Zyryxa crouched in the forest, hiding from the dark shape circling the skies above. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They’d cut south long before reaching the Everice, long before they should have ventured from Gaeliz’s into Hatrox’s realm.

Yet, happened it did. Zyryxa remembered his eyes on her, taking her in, coveting her just over a year ago at her last tournament in the Frostmelt. She didn’t want those eyes claiming her again. Not until she had a dragon of her own to refute him with.

She clutched her mother’s axe, knowing it wouldn’t protect them here. Their best hope was that they ducked into the woods before being spotted. Zyryxa’s stomach churned with each passing rotation the dragon made. There was no hope in hiding. She didn’t know how long Coryza had gone unnoticed while they butchered the sabretooths out in the open tundra, but a dragon’s eyes wouldn’t have had any issue detecting movement from so far away.

Hatrox was inevitable. Better to go on with it than to remain in fear of it.

Natazia cried inside of a broken gelubor, her breathing frantic as she muttered, “Not him.” Lexyn and Pelzyq crouched near her, their hands intertwined, gazes toward the shadow in the sky. Beyond Natazia’s whines, the woods were silent enough to make one’s anxious thoughts loud. The mighty blue dragon that was nearly dark as night sky was as quiet as a shadow.

But not for long. The dragon let out a roar, sharpening its descent.

“No!” Natazia shrieked. “Get out of my head! Get out!”

“Qoryxa’s flaming eyes,” Zyryxa cursed. “The dragon’s telepathy,” she said to Lexyn and Pelzyq. “They’ve found her.”

“Natazia,” Lexyn said, a tear in her eye as she glanced toward their leader. She started toward Natazia, but Pelzyq seized her hand.

“No,” he said softly. “The best thing we can do for her is to face him in her stead.”

“I agree,” Zyryxa said. Natazia’s head right now would feel as if it were being split open by Coryza, while Hatrox’s thoughts crept into the tear like an infection. “I will meet him. The rest of you can stay here.”

“I’ve survived men like him before,” Pelzyq said. “I will face him with you.”

Zyryxa nodded, proud to call this man her brother.

“There are no men like him,” Natazia whimpered, clutching her head, lips twitching like she was a little girl that had just been slapped by her guardian. “Provoke him, Pelzyq, and you won’t survive.”

“Then I better go too,” Lexyn said, claiming Pelzyq’s wrist. “To make sure you behave.”

Pelzyq snorted. “I’ll behave.”

“I mean it,” Natazia said, her breath still coming too fast. “He will kill any man that inconveniences him, that gets between him and his chosen toy.”

Her renewed sobbing made it clear that Natazia knew that firsthand. She buried herself into the hollowed-out gelubor, curled up, and cried.

Zyryxa steadied her own breathing, aware of the trembling she couldn’t master. “We have orders from Vaztyma. He cannot change our course. Stay here, Natazia. We will be right back.”

Xilliax lingered behind with her rider, while Dryxl and Maxilla cowed within the forest. Only Zyrxl followed Zyryxa, Pelzyq, and Lexyn out of the gelubor as the dragon neared the ice. Zyryxa tried not to judge them as cowards for hiding, especially Natazia, but she knew that she’d never be able to look at herself if she ordered her subordinates to go someplace she couldn’t lead them. This man had made Natazia into nothing; Zyryxa swore to never let anyone hold such power over her, especially Hatrox.

Coryza’s wingbeat sent shockwaves of force onto the tundra. Up close, it was clear this creature was no smaller than Praedax and larger than Qorzillux had been. The second oldest ice dragon, and the darkest among them with the darkest history. Coryza’s riders had a reputation for being cold of heart and dark of deed. Yet, was that because the dragon was foul or merely fouled by the riders’ blackened souls. Coryza bared his fangs, massive spikes just as large as Zyryxa stained blue with the blood of whatever creatures it consumed.

Zyryxa stood her ground, rose to her full height, met the dragon’s dark blue eyes without flinching. Beside her, the wingbeats buffeted Lexyn and Pelzyq, forcing them back several steps. Zyryxa did not give way. Let Hatrox see that she wouldn’t be afraid, that she wouldn’t break.

When the mighty creature landed, the ground shook, rattling the gelubor at Zyryxa’s back, causing several of the crystalline branches to break off and shatter. Again, she stood proud, unwilling to show fear or weakness. Someday, she would rule over this beast too, and its knight. Let him see that she wouldn’t be intimidated now or ever.

The Knight of Riverwatch vaulted off the dragon’s spiked back. Hatrox wasn’t huge, as Abbaz or Valinax were. Indeed, he was no taller than Zyryxa, smaller than even Pelzyq. He wore furs as white as his soul was rumored to be black. On his back, sheathed in an “X” shape were two terrible weapons: a thick, flaming sword wrought from a fire dragon’s bones and an axe crafted of an ice dragon’s bones with the longest and sleekest of hafts. Two throwing axes were sheathed at his waist, qoryxite just like Zyryxa’s, the blades made of some bone that was not dragon, but something far more terrible. This man had met, and defeated, a yasmar, a foul spawn of Zamael. No doubt he thought his little axes a warning to those that thought to oppose him.

Zyryxa was determined to see that he was just a man. He was stocky, an indomitable physique cloaked beneath his furs. His face, Zyryxa noted with displeasure, was not displeasing to look upon. Unscarred, unblemished, with eminently masculine qualities. She sought an imperfection. She found none. Those light blue eyes pierced straight into her, sending shivers down her spine, speaking of an intelligence that could rival his might. His hair was also light blue, matching his eyes, adding to his ethereal, yet powerful, appeal. Zyryxa was more intrigued than afraid, at least for a few heartbeats.

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He was every bit the opposite of tall, lean Rivux, and yet was no less alluring. A paragon of power and beauty he was. Zyryxa gulped, knowing that if not for his reputation, for his lack of compassion, she’d see him as a most worthy consort. She tried to kill this part of her that felt a yearning, remembering the scars on Natazia’s body, on her mind, in her soul. This man was a monster, a symbol of everything wrong with a meritocracy built upon raw might. The only thing she ought to covet was his demise.

Hatrox took in a breath, sighing, his eyes never leaving Zyryxa. That same possessive grin that she’d experienced in the Frostmelt fell upon her, like she were the finest blade on the rack. Pride and fear warred within Zyryxa. She knew, even with just those few heartbeats, that he’d choose her above anyone else. She felt special, felt like she was seen as more than Natazia, more than even Vaztyma. As she should be. She was better. Superior.

Rather than repulsed, she gravitated toward the attention, wanting to prove that she could make it where Natazia had not. She clenched her jaw, determined to fight this impulse, to protect her brood from his meddling.

His voice was pure ice, somehow both empty of emotion and full of malice. “Why do you wander like lost wyrmlings looking for their dead mother.”

Zyryxa clenched Zyrthalla’s greataxe. He knew. Thirteen Divines! He knew. Her voice was harsh, combative. Proud. She didn’t need to kill her desire to be seen by him. He did that himself. “The Champion sent us on the Rite of the Dragon Knight. We seek the qione of Nix Tezyk.”

He smiled, baring his bloodstained teeth. “So young, so unprepared for a such a trial. Why, you three match the description of the greenbloods Vaztyma was supposed to send to me for honing.” He tut-tutted. “Time to come home, little wyrmlings, and to be taught how to become dragons.”

Zyryxa took a step toward him, ripping out the axe he’d thrown into her pride. “We’ve proven our worth to the Champion. We slaughtered an ancient ice wyrm, defended homesteads from beasts and Fire Tribe raiders. We defeated four broods of Faxiq’s finest, including Matyxal. We brought down a fire dragon, capturing the knight Rivux. We need no honing from you.”

His smile widened, though his eyes narrowed. “But you do, Zyryxa. If you want to become the Ice Champion.” He spread his arms out, stepping toward her. “You will never get there without me. I am the one who will make you great.”

Zyryxa felt like he had shoved her into a wall, pressed her there, and stared deep into her soul. Him knowing her name, her deepest desire, was confirmation of everything she already believed. And she wasn’t about to let this creep groom her. “I am already great. I will become greater when I complete the trials, when I rise up Monzqora and bond Duilahir. I do not need your help, Hatrox.”

He laughed. A brief, joyous chortle. Hatrox shook his head, his voice took on a frenetic energy, that was loaded with the sense that he spoke to them as if he were a Divine lecturing children. “Natazia will fail. She always does. From her, you will learn weakness, how to hide, how to freeze, how to quit, how to break before the slightest challenge.” He lifted his voice, a boom resounding with command. “Isn’t that right, Natazia?”

Natazia’s whimpers were the only response she offered.

“See how weak she is! She isn’t worth the drake she sits upon, and I doubt she was the one to capture and tame it. How will you ever bond a dragon, Natazia! You came to me as nothing and you left me as nothing!” Hatrox smiled, narrowing his eyes at Zyryxa. “But you are not nothing, Zyryxa. When she fails you, come to me. I will make you into Ice’s Champion.”

Zyrxl growled at him, moving between Zyryxa and the Knight of Riverwatch. His hand went to a throwing axe, his lip curled with delight. She could see in his eyes that he’d love having a reason to kill, to show them all just how powerful he was. Zyryxa seized Zyrxl’s reins, holding her back before she could charge. “Steady, Zyrxl. He’s not worth it.”

Hatrox turned his attention to Pelzyq and Lexyn for the first time, taking them in with his cold, calculating stare. Zyryxa felt more afraid now than when he focused on her, her lip trembling as he surveyed her brother and sister.

Pelzyq glared at him, his breathing heavy, his hands closed into tight fists. Lexyn stared at the ground, clinging to Pelzyq.

“See you soon,” Hatrox said, his voice as charming as any Zyryxa had ever heard, “if Natazia doesn’t get you killed like she has every other broodmate that has followed her.”

Pelzyq took a step forward, but Lexyn pulled him back. “Don’t,” she whispered.

Hatrox pouted, squinted his eyes, and wrung his hands. “Don’t,” he said, mimicking Lexyn, his eyes boring into her. “Don’t,” he repeated, his divinedamned grin rising on his perfect lips. “She knows you’re nothing compared to me, boy. She knows you will never be strong enough to protect her. Give it a try though. I could use the laugh.”

Laughing, Hatrox turned his back to them. Zyryxa reached for her throwing axes, yearning to bury them in his spine as he lingered. For all that, she knew that was what he wanted. This master manipulator pulled the strings on her emotions. If she attacked, he could override Vaztyma’s orders, get his hands on her. Zyryxa wouldn’t play into his hand; she cut the strings free. “Be gone.”

Hatrox took in a deep breath, turned back toward her, and walked backwards with his arms outstretched. “See you soon, Zyryxa. So very soon.” He lifted his head to Coryza. “Feast, my friend. Sabretooth today.” He licked his lips, eying the three of them and Zyrxl. “Who knows what Qoryxa will provide for us tomorrow.”

The dark dragon ripped into the nearest sabretooth. Bones crunched like tiny twigs beneath boots as Hatrox scaled the side of his dragon.

Zyryxa turned her back, resisting the temptation to fight. Do the trials. Bond Duilahir. Any further interaction with Hatrox before then was reckless.

He called down to her. “Such poise! Well done, Zyryxa. I wonder who defeated the ancient wyrm? Who defended the homesteads from beasts? Who killed the most raiders? Who brought down the fire dragon and captured its rider? I know it wasn’t Natazia!”

Zyryxa turned to him, roaring. “Go. Away!”

He tut-tutted. “And yet, Vaztyma doesn’t name you broodleader. Do you know why, Zyryxa?”

She strode for the gelubor.

“She is afraid of you taking her place! I am not afraid of your potential. I will see it realized!”

Natazia’s whimpers were like a crying baby, they were the worst sound imaginable. Zyryxa wanted to knock her out to make her shut up as Hatrox continued to call after her.

“When Natazia fails again, and you kill the qione, Zyryxa, you will wonder, ‘Why do I follow her?’ At Riverwatch, the strongest leads the swarm. From day one, I’d put you in charge of them, second only to me. I’d forge you into that which Vaztyma fears. So…” Coryza’s wings battered the forest, sending gelubor shattering and crashing all around them. Zyryxa caught a large treefall, shoving it aside before it could crush cowering Natazia. Lexyn dove beneath another as Pelzyq redirected it.

“See you soon,” Hatrox finished, Coryza taking off.