Zyryxa and Natazia burst through the lodge doors, stepping into a stifling den of depravity. A wave of heat hit Zyryxa, mingling with the rank odor of unwashed bodies and drakes. Her heart pounded with icy fury, Ice’s Judgment burning within her chest.

The lodge was a chaotic wreck of liquor bottles, dice, cards, and scattered furs. To her left, a burly man in his undergarments lounged in a chair, sipping from a bottle while two heatscales roused at his feet. To her right, two blue-haired women were bound and gagged to bedposts. One of them was being violated by a lanky Fire Tribe man, her cries muffled by her gag.

Zyryxa’s heart twisted with fury. The dishonorable men deserved no mercy. Her greataxe was Qoryxa’s justice, unforgiving and swift. The faces of those she fought for flashed in her mind: Xana, Anniqa, and the babe. She would not fail them.

With a growl, she charged the raper, her axe glistening blue with wyrm’s blood. He turned just in time to see the flash of her blade before it cleaved through his skull. The corpse slumped atop atop the one-armed, gagged woman, his orange blood pooling on the bed.

“Kill!” the other man bellowed, rising from his seat.

The heatscales shimmered in the firelight like molten lava. One charged Zyryxa while the other lunged at Natazia, who leveled her spear at the man with messy blood-red hair and demonic eyes.

Zyryxa hurled the rapist’s corpse at the drake rushing her, knocking it into a table. With rapid precision, she swung her axe, splitting another skull. Burning blood sizzled on her blade, dissolved by the white wyrm’s frost.

Natazia leapt aside from the other drake’s flame spout, the inferno igniting the wall. Zyryxa hurled a qoryxite handaxe at the beast, burying the hatchet in its throat. It sprawled to the ground with a hideous cry before Natazia jabbed its eyes with her spear.

The heat was suffocating, flames licking at the white walls. Zyryxa quickly cut Striqa and Valqa’s bindings while Natazia lunged for the Fire Tribe brute, sword and spear clanging as she screamed for murder.

“Come on,” Zyryxa urged the prisoners, “Bax is outside.”

“Bax lives?” the two-armed woman gasped, her eyes welling with emotion.

“And Anniqa, Xana, and a babe,” Zyryxa said, helping the one-armed prisoner off the bunk. “Grab some furs and a weapon, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Zyryxa cursed Seraxa as fire turned the lodge into a deathtrap of smoke and heat. The doorway they had entered was now engulfed in flames, leaving the only viable exit at the side of the lodge where Natazia battled the demonic-eyed man.

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The man, howling obscenities, took a spear to the shoulder. He stepped into the pain, shoving Natazia back, and dashed out of the lodge’s last remaining doorway.

“I’m going to flaming kill you, Taxim!” Natazia bellowed, slamming her body against the door, only to be repelled as the brute held it shut on the outside. She pushed with all her might, all her pent-up rage, but the door didn’t budge.

The flames encroached, smoke clawing at Zyryxa’s throat and stinging her eyes. Each breath was a labor, each movement a battle against the fire’s voracious hunger. She wasn’t going to fail little Xana and certainly wouldn’t let this horrid brute be the death of her. Cold vindication gave way to flaming wrath.

“Out of the way,” she roared.

Natazia spared one scowl before ducking aside. Zyryxa’s axe split through the door, revealing Taxim’s blood-red, bloodshot eyes. She charged forward with an ear-splitting roar, slamming into the door with the full brunt of her strength. The door blasted off its hinges, but she kept her momentum, barreling into Taxim. The two of them rolled into the snow, her greataxe flung from her grip, and they pushed against each other, vying for footing.

Taxim was quicker, sending a punch that laid Zyryxa back into the snow. She twisted, kicking him in the groin as he came for her again. Reeling, he scrambled for his greatsword and staggered toward the bonfire, crying out, “Matyxal!”

Zyryxa reclaimed her mother’s greataxe, joined by Natazia, naked save for her spear and the tapestry of trauma writ upon her skin. Behind them, Striqa and Valqa called out for Bax, clinging to their furs and a pair of swords. The burning lodge lit the night, sending smoke spiraling up to the dark clouds sheathing the stars.

Matyxal rose, unsheathed her famed longsword, the flames igniting as the dragonbone left the scabbard. Memories of valiant tournament battles resonated in Zyryxa’s mind, freezing her in place. Even with the numbers in their favor, she felt like prey being sized up by an apex predator. Her breath caught as Matyxal smirked at her, offering a sly wink, before her gaze shifted toward the gate.

“Valqa! Striqa!” Bax roared, rushing through the open gate alongside Lexyn, Pelzyq, and Zyrxl. Dryxl howled and rushed back toward Lexyn, Zyrxl, ever the just, growled at him and the darkscale cowered behind his rider. Zyryxa couldn’t take her eyes off Matyxal, or reclaim her confidence that melted in the fiery warrior’s gaze.

“Surround them!” Natazia ordered, and Zyryxa found her feet move into place, mustering a fragment of her courage and resolve.

Seven dragon warriors and two drakes formed a circle around Matyxal and Taxim. The indomitable warrior showed no trace of fear, and the hint of amusement, the fire burning in her eyes nestled in a face of a thousand freckles set beneath her flaming hair, was a vision of power and beauty. Nine to two, Zyryxa reminded herself. Yet, the confidence didn’t return. Before, when the blizzard raged it was easy to believe this was Qoryxa’s night. Now, flames consumed the homestead, and it was hard not to believe that Seraxa would prevail over her divine twin.

“Kill ‘em, woman!” Taxim roared.

She turned on him, her cloak fluttering with the sudden movement. Taxim didn’t have time to react beyond initial bewilderment. Matyxal’s dragonbone sword flew faster than any dragon, clipping Taxim’s throat with just the tip of its jagged blade. He fell to his knees, trying to keep the orange from flowing out, hatred blazing in his demonic eyes.

“The flames of renewal shall consume the wicked and from their ashes may Volqor be born anew,” Matyxal said, gripping her blade in both hands. Taxim gurgled, gouts of blood erupting from his maw. Matyxal chopped off his head and sent it rolling into the bonfire.

Whirling her burning blade and stepping into a fighting stance, Matyxal smiled at them like a dragon about to feast.