Chapter 11 – Into the Broken Valley
The Broken Valley was named not for its cliffs or terrain, but for what had happened there.
Fifty years ago, an entire legion of Luther knights vanished in those canyons. The only survivor returned screaming of fire without flame, wings that blocked out the sky, and a roar that made the mountains bleed.
No one spoke of that survivor anymore.
Jean rode into the valley at dusk.
The cliffs closed around her like the jaws of an ancient beast. Shadows stretched long. Whitney moved beside her, ears flat, fur bristling.
"The wind tastes of sulfur. And something older."
Jean gripped her sword tighter.
As they made camp, Jean lit no fire. She meditated instead, aura shimmering faintly around her. The silence was absolute.
Until it wasn't.
A screech split the air—metal tearing from stone. Then silence again.
Whitney growled low. "It's watching us."
Jean didn't draw her sword. She stood and looked up instead.
Above the cliffs, silhouetted against the stars, a shadow flew.
Not a dragon—something smaller, but no less dangerous. A Skyrazor.
Jean had studied them at the Academy. Harbingers. Scouts for full-blooded dragons. Intelligent. Cruel.
The creature circled, then vanished into mist.
"Come down," Jean whispered. "I'm here."
The attack was sudden.
The Skyrazor dove, talons extended, screeching like a cursed wind. Jean leapt, aura flaring—her blade met claw. Sparks flew. Whitney lunged, catching one of its wings in his jaws.
The Skyrazor shrieked in pain, flung Whitney aside, and crashed into the rock.
Jean landed, boots sliding on gravel.
"Now," she said.
She dashed forward, aura wrapping around her blade like sunlight through glass.
The Skyrazor flapped once—tried to fly—
Too late.
Jean's sword struck its chest—a divine pulse exploded outward, severing its bond to corrupted flame. The creature let out a final cry and disintegrated into glowing ash.
Jean stood still, breathing hard.
Whitney limped to her side. "It was marked."
Jean nodded. Carved into the Skyrazor's chest—the Serpent-Sword-Flame.
Proof.
"They're calling scouts to the surface," Jean said. "They're preparing for something big."
She picked up one of the ash-scorched feathers.
"Which means I need to be stronger… faster."
Whitney nodded.
"Then it's time."
Jean looked at him. "Time for what?"
The dire wolf's eyes glowed gold.
"To visit your grandfather."
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