Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,299

told him. He will stand trial.

Fire crackled. Smoke unfurled. Mimics and Earthen whispered and bustled.

A long shadow fell upon the battlefield. Covered in ash and blood, Gloriae emerged from the smoke and fire.

She walked forward, her eyes green ice, her face blank, her sword drawn in her hand. Her hair flew in the wind, black with smoke.

"Gloriae," Dies Irae whispered, choking on his blood.

Gloriae the Gilded, the Light of Osanna, Heir to Requiem, walked toward the man she had once called Father. She said nothing. Her face was a dead mask

"Gloriae," Kyrie said softly, and she shoved him.

He fell off Dies Irae and stumbled two steps. Before he could leap back, Gloriae pointed her sword at Dies Irae's neck.

"Stand back, Kyrie," she said quietly. "This is between me and him."

"Gloriae, he—"

"Stand back, Kyrie!" she shouted, and her eyes blazed. Kyrie froze.

For sixteen years, Gloriae lived captive to this man, he reminded himself. Let her say what she will. He stood watching.

"You murdered May," she whispered.

Dies Irae nodded. "I raped her too. What is your point?"

She bared her teeth. Her knuckles were white around the hilt of her sword. "You murdered my parents."

He shook his head. "But I am your parent, child. I created you when I took the lizard queen. You are mine, child. You are mine."

Her voice shook, and her eyes burned. "I am not your child."

He raised a bloody hand to her. "Gloriae. Leave these weredragons. Join me. We will rule again. You are forgiven, child. You are still beautiful and pure. Leave these creatures who corrupted you. Let us rule together like we used to. Look at you. You wear rags now. You hide in mud and grime. Join me, and I will forge you new armor of gold, and you will rule a great empire again, not these piles of ruin."

Gloriae stared down at him, her lips tight, and her eyes dampened. She shook her head. Her voice trembled.

"I believed you once," she said. "I loved you once. I fought for your ideals. For glory, light, order and justice." She gestured at the battlefield. "Look around you, Irae. Look at the creatures you created, that you brought to war. There is no light and justice here. You always told me that you fought monsters. But you have become the monster, leading a host of them. I still believe in light and justice and glory. But I found it among the mud and ruins. You will pay for what you've done. But you will not stand trial; I will not allow it."

Dies Irae stared up at her, eyes widening. "Gloriae. Please. Gloriae, I—"

Gloriae screamed.

Smoke unfurled and fire crackled.

"You will die on the blade that you forged me." She drove Per Ignem into his neck.

Blood painted the snow.

The stars glowed.

Dawn rose in the east, and Kyrie fell to his knees, and held the body of his queen, and wept. His siblings held him. His beloved cried with him. Sunrise flowed over King's Forest, a dawn of blood, tears, and light.

Kyrie lowered his head. All victory is vanished; all joy is forever lost. His queen had fallen.

GLORIAE

She stood apart from the others. With dry eyes, she stared at the grave, and at the last survivors of Requiem who huddled together with tears and whispers.

Another funeral, she thought. Another sacrifice for our nation, our life, our sky.

The wind blew, ruffled her hair, and stung her cheeks. It sneaked under her breastplate to kiss her skin. The wind too seemed to cry, but Gloriae could not. She could shed no tears, could whisper no whispers, could not embrace the others and share their pain. Her mourning was her own. They will think me cold, she knew. Gloriae the Gilded, the warrior of ice.

Her pain was a private thing; it always had been. The pain of her exile. The pain of losing May. The pain of finding her true parents, only to lose them like this, so quickly, a flash of stars soon overcome with clouds.

Gloriae rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. Her mother's sword. Stella Lumen, diamonds upon its grip, shaped like the Draco constellation.

"I will carry this sword, Mother," she whispered.

Crows flew above, circling the sky. The crows have returned. Winter is ending. Gloriae took slow steps toward the grave. The others saw her approach and pulled apart silently, tears in their eyes. She saw the tombstone behind them. It rose beside the grave of Benedictus—twin stones.

It was tall and white, taller than Gloriae, carved of marble