Master of None: A Wings of Fire fanfiction

14.

Content warning: Depictions of war and the trauma that results from that

Darkstalker

I'm such a good liar.

So good, I even convinced myself for a while.

I'm surrounded by dragons made of black metal and seething rage. It's nothing against my own.

The order sounds from atop a nearby dune, "Retreat! All soldiers retreat!"

I don't want to stop fighting until I see Sharp-eyes bleed. I throw myself at one of the automatons, and it fights back. I charge at it, clamp my talons around its snout, dig my claws into its eyes. For half a second, I could swear I recognize those eyes. Could swear it really feels pain.

And there's another soldier coming at the automaton from behind, trying to pierce between its armour with a spear. It won't work, but she still keeps trying. These idiots still think there's anything in this battle beyond catharsis and delirium.

Where do I recognize those eyes?

Is it Solstice, Thoughtful? Digging sharp claws into my face, leaving a gash on my cheek that I know will leave a scar. Trying to incinerate me, or kill me by blood loss if that comes first; breaking the neck of a soldier I exchanged passing conversation with this morning. Didn't he say his mother was dying, and he was the only one left to care for her? Didn't I think he was full of himself, a little too altruistic to not be lying?

"Soldiers, retreat!"

I dodge a blast of fire. Rather than hitting me, it intercepts one of my fellow soldiers' wings.

They don't matter. They're not my family. They can all rot in hell.

Some time later, I lie on the sand, vaguely aware I'm bleeding.

I'm still that bitter, angry dragonet, in some part of me.

I could tear the whole world apart if that's what needed to get done.

***

There's no fighting anymore–just NightWings surrounding every inch of the wall around Scorpion Den. I catch a few glimpses as medics carry me away on a stretcher.

So we're under siege right now.

If I were Scorpion, I'd start with a demonstration, something to let them know I meant business. Then I'd give them a chance to get away without any blood being spilled. If they didn't take the hint, I'd attack for real. I could do that if I had my magic. I could do anything I wanted to.

I laugh, staring up at the sky. Some field medic is hovering over me–I wonder if Clearsight knows her. If on her break, Clearsight tells her–how she's worried sick, how she thinks I'm hiding something. I bet her colleague reassures her she's just being paranoid.

"I need you to hold pressure on this bandage–can you do that?" There's blood all over my face, I can feel it–faint warmth and vague stinging, reminding me that I am fallible and flawed.

"What happened out there?" I ask numbly, holding gauze against my cheek.

"We retreated, and the NightWings actually respected that–they stopped fighting, too. They're just gathered around the wall. They only start attacking if someone tries to go out–for now, at least. We're under siege."

"Am I going to the hospital?"

"At least for a check-up, yeah," she says as she secures bandages around wounds I didn't even know I had.