Chapter 11 - THE SEEDS OF THE SHADOW FLIGHT
The morning sun over the Imperial Capital brought a deceptive sense of peace. For three weeks, Marlo Ashdown lived in a world of quiet rehabilitation and sudden prestige. As the newly appointed Flight Master of the Recovery Unit, she was granted access to the high roosts—a sprawling complex of open-air cliffside aviaries overlooking the river.
Nyx’s recovery was slow, deliberate work. Every morning, Marlo sat beside him on the damp stone ledges, applying soothing ointments composed of silver-leaf and dragon-moss to the scar tissue along his left wing joint. The black dragon no longer recoiled; instead, he would close his heavy amber eyes and emit a low rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.
Alistair visited daily, ostensibly to deliver updated intelligence reports from the High Directorate, but mostly to watch Marlo work.
"The Directorate has seized three illegal holding facilities along the southern border," Alistair said, leaning against the wooden railing as Marlo gently worked a stubborn muscle knot on Nyx’s wing. "We recovered seven more dragons. All of them bear similar structural injuries—broken bones forced to heal at unnatural angles to break their spirits."
Marlo wiped her hands on a linen rag and looked up. "Are they alive?"
"Barely," Alistair replied softly. "They’re terrified, aggressive, and currently slated for containment. The Council doesn't know how to handle them. They’re calling them 'unusable assets.'"
"They aren't assets," Marlo said, her voice hard. "They’re victims. Bring them here."
"Marlo, the roosts are only built for five dragons," Alistair warned. "And the Directorate is already uneasy about giving an ex-stable hand full operational authority over class-one war beasts."
"Then let them be uneasy," Marlo said, patting Nyx’s flank as the big dragon lifted his head. "If Voss could build a network to break them, we will build a home to heal them. We need a dedicated unit—the Shadow Flight."
May you like
Before Alistair could answer, a shadow stretched across the stone floor. Instructor Vane’s former right-hand man, Commander Kael, stood at the entrance of the roost, flanked by two armed inspectors.
"An ambitious dream, Flight Master," Kael said, his lip curling into a sneer. "Unfortunately, your dream has just been impounded."
