Let me preface by saying I didn’t mean to get cursed into a dragon.
It just sort of happened. When your father wages a surprise attack against a rival enchantress queen, curses are bound to occur.
All in all, I thought my father got off easily. Invade a neighboring country, get a cursed son.
Hendria looked around the corner, waiting for the guards to pass around the temple wall. She took a breath, then counted to ten. She’d executed everything perfectly up to this moment; now all those months of meticulous planning seemed to be paying off. She’d memorized every rotation and path of the guards.
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Morning’s pale light radiates through the cracks in the storehouse where I sleep, and I lean into the comforting warmth. The air is silent and still. Heavy with expectation. My stomach pinches in hunger and I tuck my legs to my chin, whimpering. Wait for the pain to pass.
Pain. One.
Torryn’s stomach tightened under their stares, and he flexed his grip on the ancient hilt. The sword’s flat steel lay cold against his shoulder, overly heavy in both weight and responsibility.
“That’s…” The old man at the center of the table shook his head, the glittering jewels and embroidery attesting to how much he and ..
Dr. Byron Stoneburner inserted the bronze snake into a satchel as German bullets whizzed overhead. He secured the latch on the bag and mumbled a prayer.
Courage. Or Jack’s dead.
A disheveled officer nudged his arm. “You’re serious?”
Byron tightened his helmet chinstrap and placed a muddy boot on the trench ladder.
Joyful laughter fills the air as my men arrange carts filled with their wives, children, and the spoils of war at the edge of the battlefield. Their families need to be here to witness when Briton claws her way from the eagles’ talons.
I can almost taste victory on my tongue, sweet
Cal Ravenwood would have killed for a cigarette. Much to his chagrin, he was trying to quit. Not so much for health reasons, but because nicotine and the use of magic didn’t mix well. It was one of the unspoken laws of the Dark Matter, the entity from which all magic was born.
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The sound of sobbing cleaved the war-torn air, assailing Hephaestus’s aching and stiff joints. It wasn’t just the grief rattling him—he knew that voice. And he’d never heard her cry like this before. Pushing off his cane, he propelled himself forward, increasing the pace of his uneven limp with every step.
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Big Ben chimes the hour. One. Two. Three. Four… all the way to nine. Nine in the evening. But it seems darker. Blacker than midnight. Not even a candle allowed. Shadows lie heavy over London, suppressing all thoughts and laughter. I toss off the covers, trying to free myself from the constricting bed clothes.
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Kaits and his buddies scrambled to hide their holocards and gambling chips as Lieutenant Gilbert walked into the rec bay. Gaming for credits was strictly forbidden on the Galactic Defense Federation’s ships, and the last thing Kaits needed was to get chewed out by the lieutenant.
Again.
“Men, this is Private Johnny Wilson
They come to me for the dreams—bubbles of florescent light that pop behind their eyelids and reveal an elsewhere. They don’t even care where they go. They just don’t want to be here.
I understand. With Earth a hair’s breadth away from total annihilation due to alien laser beams, I get the need…
Eerie caterwauling split the air, making Aisha’s skin prickle and her bones melt. The ghost cat.
She eyed the swaying brush, lit silver by the moonlight. Dark bloodstains lingered on the dry stalks. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her useless knife.
“Zawadi?” The shrieking nearly swallowed her quavering voice. “Is that you?”
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