Chapter 8 - The Siege of Blackwinter
The battle for Blackwinter Court began at dawn. General Vane’s catapults launched volley after volley of burning pitch against the outer gates, while heavy infantry surged across the frozen moat.
Inside the walls, Prince Lucian fought side by side with the loyalist guards, his ceremonial dagger replaced by a real, blood-stained steel broadsword. The arrogance of youth had been beaten out of him; every swing he made was driven by desperate redemption.
Suddenly, the sky above the eastern ridge tore open in a blaze of copper and crimson light.
“Look! The sky!” a soldier screamed, pointing upward.
With a thunderous crash that echoed like rolling thunder, the massive winged tiger slammed directly into the center of General Vane’s siege formation. The shockwave of heat melted the snow in a hundred-yard radius, sending catapults, horses, and armored soldiers flying into the air.
Atop the beast’s back sat Rowan Thorne. The blue runes on his hands burned with blinding intensity, and the heavy medallion around the tiger’s neck pulsed with a brilliant, stabilizing light that shattered the enemy’s dark enchantments.
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“For the true crown!” Marcus Hale roared, leading the royal cavalry out through the broken postern gate to charge the disoriented enemy lines.
General Vane tried to rally his retreating men, but Rowan raised his hand. A bolt of pure thermal energy leaped from his fingertips, striking the ground beside the general’s horse and sending him tumbling into the snow. The eastern host broke ranks and fled in absolute terror.
