Page 10 of Thauglor (Dragonis Academy Year 3.5 #5)

As we travel, I notice how Klauth’s human form moves differently now.

There’s a brittleness to his posture, a weight in his shoulders that wasn’t there before.

Grief has aged him in ways that centuries of battle never could have.

When we stop to rest, he stares into the distance with eyes that see ghosts.

I want to offer comfort, but what words exist for a loss this profound?

What could I possibly say that wouldn’t sound hollow and meaningless?

I remember visiting Myranda after her third hatching, watching her croon over the large black eggs that would become my daughters.

The fierce protectiveness in her eyes, the way she positioned herself between the nest and even me until she was certain of my intentions.

That’s what Syrax died trying to do—protect what mattered most. The thought that she faced her killers alone, without Klauth there to stand beside her, makes my vision blur with rage.

My mortality feels more fragile now, more precious. If something happened to me, who would remember Korrath’s first roar or Velara’s infectious laughter? Who would tell the stories of their achievements to future generations? The responsibility of memory weighs heavier than armor.

The hideout is a deep, dark cavern carved into seaside cliffs that swallows sunlight by day and probably conceals horrors beyond imagination.

The entrance yawns like a hungry mouth lined with jagged stone teeth.

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below provides a perfect cover for any screams that might echo from within.

Salt spray mists the air, coating everything in a fine layer of brine that sticks to my skin.

Our plan crystallizes with deadly clarity—when the sun rises tomorrow, their time on this earth will end in fire and acid.

When the sun finally breaks over the horizon the next morning, it paints the sky in shades of blood and gold.

We shift and take flight with grim determination.

The transformation burns through my muscles like liquid fire.

We skim close to the water’s surface, so low that my belly scales nearly brush the waves.

Each swell sends salty spray into the air that stings my nostrils and lips like tiny needles.

But the discomfort only fuels my determination.

The pounding of my heart matches the rhythmic crash of surf below, a war drum beating the tempo of approaching vengeance.

I glance at Klauth flying beside me and see something that chills me more than the ocean spray.

There’s no hesitation in his movements, no self-preservation instinct that has kept us alive through countless battles.

He flies like a dragon with nothing left to lose, and that terrifies me more than any enemy we’ve ever faced.

This isn’t just about justice anymore—it’s about a father’s need to make someone pay for silencing voices that will never call him “sire.”

I think of the last message I received from Drakmor, my youngest son.

A simple communication crystal pulsing with his voice: “Father, I’ve claimed the eastern ridge as you suggested.

The hunting is good here. I hope to make you proud.

” Such ordinary words, but they contain the entire world.

Klauth will never receive such messages.

His future died in ash and empty shells, and I can see that knowledge eating him alive from the inside.

I dive in first, a streak of living shadow against the dawning sky.

My form cuts through the air like a blade designed for one purpose.

The wind screams past my ears as I plummet toward the cavern entrance.

I unleash a torrent of acid at the cavern’s mouth, watching with savage satisfaction as it eats into the stone with sounds like a thousand serpents hissing their fury.

The chemical reaction spits and snarls like a wrathful beast consuming everything in its path.

Wisps of acrid smoke rise from the dissolving rock.

For Klauth’s lost progeny. For Syrax’s courage. For every parent who will never have to endure what my best friend endures now. This destruction is a promise written in acid and flame—touch our young, and we will erase you from existence.

I unleash another full breath, flooding the cavern floor with enough acid to melt armor and dissolve bone.

The caustic liquid pools and bubbles, sending up clouds of toxic vapor.

The acrid stench burns my nostrils and makes my eyes water like I’m crying tears of vengeance.

But it’s the sweet smell of justice being served.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Klauth back up several wingspans, smart enough to respect the deadly cloud I’m creating.

When I feel I’ve done all the chemical preparation possible, I hear Klauth suck in a breath that sounds like a bellows feeding a forge.

The sound rumbles through his chest like distant thunder.

When he exhales, the flames consume everything in their path with the hunger of a thousand funeral pyres.

The orange and red tongues of fire lick at the stone walls, turning them cherry red with heat.

The blaze meets my lingering acid with a deafening boom that shakes the very foundations of the cliff.

The concussion hits me like a physical blow to the chest, followed by a flash of light so bright I see spots dancing across my vision like falling stars.

Jagged chunks of rock explode outward with the force of siege engines.

Sharp fragments nick my scales and draw thin lines of blood that I wear like war paint.

The taste of copper fills my mouth as I bite my tongue from the impact.

The explosion throws Klauth backward through the air, and he crashes onto the rubble-littered shore with bone-jarring force.

I watch his limbs tremble as he tries to stand, noting that he’s gained several fresh scars from being too close to our chemical explosion.

Blood seeps from fresh cuts across his wings.

Screams and roars echo from deep within the cavern, bouncing off stone walls until they ring in my ears like the music of the damned.

The sounds of dying enemies fill me with dark satisfaction—this is what happens to those who murder hatchlings and terrorize the innocent.

Each cry of agony feeds the icy fire burning in my chest.

I watch Klauth’s eye twitch with barely controlled fury as he listens to the symphony of suffering.

His pupils dilate with predatory focus. Without hesitation, he hurls another concentrated wave of fire into the cavern mouth, determined to ensure that nothing inside survives to threaten another nest. The intense heat washes over me in suffocating waves, forcing me to step back or risk singeing my own scales in his righteous inferno.

The air shimmers like liquid glass from the temperature.

Thick plumes of black smoke curl out of fissures in the cliff face above the cavern.

The acrid clouds tell me that our fire spreads through internal passages like the wrath of angry gods.

The smoke burns my throat and makes me cough, but I breathe it in like incense at a funeral for our enemies.

With a powerful beat of my wings that sends debris scattering like a stone shower, I ascend to a better vantage point and prepare for the finishing blow.

A moment later, I release another stream of acid that follows my aerial path.

The liquid is thick and viscous as it splatters against stone already weakened by our initial assault.

It hisses and bubbles on contact, eating through rock like hungry acid rain.

Klauth’s fire bellows at the cave entrance again, roaring higher and hotter with this fresh chemical fuel.

The combination creates an inferno that would make the depths of hell seem like a pleasant retreat.

The mixture of our breath weapons creates a self-sustaining reaction that will burn for hours.

The flames dance and writhe like living creatures, consuming everything in their path with insatiable hunger.

Nothing inside this den of traitors will survive to see another sunset.

The warrior in me knows that sometimes the only way to protect the innocent is to become the monster that monsters fear.