Chapter 7 - The Reckoning of the High Peaks
Panic tore through Reev’s guards like wildfire.
Two of the mercenary soldiers dropped their pikes and bolted toward the narrow mountain path, only to find their way blocked by a pair of massive emerald Drakes whose tails swept across the stone, sending the men scrambling backward in terror.
“Hold your ground!” Reev shrieked, his face turning a mottled, furious red as he swung his pistol back and forth between Wyn and the looming dragons. “They’re beasts! Kill them! Kill the girl!”
Not a single guard moved. They stood paralyzed, their weapons trembling in their hands, staring up at the circle of ancient predators that closed in around the sanctuary with silent, terrifying coordination.
Kalen didn't wait.
With a sudden, explosive twist of his body, he slammed his elbow backward into the ribs of the guard holding his manacles, driving his heel down onto the man’s boot. As the guard doubled over in agony, Kalen snatched the iron ring-key from the man’s belt, unlocked his shackles in a single fluid motion, and drew his broadsword.
“It’s over, Reev,” Kalen shouted, stepping between the Chancellor and Wyn.
Reev raised his pistol, aiming frantically at Kalen’s chest—but before his finger could squeeze the trigger, a heavy, scaled tail whipped out from the darkness, striking the pistol from his hand with a sharp metallic clatter.
The gun spun through the air and plunged deep into the icy alpine lake.
Reev stumbled backward, tripping over a snow-covered rock and landing hard on his back in the slush. He looked up, his face twisted in desperate rage, only to find himself staring directly into the luminous, amber-gold eyes of Kestrel.
The dragon towered over him, casting a shadow so absolute it swallowed the torchlight entirely.
Kestrel didn't strike. He didn't tear the Chancellor limb from limb, as many beasts might have done. Instead, he slowly lowered his massive head, nudged the iron strongbox forward with his snout, and flipped the heavy latches open with a flick of his claw.
Spilling out across the white snow were hundreds of glowing, crystalline shards of refined dragon-stone—and right on top, the signed confessions and shipping manifests bearing Reev’s personal seal.
Footsteps echoed from the mountain pass behind them.
Not the sound of more mercenaries, but the heavy, rhythmic marching of armored boots accompanied by the flutter of royal standards.
Dozens of elite royal guards, led by the High Commander of the Crown’s personal guard, poured into the sanctuary, their swords drawn and torches blazing.
The High Commander stopped short, taking in the circle of wild dragons, the spilled crystalline ledgers, the bruised deputy commandant, and the Chancellor sitting defeated in the snow.
“Chancellor Reev,” the Commander said coldly, stepping forward with an official parchment bearing the royal crest of the King. “By decree of the Crown, you are hereby placed under arrest for high treason, illegal mining of protected sanctuaries, and the unlawful falsification of military records.”
Reev stared up at the royal standard, his face draining of all color. His lips moved silently, but no sound came out.
Two royal guards stepped forward, hauling the Chancellor roughly to his feet and snapping heavy iron cuffs around his wrists.
As they dragged him away toward the mountain path, Reev cast one final, venomous look back at Wyn standing beside the black-gold dragon.
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Wyn didn't flinch. She met his gaze with absolute, unshakeable calm.
The invisible stable girl had stepped out of the shadows. And she wasn't hiding anymore.
