “Something I should know about?”

  Alric scowled, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”

  Titanis, watching with keen interest, turned his head toward Kael. Ask him who she is.

  Kael smirked. Why?

  Because he is embarrassed, Titanis said, eyes gleaming. And I am bored.

  Kael shrugged. “So, Alric,” he drawled, “who’s the lucky girl?”

  Alric pointedly looked away, studying the muddy horizon as if it held the secrets of the gods. “Not a word, Kael.”

  Titanis let out a huff. Coward.

  Kael chuckled under his breath. “Fine, fine.”

  Alric shot him a sideways glance, his smirk returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What’s got you looking like a man at his own funeral?”

  Kael groaned. “Not you too.”

  Alric raised an eyebrow. “Too?”

  Titanis let out a low, smug rumble. I already told him he broods too much.

  Kael sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yes, yes. You’re both terribly insightful. And yes, it’s Greenhaven.”

  Alric’s expression shifted, the humor dimming. “Right.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I won’t tell you how to feel about it. But whatever you’re looking for there… just don’t let it bury you.”

  Kael exhaled, his grip loosening slightly. “I’ll try.”

  Titanis huffed. Try harder.

  Kael shook his head, but his lips twitched. The road was long, the weight heavy—but at least, for now, he wasn’t carrying it alone.