The Ash Reaver moved first.
It vanished in a burst of cinders, reappearing directly before Kael with terrifying speed. A burning blade tore itself free from its arm, forged mid-motion from molten metal and hatred.
Kael barely had time to react.
Silver flame exploded outward as he crossed his arms, the dragon's power surging instinctively to shield him. The impact rang like a bell struck by a god. Kael was driven back through the sand, carving a trench behind him before crashing hard against a blackened stone outcrop.
Pain flared through his ribs.
The Reaver didn't let up.
It strode forward through the silver fire as if wading through shallow water, its armor glowing brighter with every step. "Yes," it growled. "That fire. That resistance. You burn beautifully."
Lira moved again.
She sprinted wide, boots skidding across scorched sand, drawing the Reaver's attention just long enough. She raised her hand and pulled—not with strength, but with intent. The air bent violently, compressing into a warped sphere that slammed into the Reaver's side.
The force didn't throw it back.
But it made it stop.
For a heartbeat, the Ash Reaver turned its head toward her, molten eyes narrowing.
"You should not exist," it said.
Lira swallowed, fear screaming at her to run. She didn't. "Funny," she replied, voice shaking but steady. "I was thinking the same about you."
The Reaver roared and hurled its blade.
Kael reacted without thinking.
The silver dragon answered.
Time slowed.
For an instant, Kael wasn't in the Ember Wastes.
He was somewhere else—high above endless clouds, wings stretching wider than mountains. He felt ancient rage, discipline forged through centuries of war, the memory of facing fire not with fear but with command.
A silver dragon had stood against infernos like this before.
And it had won.
Kael snapped back to reality as silver flame erupted from his hands, condensing into a razor-edged arc that shattered the incoming blade midair. Molten fragments rained down, hissing violently as they struck the sand.
The Ash Reaver staggered back half a step.
Half a step—but that was enough.
Maelor's staff struck the ground behind them, runes flaring to life. The air around the Reaver thickened, roots of glowing sigils binding its legs just long enough to slow it.
"Now, boy!" Maelor shouted. "Not with rage—with memory!"
Kael inhaled.
He didn't force the fire.
He guided it.
Silver flame coiled around his arm, calmer now, denser, refined into something sharper than raw power. He stepped forward and drove his fist into the ground.
A pillar of silver erupted beneath the Ash Reaver, launching it into the air in a storm of ash and flame.
The creature crashed back down hard, cracking the scorched earth.
For the first time, the Ash Reaver did not rise immediately.
Silence fell, broken only by the hiss of cooling fire.
Lira lowered her arm, chest heaving. Kael stood beside her, trembling—not from fear, but from restraint. Whatever the dragon was trying to show him, it wasn't finished.
The Ash Reaver stirred.
Slowly, it pushed itself upright, armor cracked, molten glow flickering unevenly.
Its laugh was quieter now.
"…Good," it rasped. "Very good."
It straightened, towering over them despite the damage. "My lord will want to hear of this."
Maelor's eyes widened. "Kael—!"
The Reaver slammed its fist into its own chest. Fire collapsed inward, imploding into a singularity of ash. In the next instant, its body disintegrated into a cyclone of embers that shot skyward and vanished into the clouds.
Gone.
The heat lingered.
Lira sank to one knee, finally letting the fear catch up to her. Kael turned toward her immediately.
"You didn't hesitate," he said quietly.
She looked up at him, exhausted but defiant. "Neither did you."
Maelor stared at the sky where the Ash Reaver had disappeared, jaw tight. "That wasn't a scout," he said grimly. "That was a message."
Kael followed his gaze.
Sereth now knew exactly where they were.
And this time, he would not send only one general.