19 The Tide Turns

The stone golem’s giant fist slammed down, snowflakes burst like shattered stars, and a thin white mist unfurled across the floor.

The golem stared at its own knuckles in grim silence, as if ready to behold the Little White Dragon crushed beneath its mountain weight.

The fog thinned, and out stepped not Lilith mangled and bloody, but a tall figure with a great hammer, both hands braced, meeting stone with iron resolve.

“C-Comander?” Lilith didn’t wipe the blood streaming over her brow; red swam in her vision as she stared at the black, towering silhouette.

The Knight Commander heard the Little White Dragon’s call, turned beneath his thick helm, and a stubbled, square jaw showed a smile steady as a hearth flame.

He swung, the hammer barking, batting the golem’s fist aside; he bent, hooked Lilith with one arm, and hauled the little dragon away from the room’s stormy heart.

The golem had barely shrugged off the snow when the blizzard rose again; fresh drifts swallowed it like ice chains, and it had no breath left for chasing.

“Put… put me down.” Lilith was set in a corner; the Little White Dragon sagged against cold stone, lungs burning like bellows in winter.

She fished out a roll of bandage and a few squares of cotton, splashed her face with a puddle’s meltwater, then wrapped her head without a second thought.

Her sight cleared, but dizziness swayed like waves in a storm; a stone that size to the face meant concussion felt almost inevitable.

A stabbing ache tightened her upper belly; ribs screamed like wind-strained rafters, but the breaks hadn’t shifted much, and she could only trust dragonkin blood to knit.

Since the Hero and Saint powers vanished, her healing prayers felt thinned; the light worked, then faded by a timer, and old wounds returned like stubborn ghosts.

It was enough in a fight. Lilith shut her eyes and prayed to Icarus; white light rose from the dim sigil on her brow and cloaked her small frame.

Wounds ebbed like tide leaving wet sand. She gripped the wall and stood, eyes fixed on the huge golem trapped in her own howling blizzard.

She knew now: after a guard, Shattered Ark could crush the core once the golem threw a stone and fell into weakness.

But she wasn’t sure Shattered Ark could pierce that hide when it wasn’t weakened; a reckless rush would turn the wind against her.

The big lump moved quicker than she’d thought, a boulder with a hawk’s twitch; and once the prayer faded, she couldn’t sprint wild—every motion had to stay tight.

She had to bait the giant into a throw, yet not get nailed; not simple, since its stones flew with crooked, trickster paths.

It liked to throw only after pinning her legs; luring a patient hunter demanded a sharper game than brute force.

Huff! The Knight Commander’s left hand landed on her shoulder; the sudden weight startled her heart like a bird from snow-laden branches.

She looked up. The black phantom wore a goofy, honest grin and gave a thumbs-up at his bristling, stubbled jaw.

“You mean you’ll take it?” Lilith understood; as her toughest shield, with the right timing, the Knight Commander could swallow the golem’s strike whole.

She still hated throwing her phantoms back into the fire; the worry rustled like dry reeds, but the storm wouldn’t wait.

Huff! The Commander slapped her back, a rough drumbeat, grumbling like distant thunder.

“You’re the fussy one—your whole family’s fussy.” She almost toppled, pain flaring bright; she glared at the innocent act and snapped, “Fine. It’s on you. Hit that stone brute hard.”

Roar! The Knight Commander lifted his heavy hammer, and joy rang out like a hunting horn in frost.

Lilith timed her move to the last heartbeat before the blizzard thinned; she slipped from the corner, hopped to where she’d fallen, and scooped up sword and staff.

“Frost Ray!” She raised the staff and lanced the golem’s chest; fresh from the storm, it reeled as thin ice bloomed across its granite plate.

“Again!” She speared its right foot; even frozen stone needs a beat to break free, and she wanted that single breath of sky.

As it wrenched its right leg up, Lilith was already under its shadow; she lifted Shattered Ark and cracked the crown with a clean, ringing tap.

A guard-triggered Broken Sword surged like a spark in dry timber, carving a shallow line along its right arm’s rough grain.

The Little White Dragon planted both boots on its shoulder, clenched Broken Sword, and leaped; she hung before its face like a pale moth in moonlight.

Skull stung, the golem glared up; dark violet light flared like stormfire, and it tore out a stone, hugged it, then hurled it straight at Lilith.

“Now! Commander!” Her cry cut sharp; the tall black silhouette flashed behind her, and the Knight Commander hammered down.

The heavy blow met the flying block; it slammed back like a broken comet, and the golem took its own weight full in the chest.

The giant toppled, a felled cliff; the little dragon dove, drove Shattered Ark, and split its chest wide along the seam.

“Hey!” Lilith raised Shattered Ark high and brought it down; the golem’s core shattered like brittle ice at dawn.

The golem wailed, a mournful wind through hollow caves, then crashed onto its back and lay utterly still.