Chapter 7 - The Roar of Truth
Vesper didn't wait for Cassian to give an order.
The moment the leading guard raised his halberd toward Sorcha, the obsidian dragon erupted from the straw. It wasn't the blind, frantic rage of a cornered beast; it was a calculated, terrifying explosion of pure, ancient fury.
With a deafening roar that shook the very foundation of the fortress walls, Vesper whipped his massive tail around, sweeping the legs out from under two of the guards before they could blink. Steel armor crashed against stone with a sickening crunch.
“Hold your fire!” Cassian shouted, though his voice was entirely drowned out by the thunderous echo of the dragon’s voice.
Ashby stumbled backward, his face draining of all color as a twenty-foot monster towered over him, its jaws dripping with hot, incandescent mist that smelled faintly of sulfur and ozone. Vesper didn’t strike the lord down; instead, he planted his massive foreleg—the very one Sorcha had bandaged—directly across the exit tunnel, completely blocking off escape.
“You want a rabid beast?” Vesper seemed to roar without opening his mouth, his amber eyes locked onto Ashby with terrifying intelligence.
Sorcha sprinted forward, holding the ledger high in the air. She didn’t look at Ashby; she looked up toward the high gallery overlooking the enclosure.
There, standing in the iron-grated balcony, had gathered half the senior officers of the Dragon Corps, drawn by the commotion—including the Grand Inquisitor himself.
“INQUISITOR!” Sorcha’s voice pierced the chaos, clear and sharp as a silver bell. “LOOK AT THE RECORDS! THIS MAN ORDERED THE SABOTAGE! HE CRIIPPLED HIS OWN MOUNTS TO STEAL LAND!”
She threw the thick stack of ledgers straight up into the air toward the gallery.
An officer leaned over the iron railing, snatching the bundle out of the air. The courtyard fell into a breathless, stunned silence save for Vesper’s heavy, rhythmic breathing and Ashby’s ragged gasps of terror.
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Up on the gallery, the Inquisitor flipped open the stained pages. His eyes scanned the precise tallies of the custom iron harness, the nightroot purchases, and the forged training logs.
Slowly, the Inquisitor raised his head, his gaze fixing coldly upon Lord Ashby down in the yard.
