Chapter 3: Inferno Rain

Queen Scarlet reclined on her grand throne, talons tapping rhythmically against the polished armrests as she gazed down at the two SkyWing scouts kneeling before her. The throne room, a cavernous space carved into the heart of a mountain, was illuminated by the glow of molten lava seeping through cracks in the stone. Scarlet's golden eyes glimmered with the same fire as the molten rivers, her expression a mask of regal curiosity and barely contained violence.

At her feet, Emberfang and Emberclaw, two of the scouts she had sent up North with one of her best commanders, Redclaw, knelt in submission, their heads bowed low. Between them lay a strange, twisted metal carcass, charred and mangled from their battle. The sight of the metal creature intrigued Queen Scarlet, though she hid her interest beneath a veneer of cruel amusement.

"You may rise," she said lazily, flicking a talon toward them. Her voice, silky and sharp, carried with it the weight of unquestioned authority.

The two dragons lifted their heads but did not meet her gaze. Emberfang, the larger of the two, cleared his throat nervously. "Your Majesty, we come bearing news from the North—news we had not anticipated."

Queen Scarlet's eyes flicked to the twisted wreckage between them. "This," she gestured languidly, "is your great offering? A hunk of metal? I sent you North to investigate the unmoving storm, and you return with this… thing. Do explain, before I grow bored."

Emberclaw, the more cautious of the two, spoke next, her voice trembling slightly. "Your Majesty, it was not just any storm. Within it, we encountered two… creatures. Metal creatures. Unlike anything we've seen. They attacked us, cutting through our squad like nothing. Five of our comrades were slain, including Redclaw."

At the mention of Redclaw, Queen Scarlet's eyes narrowed. Redclaw had been one of her favored fighters, and his loss was no small thing. Her tail flicked sharply, betraying her irritation. "You're telling me that these metal beasts killed Redclaw?" Her tone grew icier with each word. "Redclaw was one of my best. And yet you stand here, telling me he fell to... this?"

Emberfang dipped his head lower, his wings twitching nervously. "Yes, Your Majesty. Redclaw was fierce, but these creatures moved faster than any dragon. They breathed fire, but it wasn't like ours—it was like the sky itself tore open in flames. We tried to fight back, but…"

"They were faster," Emberclaw added, her voice tight. "Much faster than us. They struck with precision, and one by one, we were cut down. We only survived because of our flight training and… perhaps some luck."

Queen Scarlet's eyes gleamed dangerously. She rose slowly from her throne, her talons clicking on the stone floor as she descended toward the scouts, her movements deliberate and predatory. Her gaze lingered on the wreckage. "And you think these creatures come from the North? From that storm?"

"We believe so," Emberfang replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "We fear they may be part of a new race of dragons—or something even worse. They could be coming for us, Your Majesty."

At this, Scarlet's lips curled into a wicked smile. "A new race of dragons?" She stepped closer, her tail flicking behind her, the molten glow from the floor casting eerie shadows on her scales. "Or perhaps something else entirely. Something more dangerous."

She circled the metal carcass, inspecting it with a mix of fascination and disdain. The idea of a new threat—something that could potentially challenge her—sparked a dark excitement in her. For years, Queen Scarlet had dominated the SkyWing Kingdom, ruling through fear and bloodshed. The thought of something powerful enough to rival her dragons was both a challenge and an opportunity.

"I must admit, I am intrigued," she purred, her voice soft yet menacing. "Metal creatures, faster than dragons, slaying my warriors like prey… If there is something new in the North, something that dares to threaten me, it will not be long before I go hunting for it myself."

She turned sharply, her wings flaring out as her gaze bore into Emberfang and Emberclaw. "You two did well to survive, but do not think your survival was guaranteed. Had you returned with nothing but tales of defeat, you would be nothing more than ash by now. But this..." She gestured to the wreckage with a claw. "This changes things."

Scarlet's mind raced. If these metal creatures were a new kind of dragon—or something worse. If it could move—she could use them, if it could think—she could manipulate them, if they could think and feel fear—perhaps even control them. And if they posed a threat to her rule, well, that would be dealt with in time. First, she would learn more.

"Send more scouts," she commanded suddenly, her voice snapping through the chamber. "I want to know everything about this storm. Where it leads, what comes through it. And if there are more of these metal beasts, I want to know how to destroy them."

Her eyes flicked back to the two scouts. "As for you two, you will be the ones to lead this new investigation. Fail me again, and you will not live to see another sunrise. Do you understand?"

Both Emberfang and Emberclaw nodded quickly, their fear palpable.

Queen Scarlet returned to her throne, her mind already working through the possibilities. If these creatures posed a genuine threat, she would crush them. But if they could be turned to her advantage… well, the world had not yet seen the full extent of her cruelty. She would find a way to make this storm work for her.

For now, she would play the game. But one thing was certain: no one, not even these metal creatures, would defy Queen Scarlet and live to tell the tale.

General Robert Moore stood at the command center, his eyes fixed on the screen displaying the latest drone feed. The image was grainy, but the dense forests and rugged mountains on the other side of the portal were unmistakable—uncharted territory in a world that wasn't their own. He tapped his fingers against the edge of the table, his mind racing with possibilities.

Beside him, Admiral Alejandro Ramírez of the Mexican Navy studied the same footage. His expression was one of concern, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity. Both men understood that this mission had gone beyond recovering a lost pilot—it had become the first human exploration into another world.

"Any updates on the drones?" Moore asked, his voice even, betraying none of the tension coursing through him.

Lieutenant Colonel Harrison stepped forward, toggling a few switches on the console. The image on the screen changed to a recording from one of the drones that had managed to return. The video showed vast landscapes—endless forests, and mountains shrouded in mist.

"The last two drones we sent through made it back with this footage," Harrison said, gesturing to the screen. "The other three we sent haven't returned. We lost their signal about five miles into the other side, near what looked like a massive mountain range."

Ramírez leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "What about the anomalies? Any sign of those dragon creatures Lieutenant McConnell described—the dragons?"

Harrison nodded and paused the video, highlighting a distant, moving shape. The creature was massive, winged, and unmistakably alive. Its wingspan easily rivaled that of a fighter jet.

"We picked up a few of these," Harrison said. "The drones didn't engage, but it's clear these creatures are highly territorial. Judging by their size and the speed at which they move, they pose a significant threat. And McConnell's report on their intelligence hasn't been ruled out. They may be organized, maybe even capable of coordinated attacks."

Moore exchanged a glance with Ramírez. Both men knew the risks—entering a world where hostile, sentient creatures ruled the skies was a gamble, but they also couldn't leave one of their own stranded behind.

"What's the latest on the portal stability?" Admiral Stevens asked, joining the group. He was in charge of overseeing the U.S. Navy fleet that had been mobilized to monitor the portal from the Gulf of Mexico.

Dr. Lawrence, the civilian physicist who had been studying the anomaly, stepped in. "So far, the rift is stable. We've been monitoring its fluctuations, and though it's unpredictable, there's no immediate sign that it will close. That said, we don't know how long it will remain open. It could last for days, weeks, or shut down tomorrow."

Moore nodded. "Understood. We need to act fast."

The room fell into a brief silence as Moore and Ramírez considered their options. The U.S. and Mexican forces had mobilized swiftly, positioning naval vessels around the portal. Standard protocol for an unknown anomaly like this dictated extreme caution—containment first, investigation second, and only in rare cases, a ground operation.

"We can't wait much longer," Moore finally said, breaking the silence. "Hayes has been missing for over 24 hours now. We have enough intel to know the risks on the other side, but we need boots on the ground to confirm his location and assess the situation."

Ramírez crossed his arms. "Agreed. We can't leave him there. But this world—we know next to nothing about it. We need to go in small, fast, and prepared for anything."

Moore turned toward Major General Carter, who stood by the tactical planning board. "General, are the special forces teams ready?"

Carter stepped forward. "Delta Force is prepped, sir. They've been briefed on everything we know so far. We'll be sending in a small team—six men—equipped with enhanced recon gear and survival equipment. They'll be going in light, with the objective of locating Lieutenant Hayes and assessing the area for potential threats."

Moore nodded. "Good. We go in quiet, retrieve Hayes, and get out."

Ramírez spoke up. "Our Mexican Special Forces team will stand by. If anything goes wrong, we'll have a secondary extraction team ready. This is a joint operation—we'll make sure no one is left behind."

Moore appreciated the collaboration. Despite the gravity of the situation, the U.S. and Mexico had moved quickly to establish a united front. The portal was, after all, a global threat—or opportunity, depending on how things played out.

Harrison tapped a few keys, pulling up a map of the other side. "From the drone footage, we've identified several potential areas where Lieutenant Hayes might have gone down. We'll start here, in the forested regions near the base of the mountains. It's the closes that estimated direction where the direction from the signal from his jet was picked up."

Moore studied the map, his mind already calculating the logistics. "What about air support?"

Admiral Stevens spoke. "We'll have fighter jets on standby, but we're keeping them back unless absolutely necessary. Those creatures, the dragons—if they're anything like what McConnell described, sending jets in might provoke them."

"Understood," Moore said, his voice firm. "We keep this operation as low-profile as possible."

Ramírez leaned back slightly, his brow furrowed. "And if those creatures are intelligent? If they're organized, as McConnell reported, what then?"

Moore's gaze hardened. "We'll deal with that if we have to. Right now, the priority is getting Hayes back safely. If it turns out we're dealing with a new species—intelligent or not—we'll adapt. But we can't make that call until we have more information."

Harrison nodded, flipping through a few more screens of drone footage. "Delta Force will deploy in two hours. The team will use drones and ground recon to assess the area before making contact. We'll have constant communication with them as long as the rift stays stable."

The room buzzed with activity as final preparations were made. Outside, U.S. and Mexican naval vessels moved into position, their sleek forms cutting through the waters surrounding the portal. Fighter jets soared overhead, their engines a low rumble against the horizon.

Ramírez turned toward Moore one last time before the mission commenced. "We're about to step into the unknown. I hope we're ready for whatever's on the other side."

Moore met his gaze, his expression unyielding. "We'll be damn ready."

The Delta Force team gathered their gear in the prep room, the low hum of the helicopter rotors already beating in the distance outside. Captain Jake Reynolds, a no-nonsense veteran, finished checking his rifle before standing up. He looked over his squad, each man focused.

"Alright, boys," Reynolds said, strapping his helmet on, "Looks like we're the first boots on the ground in alien territory. Think of it like scouting a new planet."

"Planet or not," grunted Sergeant Derek Coleman, the team's sniper, "I'll bet there's still things trying to kill us. Just our luck."

Corporal Marcus Davis smirked as he locked in his grenade launcher. "Yeah, but at least this time we get to say we're the first idiots dumb enough to step through a rip in the sky."

"First contact, huh?" Lieutenant Sam Mason, the youngest of the team, said as he double-checked his rifle. "I thought that was for astronauts and nerds."

"Well, kid," Ghost replied dryly, "today we're the astronauts. Hope you brought your sense of wonder."

Lieutenant Thomas Anderson, the team's heavy gunner, hefted his M240 and gave a short nod to Reynolds. "We ready to do this, Cap?"

Reynolds checked his watch, then gave a short, sharp nod. "Gear up. Wheels up in five."

Outside, the helicopter—a matte black MH-60 Black Hawk—sat waiting, the blades churning up a steady wind. The team moved out in a practiced line, loading in one by one as the pilots, Captain Wilson and Lieutenant Ortega, gave them a thumbs-up.

"Welcome aboard, gentlemen," Wilson said through the intercom as the last of the Delta operators strapped in. "Hope you packed your postcards."

"Postcards? Nah," Davis said, grinning, "but I brought enough explosives to make a real impression."

The Black Hawk lifted off smoothly, the ground shrinking beneath them as they soared toward the massive rift shimmering in the sky ahead. The air crackled with tension, and no one could quite shake the feeling that this mission was different—dangerous, sure, but something more. Even seasoned warriors like these men felt the weight of traveling into uncharted territories bearing down on them.

As they neared the rift, Coleman broke the silence. "Bet the nerds back home are geeking out about this. Who needs Mars when you've got portals to another world?"

"Yeah, well," Reynolds said, eyes locked on the shifting blue shimmer of the portal, "our job is to make sure they still have a world to geek out in and find some air-force nerd whose stuck on the other-side trying to get away from his wife."

They passed through the rift in a flash of blue light, the helicopter shuddering for a moment as if reality itself had hiccuped. Then, as suddenly as they entered, they were through. The sky on the other side was different—deeper, more vibrant. Below them stretched a vast body of water, then forests, rivers, and mountains, the kind of rugged landscape that might've been drawn by a cartographer from another age.

"Delta One to command, we've passed through. All systems green," Reynolds reported, scanning the terrain from his window. "Proceeding to estimated crash site."

"Copy that, Delta One," General Moore's voice came back through the comms. "Stay sharp. We're expecting the unexpected."

As the helicopter flew over the dense forest, the team fell silent, each man running through his own mental checklist. This was no ordinary drop, no insurgent base or hostile territory they'd mapped out. This was uncharted. And somewhere out there, Major Hayes was waiting for them—if he was still alive.

"Coming up on the crash zone," Wilson said from the cockpit, breaking the tense quiet. "Looks like there's a trail below. Trees are down in a straight line—like something big cut through them."

Reynolds leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he spotted the path below. "Follow it. Let's see where it leads."

The Black Hawk hovered over the forest, following the jagged scar of destruction through the canopy. The trees below were splintered and uprooted, marking a clear path toward the mountains in the distance. But as the helicopter reached the end of the trail, there was no sign of a wrecked jet.

"Trail stops here," Wilson reported. "No sign of the bird."

Reynolds scanned the area from above. "Get us lower. We're going in."

The helicopter descended into a clearing, hovering just above the broken trees. One by one, the Delta team rappelled down, landing silently in the underbrush. Once on the ground, they spread out, rifles at the ready as they began their search.

"Delta One to Black Hawk, we're on the ground. Starting our sweep," Reynolds said, keeping his voice low as the team fanned out.

"Copy that, Delta One," Wilson replied, his voice calm over the comms.

The team moved in formation, each man checking his sector. Ghost scanned the treeline with his sniper scope, while Trigger and Tank moved ahead, checking the ground for signs of the wreckage. Everything was quiet—too quiet.

"Clear so far," Coleman murmured through the comms.

Reynolds was about to report in when Wilson's voice came through again, this time more urgent. "Delta One, we've got movement on the horizon. Multiple contacts—airborne. They're heading straight for us. Fast."

Reynolds stiffened. "Dragons?"

"Unless the local wildlife grew wings and decided to fly in formation, I'd say yeah. You've got maybe two minutes before they're on them."

Reynolds glanced around the forest, the treeline too thick for them to spot anything coming from above. "Black Hawk, you need to get out of here. We'll handle the ground search."

There was a brief pause. "Roger that, Delta One. Good luck."

The sound of the Black Hawk's rotors intensified as the helicopter ascended and peeled away, retreating back toward the rift. The team watched it disappear into the sky, the roar of wings now growing closer by the second.

Reynolds turned to his men, who were already positioning themselves for the worse case scenario. "Spread out. Hold your fire unless we've got no choice. We take cover, then we move when clear."

They took up positions in the foliage, scanning the sky as the shadows of the dragons grew larger, their enormous shapes looming overhead. The hunt for Hayes had just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated.

Emberfang and Emberclaw flew at the head of their squadron, leading a total of forty SkyWings through the skies, the wind whipping past their scarlet scales. Below them, the vast forest stretched endlessly, but their eyes were trained on the horizon, where they last saw the unmoving storm cloud. Emberfang, the elder of the two, kept his expression stern, while his younger sister Emberclaw glanced back at the squad flying behind them.

The sight of their formation—several groups of dragons flying in perfect synchronicity—usually calmed Emberclaw's nerves. But today, unease gnawed at her. Despite their large numbers, the memory of the unmoving storm cloud and the metal creatures they encountered still lingered in her mind. She couldn't shake the thought that they might be heading into something far more dangerous than they expected.

"There," Emberfang said suddenly, his voice cutting through the wind. He pointed ahead with one of his claws. In the distance, a strange black object floated in the sky, unlike anything they'd seen before.

Emberclaw squinted, narrowing her eyes. "Is that…?"

Behind them, several of the squadron commanders noticed the object as well. One of them, a bulky dragon named Ashfall, flew closer to the siblings. "Emberfang, Emberclaw—is that one of the beasts you fought?"

Emberfang studied the object for a moment before shaking his head slowly. "It looks similar… but not the same. The ones we fought were sleeker, and they tore through the sky with much more speed."

"But," Emberclaw added cautiously, "it could still be related. It's best we capture it, ask questions. See if it can talk."

Ashfall grunted in agreement, turning to signal to the other squad commanders. "We'll form up. Better to surround it before it gets away."

The SkyWings fell into formation, splitting into four groups to approach the floating object from different angles. Emberfang's group took the lead, banking to the right to close in from above while the others prepared to trap it from the sides and rear. Their wings beat in unison, the sound like a thunderclap echoing through the air.

As they drew closer, Emberclaw could feel the tension in the air between her and her brother. Both of them were thinking the same thing—this floating object could be linked to the metal creatures that had slaughtered their squad before. The rest of the SkyWings had no idea what they were truly dealing with, but Emberfang and Emberclaw did. They had barely survived their last encounter.

"Do you think it can be reasoned with?" Emberclaw asked quietly, glancing at her brother as they flew side by side.

Emberfang didn't respond immediately. His eyes were locked on the object, studying its every movement. "We'll find out soon enough," he muttered.

Ahead of them, the black object was moving steadily through the sky, seemingly unaware of the approaching dragons. It hovered above the treetops, the strange wings over its head spinning around, chopping through the air like the steady hum of a massive insect. Emberfang could feel his muscles tense. If this was anything like the metal creatures from before, they'd have to be careful.

As they closed the distance, Emberclaw called out to the other squads. "Hold your positions! We'll make contact soon."

The commanders barked orders to their respective groups, ensuring that no one broke formation too early. Forty dragons in tight coordination was a fearsome sight, and they knew their strength was in numbers. Emberfang's mind raced. They couldn't afford to underestimate this thing, whatever it was. He didn't want a repeat of their last encounter.

The helicopter suddenly began to accelerate, its rotors spinning faster as it picked up speed. Emberclaw cursed under her breath. "It's noticed us."

"They're trying to run," Emberfang growled. "Not this time."

Ashfall's voice came over the wind. "Orders, Emberfang?"

"Pursue!" Emberfang roared. "Don't let it escape!"

The SkyWings surged forward, their powerful wings propelling them through the air with startling speed. Emberclaw's heart raced as they neared the object. From this distance, she could see the strange, boxy shape of it—nothing like any creature they had ever seen, but there was an intelligence behind its movement. It was deliberate, controlled.

"Close in!" Emberfang ordered. "Cut off its escape!"

The squads angled in, trying to surround the helicopter. Emberclaw felt the excitement in the air, the hunt driving their instincts. They were SkyWings, masters of the skies, and no creature could outrun them for long.

But as they approached, the object suddenly tilted, banking sharply to the left and diving toward the forest canopy. The move was unexpected, and the SkyWings scrambled to adjust. Emberclaw cursed again, diving after it with her brother.

"It's fast," she muttered, her wings straining to keep up.

Emberfang's eyes narrowed as the helicopter darted through the air, weaving through the trees with precision. "Keep on it!" he shouted to the others.

They dove after the helicopter, determined to catch it before it reached whatever lay beyond the rift. But something about this chase felt different—more dangerous. Emberclaw could feel it in the pit of her stomach.

Captain Wilson knew what he was getting into. Ever since the mission briefing mentioned dragons, he had mentally prepared himself. He didn't fully believe it, not until they crossed the rift and the radar picked up strange aerial phenomena. But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw now—a whole mob of dragons, their massive forms darkening the sky, hurtling right toward them.

Wilson's knuckles turned white as he gripped the controls, forcing himself to keep calm. Beside him, Lieutenant Ortega was glued to the camera feeds, his eyes darting nervously back to the rear display.

"Holy shit, are those—?" Ortega's voice trembled as he pointed at the screen, disbelief etched across his face.

"Yeah, those are dragons. A whole goddamn swarm," Wilson replied, his heart pounding in his chest.

The radar screen flashed ominously, confirming the numbers—at least forty dragons, their enormous wings flapping effortlessly as they closed in with terrifying speed. Wilson's breath quickened, but he forced himself to stay focused. The Delta team was on the ground below, but right now, their own survival took priority.

"Helm, we've got a swarm of fast-moving hostiles on our six," Wilson called over the radio, his voice tight yet controlled. "They're gaining on us. We're heading back to the rift now."

A brief pause crackled through the radio before General Moore's voice came through, steady and commanding. "Understood, Wilson. Get back to the rift ASAP. Naval and air support are ready to engage. Just hold them off as long as you can."

Ortega shifted nervously in his seat, his fingers flying over the instruments. "These things are closing in fast. We can't outrun them for long."

"Just hold it together," Wilson shot back, glancing toward the horizon and the distant shimmer of the rift. "We're getting out of here."

The roar of the helicopter blades intensified as Wilson pushed the throttle forward, banking hard and accelerating toward the rift. The controls vibrated in his hands, and he could hear the faint growl of the dragons behind them growing louder, even over the din of the engines.

"Signal the fleet," Wilson barked. "They need to be ready."

Ortega grabbed the radio. "Ground team, this is Ghost Lead! We've got multiple hostiles—dragons—closing fast. ETA two minutes. Naval and air support, be prepared for engagement!"

The radio crackled again, and General Moore's calm voice cut through the chaos. "Copy that, Ghost Lead. Naval forces are ready with anti-air systems, and air units are on standby. Just get back here!"

Wilson gritted his teeth as the rift loomed larger ahead. It was their only way back, but the dragons were gaining. He could feel the helicopter straining under the pressure as he pushed the engines to their limits.

"Shit, they're gaining!" Ortega yelled, his voice tinged with panic now. "You sure we can make it?"

"Shut up and focus!" Wilson snapped, even though his heart raced in agreement. He risked a glance at the camera feed again—dragons, their massive bodies soaring through the air, were only a few hundred meters behind, closing the gap quickly.

"Just a little further!" Wilson urged, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought to keep the helicopter steady.

The massive forms of the dragons filled the sky behind them, their fierce roars echoing through the air. They weren't just flying—they were hunting, and the chase was on. Wilson's mind raced as he navigated closer to the shimmering portal of the rift, praying they'd reach it before the dragons caught up.

Emberfang's blood boiled as he tore through the sky, wings beating furiously in pursuit of the strange, metal creature ahead. His teeth clenched in frustration, the anger bubbling under his scales. How could something so unnatural—something without flesh, wings, or fire—be faster than him, a Skywing? Skywings were the masters of the air, and the idea of being outpaced by this thing was infuriating.

"What really is that thing?" Emberclaw shouted from behind, her voice barely carrying over the wind. "No scales, no wings... It can't be a dragon!"

Emberfang glared at the object cutting through the sky, a sleek black shape, as it darted toward the strange stormcloud up ahead. "Doesn't matter what it is!" he shouted back. "Whatever this metal creature is, it doesn't get to outrun a Skywing!"

He felt the surge of pride in his chest—the Skywings ruled the skies. Nothing, not even a monster made of metal, was faster than them. The insult of this creature, whatever it was, trying to evade them drove Emberfang harder. His squadron of forty Skywings fanned out behind him, their fiery breath and sharp talons ready to tear through anything that stood in their way.

Emberclaw flared her wings, narrowing her eyes at the strange creature. "It's moving too smoothly, too... unnaturally. Are you sure this isn't some trick?"

"Trick or not, we'll bring it down," Emberfang growled. "Nothing escapes the Sky Kingdom."

The wind whipped at his face as they drew closer to the edge of the unmoving stormcloud, its dark, swirling mass looming ahead like a shadow that didn't belong in their world. Emberfang had seen this storm before. It had brought the other strange creatures, the ones that had slaughtered their comrades. His talons flexed, remembering the blood and fire. This time, though, they had the numbers. Forty Skywings—more than enough to destroy whatever this metal beast was.

He glanced back at the squadron, their orange and red scales glinting in the light as they powered forward. Pride welled in his chest. This was what it meant to be a Skywing—fierce, fast, unstoppable. He'd make sure this creature learned that lesson soon enough.

"We've got it now," Emberfang muttered to himself, his eyes locked on the target. Just a little closer, and they'd bring it down.

As they hurtled into the storm, the air around them thickened with tension. The wind howled louder, and the clouds grew darker, but Emberfang barely noticed. His focus was entirely on the hunt, on the prey just ahead.

Suddenly, they burst through the storm—and Emberfang's eyes widened. Below them was an expanse of dark, open water, littered with massive metal shapes floating on the waves. He blinked. More of these creatures? No, these were different, huge, not flying, but waiting... watching.

Before he could even register what he was seeing, a blinding flash erupted from the sea. Emberfang had no time to react. One moment, he was leading the charge; the next, there was an ear-splitting roar, and his world went white.

Emberfang never even had time to scream as the anti-air missile struck him dead-on. His body was torn apart, wings shredding as the explosion scattered his remains into the sea below.

"EMBERFANG!" Emberclaw's shriek echoed through the sky, her eyes wide in disbelief. In an instant, her brother—her leader—was gone, snuffed out as if he had never existed.

The Skywings behind her faltered, panic rippling through the formation. "What... what was that?" one of the commanders shouted, his voice cracking with fear.

"Keep formation!" another tried to order, but the command was lost in the chaos.

The sky around them exploded with noise. More of those blinding flashes erupted from the metal creatures below, and suddenly, the air was filled with death. Dragons screamed as they were torn from the sky, their bodies exploding in mid-air, their once-proud flames extinguished by forces they couldn't understand.

Emberclaw tried to keep control, her wings beating furiously as she dodged another explosion. "Regroup! We need to—" She didn't finish. One of the Skywings near her was struck by a volley of bullets, his body twisting violently as he was shredded by the firepower from the naval ships below.

The Skywings were in complete disarray. What had started as a confident chase had turned into a slaughter. Panic swept through the ranks. Some dragons, too scared to fight, turned and fled, their wings flapping madly as they tried to escape the storm of fire raining up from the ocean.

"Emberclaw!" a voice shouted. "What do we do?"

She spun, her mind racing. The pride of the Sky Kingdom had never encountered anything like this. These metal monsters—they were merciless. But this wasn't just pride anymore; it was survival.

"Fall back! Retreat!" Emberclaw roared, but her command came too late. Another Skywing near her was ripped apart, his body plunging into the sea. She watched in horror as more of her comrades were struck down, their roars of pain swallowed by the relentless fire from below.

The formation shattered. Dragons scattered in all directions, desperate to flee. Some tried to dive into the clouds, others veered back toward the storm, but they were hunted. Explosions chased them down, and every few seconds, another Skywing fell from the sky in a blaze of light and death.

Emberclaw's heart pounded in her chest as she beat her wings harder, the weight of her brother's death and the massacre unfolding around her pressing down. They had been so confident, so sure of their power. But now, the rest of the Skywings were fleeing like prey.

She glanced back at the storm—at least a few of her comrades were still behind her, but the numbers were dwindling fast.

Emberclaw's wings burned with exhaustion, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to make sense of the chaos around her. The proud Skywings were in full retreat, scattering in all directions, but no matter how fast they flew, it wasn't enough. The metal beasts flames—seemed to come from every direction. She hadn't even fully processed Emberfang's death, the image of his body exploding in the sky playing on a loop in her mind.

And then, from the corner of her eye, she saw them.

More metal creatures—the same ones that had attacked Redclaw's squad, but this time there were even more of them. They moved with precision, cutting through the clouds as if they belonged there.

One of her comrades, a young Skywing with bloodied wings, was flying ahead of her, his eyes wide with terror. Before he could even react, one of the flying metal creatures swooped down with a shrieking roar—faster than any dragon Emberclaw had ever seen. A trail of fire erupted from its side, and in the blink of an eye, the Skywing's body was torn apart mid-flight, raining down in a shower of blood and flame.

"What are those things!?" Emberclaw roared, her voice hoarse with fear and disbelief.

The metal creatures—these new predators—continued their hunt, darting through the fleeing Skywings like they were nothing more than insects. One after another, her comrades fell from the sky.

Emberclaw flapped her wings desperately, trying to dodge the projectiles screaming past her. The sky was alive with chaos. Explosions burst around her, sending shockwaves through the air. She glanced behind her—more and more Skywings were being hunted down, their bodies falling from the heavens like broken toys.

"Fall back! Retreat!" she tried to scream again, but her voice was lost in the storm of noise. Her command was futile; there was no order left. Skywings darted in all directions, panicking, their once-organized formation shattered.

Ahead of her, she saw more of those sleek, flying metal creatures cutting through the clouds like arrows, pursuing the few remaining Skywings with terrifying speed. One dove toward her, a deafening roar in its wake. Emberclaw twisted her body, barely avoiding the trail of fire it spat out. She could feel the heat singe her scales, her heart pounding in her chest.

She couldn't fight this. None of them could. Whatever these creatures were, it was beyond anything any of the dragons of Pyrrhia had ever faced.

"Emberfang…" She whispered his name as she beat her wings harder, a deep ache settling into her bones.

Only a handful of dragons remained in the sky now, their numbers decimated. Emberclaw's breath hitched as she realized there would be no grand retreat—just a desperate race for survival. The pride of the Skywings was in tatters.

Dodging another volley of fire, Emberclaw's gaze locked onto the stormclouds ahead, the swirling portal back to their world. If she could just reach it—if any of them could reach it—they might live to warn the others. But even that hope seemed distant, as more metal creatures darted around them, closing in for the kill.

Emberclaw's wings burned with pain as she dodged another volley of fire, her heart pounding in her chest. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each beat of her wings sending waves of agony through her muscles. The stormclouds, the swirling portal back to their world, loomed ahead, tantalizingly close.

But the metal creatures were relentless, circling like predators, herding the remaining Skywings into their deadly trap. Emberclaw felt a sharp sting on her left wing—a searing pain that cut through her like a blade. She cried out, spiraling uncontrollably through the air, her vision blurring. The ground—or rather, the vast expanse of water below—rushed up to meet her.

With a final desperate flap, Emberclaw tried to stabilize, but her wing wouldn't respond. She tumbled from the sky, crashing into the cold, unforgiving ocean with a deafening splash.

For a moment, there was nothing but the biting chill of the water, shock coursing through her as she was pulled under. She kicked instinctively, fighting to stay afloat. Her wings, heavy and torn, dragged her down, but she fought, clawing her way to the surface. Her head broke through the waves, gasping for air as the world spun around her.

She tried to move her wings, to swim, but the pain was too much. The numbness from the cold was seeping in, her strength draining with every second. She drifted, her massive body buoyed by the waves, her eyes half-lidded as the sea rocked her back and forth.

Emberclaw's vision flickered in and out, the world growing fuzzy around the edges. She could barely make out the distant shapes of her comrades—those who hadn't been torn apart in the air—falling, some sinking into the ocean, others already lifeless. The proud Skywings, her kin, broken and scattered.

But then, through her half-conscious haze, something approached her in the water. At first, she thought it was another metal creature like the ones that had pursued them, but this one didn't fly. It floated on the surface of the water, dark and massive, cutting through the waves with a strange mechanical hum.

Emberclaw blinked, trying to focus. She had never seen anything like it—this was unlike the crude floating wooden bowls the scavengers of her world used. This was something more, a massive, floating fortress made of metal. It moved with unnatural precision, gliding over the water as if the sea itself obeyed its commands.

Suddenly, a large net—or something like it—descended over her, wrapping around her body, binding her wings to her sides. Emberclaw's first instinct was to fight, to struggle, but she was too weak. The pain, the cold, the exhaustion—it all overwhelmed her.

As the net tightened, pulling her slowly toward the side of the metal beast, she caught glimpses of movement atop it. Small figures—scavengers. But they were different from the ones she had seen in the past. These scavengers wore strange armor, sleek and dark, their faces obscured by bizarre coverings—helmets with dark glass over their eyes. They moved with purpose, their gestures quick and efficient, as if this was routine for them. Some wore strange goggles that gleamed in the fading light, while others pointed what looked like tiny metal sticks at her, as if she posed a threat even now.

"Scavengers..." Emberclaw thought, her mind sluggish, barely able to form coherent thoughts. "But... what are they doing?"

She had seen scavengers before, but these... these were different. They were more organized, more prepared. And they were fearless, even in the presence of a wounded dragon. The scavengers she knew would flee in terror, but these ones approached her with strange confidence, as if they had no reason to fear a dragon like her.

The net pulled her closer, and she could hear their muffled voices through the waves and the hum of the metal beast. She couldn't understand their words from all the ringing in her head, but their movements were precise, like they were in command of the situation.

"Are they... capturing me?" Emberclaw wondered dimly, her thoughts growing fainter. She tried to fight the pull, to gather the last vestiges of her strength, but her body wouldn't respond. Her vision blurred, the edges of the world going dark as she was lifted out of the water, helpless.

The last thing she saw before her eyes fully closed were the scavengers, standing above her on the deck of the metal beast, their strange armor gleaming in the pale light. One of them reached out, placing a hand on the side of her snout—tiny, insignificant compared to her massive form.

And then, the world went black.

The Delta squad huddled quietly among the thick underbrush, listening for any sign that the dragons were still nearby. The air was tense, and even though the distant roars of the dragons had faded into silence, no one wanted to be the first to move. The six operators exchanged wary glances, the jungle around them eerily quiet after the chaos of the retreating helicopter.

Captain Reynolds peered through the trees. "Alright, I think we're clear," he whispered. "Time to move out. Let's keep it tight."

One by one, the team emerged from cover, their weapons at the ready as they moved cautiously through the thick forest. Trees loomed overhead, their branches forming a canopy that dimmed the sunlight. The Delta operators began marking their trail with small pieces of biodegradable tape—each piece flashing briefly as it was stuck onto branches or trunks, ensuring they could find their way back to the crash site if necessary.

The forest was dense and unfamiliar, and the stillness was unnerving. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the occasional bird call, but every snap of a twig made them tense, half expecting another dragon to descend from the skies.

"Y'know," Anderson muttered, breaking the silence. "I always figured if we were going to be the first boots on an alien planet, we'd be fighting ET or some kind of weird bug. Not dragons."

"Careful what you wish for, Anderson," Coleman replied, eyes scanning the treeline. "Next thing you know, we'll be seeing space bugs riding dragons."

Davis chuckled lightly. "Wouldn't surprise me at this point."

"Focus, guys," Reynolds reminded them, keeping his voice low. "We've still got to find Hayes."

The group continued their careful advance, moving quietly through the forest. They had no clue where exactly Hayes might be, but they knew the crash site was somewhere ahead. After what felt like an eternity, they reached a small clearing. There, nestled between the trees, was a makeshift campsite, clearly built by human hands.

Mason knelt beside the remains of a firepit. "Looks like someone's been here," he said, the unease in his voice apparent as he inspected the scene.

The campsite was a mess—tents torn apart, supplies scattered across the ground, and the soil churned up as if something massive had thrashed around in the area. The team exchanged looks, instantly realizing that whatever had attacked this place was enormous.

"Definitely not a bear," Coleman murmured, running his fingers along a deep claw mark gouged into the earth.

"Think it was Hayes?" Mason asked, his voice low. "Maybe he had a run-in with one of those flying lizards."

"Could be," Reynolds replied, inspecting a torn tent. "But this place was built by humans. Either Hayes wasn't alone, or…"

"Or there are other people on this planet," Anderson finished, standing up and glancing around the wrecked camp. "Whoever they were, they were unlucky."

As they continued inspecting the wreckage, Reynolds paused. "Check it out, over here," he called softly, motioning for the others to join him.

The team gathered around, where Reynolds stood by a body, crumpled against the base of a tree. It was a young man of what appeared to be African-latino descent, his age appearing to be that of his early 20s, his clothes torn and bloody. His front had been torn open, deep gashes running across his chest and stomach. The boy's body was contorted, as if he had been thrown with great force.

"Jesus…" Anderson whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "What the hell did that?"

"Whatever it was, it didn't leave him a chance," Coleman replied grimly, crouching beside the body to examine the wounds. "Those claws are massive. It's like he was swatted aside."

The man's face was pale, his lifeless eyes staring upward. Mason, who had been silently standing nearby, knelt beside Coleman. "Poor guy didn't stand a chance."

Davis scanned the scene, piecing it together. "There was a fight here. Hayes was probably involved. Maybe he's trying to protect these people from whatever did this."

"These humans must've been living here," Reynolds said, a note of realization in his voice. "This confirms it. We're not alone in this world. These people… whoever they are, they've been here for a while."

"Think Hayes might've run into these dragons too?" Mason asked, standing up and glancing at the torn-up campsite.

"Judging by the state of this camp, I'd say it's possible. Either way, we need to keep moving. If Hayes was involved in this, he's either nearby or on the run himself," Reynolds replied, giving the team a quick nod.

Reynolds stood up, taking in the scene. "We need to keep moving. Hayes could still be nearby."

As the team prepared to move, Coleman knelt by the man's body once more. "We can't leave him like this," he said quietly.

The team agreed. They quickly and respectfully buried the boy, marking the spot with a makeshift cross made from branches.

As they finished, Reynolds wiped the sweat from his brow. "We need to stay sharp. Whatever got him is still out there. Let's keep moving."