=92nd Year of the Eighth Era= 7 hours from Vi'nto

As dawn crept over the valley, its light spilling across the rugged terrain, Ray’vera’s voice boomed out with a commanding tone into the tent where they were sleeping, jolting Laphisto and the others awake.

“All right, Up and moving! We’ve got daylight, and we’ve got ground to cover.”

With disciplined precision, the element rose to their feet, each dragon quickly gathering their belongings, extinguishing the last embers of the night’s fires, and preparing to join the battalion’s march. Nearly six hundred dragons formed long, weaving lines, their scales catching the morning light in shades of green, blue, gold, and red. The surrounding valley was vast and wild, stretching endlessly with sloping hills, clusters of trees, and a river winding its way through the rocks far below. Golden grasses swayed in the early light, and low, jagged outcroppings of stone jutted from the earth, adding texture to the landscape as the valley dipped and rose in undulating waves.

Laphisto took in the scene, captivated by the sight of so many dragons readying themselves. Even though they had wings, flying was out of the question. A single dragon could be seen from miles away, and with six hundred in the air, they’d be a blazing signal to any Lycan scouts. This, he reminded himself, was why flying was reserved for emergencies. Most of the younger recruits, though perhaps a little impatient, followed the command without complaint.

Falling into formation, Laphisto found himself glancing over the vast, winding line of dragons marching alongside him. Without realizing it, he caught himself looking through the ranks, scanning for a familiar flash of red scales. A nudge from the side interrupted his search, and he turned to see Nes’ver grinning at him with a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Looking for someone, maybe?” Nes'ver teased, his voice carrying a lightness that softened the seriousness of the morning.

Laphisto shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just making sure everyone’s where they’re supposed to be.”

“Right,” Nes'ver chuckled, widening his grin. “Must be tough, keeping an eye on a certain fire dragon through all this dust.”

Laphisto shook his head, but the corners of his mouth twitched with a smile he couldn’t quite hide. Before he could come up with a response, I’gra, who had been walking just ahead of them, cast a smirk over her shoulder.

“Let him be, Nes'ver,” she said, adjusting the pack strapped across her back. “You’re just jealous he’s got a reason to be distracted.”

“Jealous? Me?” Nes'ver scoffed, lifting his head in mock offense. “Please. I’m perfectly focused on the task at hand. Unlike some people…”

Laphisto chuckled under his breath, giving Nes'ver a light shove with his wing. “Focused on what, exactly? Daydreaming about how nice it’d be to fly over all this instead?”

Nes'ver shrugged, his eyes drifting to the open sky. “Can you blame me? We could be across this valley in minutes if we just took to the air.”

“Maybe,” Laphisto replied, “but we’d be spotted in no time.”

As the battalion wound through the valley, the landscape grew more detailed, and the early sun climbed higher, casting long, low shadows over the ground. Patches of wildflowers dotted the path in pale blue and purple clusters, while the golden grasses grew tall and thick around the rocks, sometimes hiding them entirely. The valley walls, though distant, seemed to close in on either side, making the dragons feel as though they were passing through a guarded corridor. A faint breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the earthy scent of damp soil and the murmur of the distant river threading its way through the rocks.

I’gra,, cast a glance toward the line stretching ahead. “Flying might sound nice, but the ground offers better cover,” she said. “Imagine seeing this from a Lycan scout’s perspective. They’re probably out there somewhere, watching the hills as we speak.”

“True,” Nes'ver replied with a mock sigh, though his eyes still held a glint of humor. “But can’t a dragon dream?”

“Keep your wings tucked in, dreamer,” I’gra replied, though there was a faint smile in her voice. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

After nearly five hours of steady marching, the battalion came to a sudden halt. Confused glances exchanged between dragons rippled down the line as the order to stop settled over them. Around Laphisto, wings shifted, claws tapped anxiously, and low murmurs of curiosity rose.

“What’s going on up there?” Nes’ver muttered, craning his neck to peer through the ranks.

Laphisto adjusted his grip on his sword, shrugging. “Hard to say. A break like this usually means more than a blocked path.”

I’gra, standing nearby, snorted. “I’d bet my armor this isn’t about a path. The scouts came back in a hurry. I don’t like it.”

Ray'vera and the other element leaders moved up to the front, where Bra'vas, a venerable fire dragon with weathered scales, stood waiting. As the element leaders gathered, their voices low and tense, the rest of the battalion held its breath.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Nes'ver murmured, his usual lightheartedness gone.

Laphisto glanced at him, noticing the furrow in Nes'ver’s brow. “Think it’s serious?” he asked, already sensing the weight of something larger.

“It’s got to be, with the way Bra’vas looks. He doesn’t get ruffled easily,” Nes'ver replied. “And we haven’t seen regrouping like this since we left Cha’ladu.”

Around them, the other dragons shared similar thoughts, quiet speculation moving like a wave through the ranks.

“Maybe it’s an enemy force,” a young recruit whispered with nervous excitement.

“Could be,” another replied, though with a hint of doubt. “But a full halt like this... I don’t know. Seems different.”

Laphisto’s mind ran through possibilities. He felt a thrill at the thought of real action, tempered by the reminder of the stakes. Skirmishes he could handle, but if they were about to engage a full enemy force…

Ray'vera returned with purpose in his stride, his expression hardened. He held their attention a moment, letting the silence settle before he spoke.

“Listen closely,” he began, his voice steady but somber. “Scouts have spotted a Lycan force to the northwest. A sizable one, likely moving toward the front lines. Bra’vas believes they’re trying to cut through Kiev'arian territory, maybe to open a path for reinforcements.”

A murmur of unease spread through the element. Ray'vera’s gaze swept over them, steady and reassuring.

“Bra’vas has ordered a detour,” he continued. “We’re intercepting them.”

The weight of his words settled over them. The dragons exchanged glances, some nodding, others drawing a steadying breath.

I’gra tightened the strap on her armor, glancing toward Nes'ver and Laphisto. “Well, I hope you two are ready for this. Doesn’t sound like another practice run.”

Nes'ver forced a grin, though a flicker of unease remained in his eyes. “I’m always ready. Just didn’t think we’d be in a full-on battle this soon.”

Laphisto remained quiet, feeling the tension build. “It’s what we trained for,” he said finally, voice steadier than he felt. “We knew this day would come.”

Nes'ver let out a slow breath, giving Laphisto a sidelong glance. “You’re right. Just thought we’d have a bit more time before… well, before we were really in it.”

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I’gra’s usual tough demeanor softened slightly. “It’s not something you’re ever truly ready for. But when it happens, you just go. Stick close, follow orders, and keep your wits about you.”

Ray'vera overheard and nodded in approval. “Well said, I’gra. Remember, none of you are here to prove anything. You’re here to stay alive and keep each other alive. That’s how we win.”

Laphisto met Ray'vera’s gaze, sensing the depth of his words. This wasn’t about individual glory—it was about something larger, something they could accomplish only together.

One of the younger dragons finally voiced the question on everyone’s mind. “Do you think the Lycans know we’re here?”

Ray'vera shook his head. “They might suspect something, but they’re not expecting us to strike so soon. We have the advantage of surprise. Let’s use it.”

Nes'ver attempted to lighten the mood, though his smile was tense. “See? They won’t know what hit them. A whole battalion of dragons is enough to make anyone think twice.”

Laphisto felt his pulse quicken. Along the mountainside, dragons crouched in silence, their eyes fixed on the valley below, waiting. The afternoon air hung heavy, every dragon poised to strike. Then, with Bra'vas’s signal—a powerful swing of his arm—the silence shattered.

“Charge!” The command tore through the air, and Laphisto surged forward, his heart pounding as the battalion dropped from their hidden heights, diving toward the unsuspecting Lycans below. The powerful sweep of wings and thunderous roar of dragon cries filled the air as they hurtled downward. Each dragon was a flash of color and armor, their gleaming weapons drawn, ready to clash. The Lycans below were unprepared, their forces scattered across the valley floor, unaware of the storm descending upon them.

Impact came like a crash of lightning. Dragons tore into the Lycan ranks, cleaving through their lines with brutal efficiency. Smaller Canine-Tye'ro scrambled to raise shields and spear points, trying desperately to form a defense. Larger Lycans, eyes wild, roared out orders as they frantically attempted to organize, their massive axes and hammers clashing with the dragons’ deadly weaponry.

Laphisto’s claws struck the ground, his blade slashing through a defensive line of Canine-Tye'ro. They seemed so small in comparison, yet he knew their threat well. These creatures had unleashed chaos across Kiev’ara, their ferocity overwhelming despite their size. As he tore through the ranks, a swell of focus and fury filled him; this was their chance to reclaim lost ground.

Drawing on his elemental power, Laphisto called upon the earth. Stone spikes erupted, ripping through Lycan armor, sending enemy bodies sprawling as the ground itself seemed to turn against them. Screams and howls reverberated across the valley as the Lycans struggled to regroup, their desperation palpable.

A guttural howl tore through the din, catching Laphisto’s attention. He turned, locking eyes with a massive Lycan standing a few paces away, its towering figure almost level with his own. Muscles rippled beneath its fur as it raised a brutal war axe, issuing a clear challenge. Despite Laphisto’s size advantage, he felt the raw strength radiating from the beast. The Lycans were no mere soldiers—they were brutes of muscle and bone, each one built for sheer destruction.

As the massive Lycan bore down on him, Laphisto barely had a moment to react. The beast’s fur was matted with sweat and blood, muscles rippling as it charged forward, each step pounding against the earth. He struggled to bring his sword up in time, parrying the heavy swing of the Lycan’s war axe. The raw force of the strike staggered him, his feet digging into the ground as he fought for balance. Gritting his teeth, he gathered his mana, sending a wave of stone spikes surging from the earth, forcing the beast to jump back and giving him a precious moment to reposition himself.

The Lycan recovered quickly, leaping high and swinging its axe down in a brutal arc. Laphisto barely managed to deflect the blade, but it clipped his left shoulder, scraping through his new armor and leaving a mark—a stark reminder of the relentless strength of his foe. Pain flared, but he forced himself to focus, adrenaline fueling his counterstrike. With a swift, controlled motion, he swung his sword in a broad arc, catching the Lycan across the torso. The beast faltered, then fell heavily to the ground, its body twisting in one last reflexive shudder before going still.

"Didn’t think you’d get a scratch on the new armor so soon,” Nes’ver called from a few feet away, a smirk crossing his face even as he deflected a pair of Canine-Tye'ro with a sweep of his spear, water swirling around him in defensive waves.

"Well, it’s not exactly a quiet day, Nes’ver!” Laphisto called back, glancing quickly at his shoulder. “How’s that armor holding up on your end?”

"Pristine," Nes’ver shot him a mock salute. “Just need a few more of these mutts to give me a real test.”

They exchanged quick grins, the brief moment of levity giving them a renewed sense of energy. But the break was short-lived as another Lycan lunged at Laphisto, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. This time, he was ready. He sidestepped, his blade flashing as he brought it down, slashing the creature across the jaw. Blood sprayed, and the beast dropped with a heavy thud, its final growl fading into a gurgle.

Glancing across the battlefield, Laphisto caught sight of Ray'vera and I'gra fighting in a seamless rhythm. Ray'vera loosed arrows with deadly precision, each one guided by subtle gusts of wind that sent them deep into the thick of the Lycan forces. Beside him, I'gra wielded her battle axe with raw power, her flames crackling around her weapon, each swing enhanced by a controlled burst of fire that kept the Lycans at bay.

"Think you two could try to keep up?” I'gra shouted, glancing over her shoulder at Laphisto and Nes'ver with a fierce grin. “We’ve already downed more of these beasts than the two of you combined!”

“Pretty sure I’ve got you beat, I'gra,” Nes'ver shot back, giving her a cheeky grin before sending a surge of water toward a charging Lycan, knocking it off its feet.

Laphisto rolled his eyes, grinning as he parried an incoming attack. “You’re all doing great. But maybe save the score-keeping until we’re all still standing, yeah?”

As they fought on, Laphisto’s focus narrowed, feeling the weight of his sword grow heavier with each swing, adrenaline pushing him beyond exhaustion. Ray'vera’s words from training echoed in his mind, a grounding reminder: Stay together. Keep focused. Stay alive.

In the thick of the fight, Laphisto almost missed the Lycan creeping up behind him. Elantrie’s warning shout came just in time, and he turned to see a wave of sharp earthen spikes erupting from the ground, tearing into the beast and sending it sprawling back, its body twisted and broken. Elantrie swayed slightly, breathing heavily, her scales noticeably duller as she struggled to maintain her composure.

“Elantrie, don’t push yourself!” Laphisto called out, his voice tinged with concern. “You were already drained before we started. Stick closer to Nes’ver—he’ll keep them off your back.”

She forced a smile, nodding. “I’m fine, just… just trying to keep you in one piece, Diva'tori.”

Nes'ver came up beside her, deflecting a Lycan with a swift swipe of his spear, water flowing in a defensive arc around them. “You heard him, Elantrie. Stick close, and leave the rough stuff to me.” He winked, sending a stream of water to push back an advancing group of Canine-Tye'ro.

“Just don’t let him talk you into any bets on your next fight,” Laphisto muttered, chuckling as he turned to intercept another Lycan. “He’s bad news with wagers.”

Elantrie laughed breathlessly, nodding. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The battle continued in brutal waves, and slowly, the tide began to turn. Laphisto felt the energy of the battalion rally as they drove the Lycans back, their foes battered and broken, leaving the battlefield littered with the fallen. The survivors among the Lycans pulled back, retreating into the hills with desperate, panicked glances behind them.

As the final echoes of battle faded, silence fell over the valley, broken only by the labored breathing of the dragons who remained. The ground was a scarred, blood-soaked testament to the fight they had endured, bodies of friend and foe alike strewn across the terrain. Laphisto lowered his sword, the weight of the moment pressing upon him.

Around him, the dragons began regrouping, their eyes hollow, glancing across the field with somber expressions. For many, this was their first true victory—but also their first encounter with the harsh, unflinching reality of war. The cheers were quiet, if they came at all, each dragon acutely aware of the cost they had paid for this stretch of bloodstained earth.

As silence blanketed the valley, the dragons began to pick their way through the aftermath. The ground was strewn with fallen bodies and the remnants of battle, the scent of dust and blood heavy in the air. Laphisto moved carefully through the haze, his eyes scanning the field, searching for any sign of Hazori.

His heartbeat thundered as he wove between clusters of dragons. He saw Nes’ver helping a wounded comrade to their feet, his usual lightheartedness replaced by quiet focus. Ray’vera and I’gra were tending to their gear, preparing to move out at a moment’s notice, their expressions mirroring the weight of the battlefield. But he didn’t spot the familiar gleam of Hazori’s fiery red scales.

He called her name, his voice barely rising above the muffled sounds of movement and low murmurs. Anxiety twisted in his chest until finally, he caught a flash of red ahead. Hazori was kneeling beside one of the fallen, checking for signs of life. She looked tired, but unharmed. Relief swept through him, and he exhaled, feeling the tension melt from his shoulders.

She looked up, catching his eye, and a small, weary smile crossed her face. “Good to see you’re still standing, Div’atori,” she said, her voice carrying a rough edge that hinted at the exhaustion they all felt.

“Same to you,” he replied, his own voice softer than usual. “For a moment there, I wasn’t sure…”

Hazori shrugged, glancing over her shoulder at the others gathering nearby. “We’re all worse for wear, but we’ve pulled through.” She cast a look around the valley, her gaze lingering on the dragons assisting the wounded and gathering in loose ranks.

In the background, Bra'vas’s voice rang out, sharp and steady, issuing commands to the scattered elements of the battalion. “We march within the hour. Tend to your injuries, gather your weapons, and prepare to move!”

Laphisto and Hazori exchanged a glance, both knowing the relentless pace that lay ahead. Around them, the dragons regrouped in silence, their faces a blend of fatigue and focus. Bra'vas continued pacing through the ranks, nodding to element leaders and ensuring everyone knew their orders.

Laphisto stole a glance at Hazori as they both moved toward their places in formation, a renewed sense of determination settling over him. The valley behind them bore the marks of a hard-fought victory, but as they prepared to march toward Vi’nto and the front line, he understood all too well that this was only the beginning. He could see it in the faces around him—the resolve, the exhaustion, and the quiet acceptance of what lay ahead.

The battalion gradually reformed, each dragon falling into place, scarred but unbroken. And as they began their march forward, Laphisto cast a final glance back at the battlefield, letting the weight of the moment sink in. They were leaving this valley behind, but he knew they’d carry the memories—and the scars—for the rest of the journey.