In a distant, nameless valley, the air was thick with the cloying scent of wildflowers.
"Kill them," Orion said, his voice devoid of all warmth.
It was a strange sight. Where ice and snow had dominated, a carpet of vibrant blossoms now stretched across the landscape as if spring had conquered winter in a single, violent burst.
"My lord, are you certain?" Soraya swayed toward him, her hips moving with a liquid grace. "We could enslave them." She shot a sidelong glance at the phoenix nearby as she relayed the kill order to her warriors.
The war was already over. It had ended the moment the Cretaceous beasts had broken and fled. Their masters, the sentient Cretaceous people who had orchestrated the conflict, were now all captives. They possessed a natural affinity for the beasts, a born right to command them, holding a place of dominance within their species.
