THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

The cavalry crashed into the clearing with the subtlety of an avalanche, snow flying in all directions as twenty mounted soldiers burst from the tree line. Captain Dubal's voice boomed across the battlefield before the last hoofbeat had faded:

"Surround the beast! Maintain distance! Do not let it escape!"

The soldiers moved with practiced efficiency, forming a wide circle with crossbows and spears trained on the volcanic drake. None were foolish enough to believe their weapons could seriously harm such a creature, but they could provide distraction, perhaps create an opening for their betters to exploit.

Amilia alighted beside Svara with ethereal grace that made it seem as though gravity was merely a suggestion she chose to follow. Her expression mixed exasperation with relief as she took in his battered condition, torn clothing, minor burns, the slight tremor in his hands that spoke of muscles pushed beyond their normal limits.

"You look absolutely pathetic," she declared, even as golden light began to flow from her staff.

The healing magic that enveloped his form was nothing like the crude battlefield medicine most soldiers knew. This was divine intervention made manifest, the blessing of whatever saint had chosen to work through her. Burns vanished as if they had never existed. Torn muscle fibre knitted itself back together. The bone-deep exhaustion that had been weighing him down simply... disappeared.

Svara flexed his fingers experimentally, marveling at the complete restoration. "Has anyone ever told you that your bedside manner needs work?"

"Frequently," Amilia replied without looking away from the drake, which had been watching their exchange with those disturbingly intelligent eyes. "Usually right before I save their lives."

The creature's throat glow had faded during the cavalry's arrival, but Amilia's enhanced senses detected the subtle shift in its posture. It was gathering itself, preparing for something more than simple fire breath. Her tactical analysis, honed through years of battle-saint training, painted a grim picture.

Cornered predator. Multiple opponents. High intelligence. It won't try to flee—it'll go for maximum casualties before we can coordinate properly.

"The enhancement," she said quietly, raising her staff toward Svara. "Are you ready?"

Svara's grin was all the answer she needed.

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Golden light enveloped the Masaai warrior until he seemed carved from sunlight itself, every muscle fiber enhanced beyond normal human limitations. Power coursed through him like liquid fire, divine blessing temporarily elevating mortal flesh to something approaching the heroic ideal. His axe grew to twice its normal size as pure battle intent gave the weapon substance, the metal itself singing with accumulated force.

The volcanic drake's eyes narrowed as it assessed this new development. For the first time since the battle began, uncertainty flickered across its reptilian features. This was no longer a simple hunt; it faced an opponent blessed by divine power, backed by trained soldiers, with nowhere to retreat.

Svara hefted the enlarged axe, feeling the weight of it settle into his enhanced muscles like it belonged there. The weapon's balance was perfect, its edge sharp enough to cut concepts rather than mere flesh. When he moved, reality seemed to bend slightly around him, as if the world itself was making room for his enhanced presence.

"Survive this if you can!" he roared, bringing the massive axe down in a diagonal slash that tore through more than just air and space.

The attack struck the drake's neck with the force of a falling mountain. Scales that had turned aside steel weapons parted like paper. Flesh and bone offered no more resistance than morning mist. The creature's head separated from its body in a spray of superheated ichor that turned to steam before it could hit the ground.

But Svara's enhanced strike didn't stop there. It continued beyond its target, carving through old pines as if they were mere grass, leaving a line of devastation that extended far into the forest. Somewhere in the distance, a tree crashed to the ground with a sound like thunder.

The soldiers stared in awe at the display of enhanced strength, several making religious gestures as they processed what they had witnessed. Captain Dubal allowed himself a smile of relief, tension flowing out of his shoulders like water from a broken dam.

The danger was—

A blur of bone-white death exploded from the snow behind Amilia.

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The scout drake had been waiting with the patience of a natural predator elevated to apex intelligence. Where its volcanic cousin had been a creature of fire and fury, this one embodied winter's quiet lethality, pale scales that blended perfectly with snow, movements calculated for maximum surprise, eyes that held not just animal cunning but genuine tactical awareness.

It had studied the battle from concealment, learning each fighter's capabilities and weaknesses. The Masaai warrior: powerful but exhausted after enhancement. The battle-saint: focused on her companion, not scanning for additional threats. The soldiers: positioned to contain a ground-bound enemy, not one that moved through snow like a shark through water.

Captain Dubal saw it first, a flash of bone-white scales emerging from what he had taken for a natural snow drift. His warrior's instincts, honed through twenty years of frontier duty, screamed warnings a split second before his conscious mind processed the threat.

"BEHIND YOU!" he roared, throwing himself forward with shield raised.

The captain's sacrifice saved Amilia's life but cost his own. The scout drake's claws punched through shield and armor like paper, the reinforced steel offering no more protection than parchment against weapons designed to hunt creatures far more durable than humans. Captain Dubal's body came apart in a spray of red that painted the pristine snow in abstract patterns of violence.

Amilia stumbled backward as gore splattered across her robes, gripping her staff with white knuckles as the scout drake's crimson eyes fixed on her with terrifying intelligence. This wasn't the mindless hunger of a beast, it was the calculated assessment of a predator that understood exactly what she represented and how to eliminate that threat.

"Svara!" she called, already beginning the gestures for a defensive ward.

"I know!" he snarled, but exhaustion weighed on his enhanced form like a physical thing. The divine blessing that had allowed him to destroy the volcanic drake was fading, leaving behind muscles that remembered their limitations and a body that had been pushed beyond its normal capabilities.

The scout drake's eyes blazed brighter, and its bone-club tail rose like a scorpion's stinger, poised to strike with enough force to crush stone. In those intelligent crimson orbs, Amilia saw something that chilled her more than the winter air, recognition. This creature knew exactly who she was, what she could do, and how to counter it.

It had been studying them all along.