Page 7 of Thauglor (Dragonis Academy Year 3.5 #5)
Chapter Five
I’m jerked from sleep by the thunderous sound of boots hammering down the hallway and frantic shouts that slice through the pre-dawn darkness like blades.
The acrid smell of smoke and fear permeates the air, setting every nerve on edge.
My body moves before my mind fully processes the threat, muscle memory honed by centuries of warfare taking control.
I throw on my fighting leathers with violent efficiency, the familiar weight of hardened hide settling against my skin like armor.
The leather still bears scars from previous battles—slash marks from enemy claws, burn marks from dragon fire, each one a reminder of conflicts survived.
I grab my twin swords from their resting place, the steel singing as it clears the scabbards.
The blades feel like extensions of my own claws, perfectly balanced instruments of death that have never failed me.
Before running to the main part of my chambers, I pause just long enough to catch the metallic scent of blood on the wind. Fresh blood. My people’s blood.
“What’s going on?” I demand as I burst into the central hall, my voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question.
“Shadow dragons, sire. They came out of nowhere,” one of my generals reports, his face pale with the knowledge of what we’re facing.
The words hit me like a physical blow. Shadow dragons—the most treacherous and deadly of our kind, creatures who feast on life force itself and leave nothing but empty husks in their wake.
I hurry toward the surface, my boots striking stone with the rhythm of a war drum.
Every second we waste in discussion is another second my people die above.
“Protect the hatchlings and females!” I roar as I head out into the courtyard, knowing that if we fall, the most vulnerable will suffer first.
As soon as I clear the buildings and feel open sky above me, I shift with explosive force.
My human form dissolves in a cascade of cracking bones and expanding muscle, obsidian scales rippling across my flesh like liquid night.
The transformation sends power surging through my veins like molten metal, every sense sharpening to predatory focus.
How dare they attack my home, my territory, my family?
I launch into the smoke-filled sky and unleash my battle cry—a roar that shakes the very foundations of the mountains and announces to every creature within miles that death has taken wing.
The sound reverberates off the peaks like thunder, carrying with it the promise of retribution for this violation of my domain.
I dive after the closest shadow dragon with the fury of a falling star, my wings cutting through smoke and ash as I close the distance.
The enemy is almost my equal in size, its dark scales seeming to absorb light itself, but its hide is no match for the razor-sharp talons I’ve honed on a thousand battlefields.
We collide in midair with bone-crushing force, the impact sending shockwaves through both our massive frames.
But fighting shadow dragons is never just about physical strength.
Their breath weapon makes them truly dangerous—a necrotic mist that can drain the strength and life force from another dragon, leaving behind nothing but a withered husk.
I’ve seen powerful warriors reduced to empty shells in seconds, their essence consumed to feed these parasites.
Banking hard to avoid a cloud of that deadly mist, I spot the evidence of their feeding frenzy scattered across my territory.
Several husks of my fallen warriors lie at the edge of my domain, their once-proud forms now nothing more than desiccated remains.
The sight fills me with rage so pure it threatens to burn away my tactical thinking, but I force myself to remain focused.
This has been too easy. Shadow dragons fight in large flights, not handfuls of scouts, unless they’re planning something far worse than a simple raid. The realization hits me like ice water—this was a distraction, a way to draw me away from something more important.
Without a second thought, I fly north to search for their primary force, but what I discover is far worse than any army.
The three-mile stretch where I’ve carefully arranged my mating display has been utterly destroyed.
Years of work, countless trophies positioned with precise care to attract a worthy mate—all of it reduced to scattered bone and rubble.
The devastation tears at something deep in my chest, a wound that goes beyond mere property damage.
But worse still are the unfortunate husks of two females lying close to my destroyed display, their life force snuffed out far too soon.
The idea that they killed potential mates, that one of them could have possibly been my destined partner, makes my blood boil with rage so intense the air around me shimmers with heat.
The romantic part of my soul—the part that dreams of finding my other half—screams in anguish at the violation. They didn’t just attack my territory; they attacked my future, my hope, my most carefully guarded dreams.
As I head toward Klauth’s territory, my fury building with each wingbeat, I notice that several of my prized herds have been drained as well.
The cattle I carefully tended to feed growing hatchlings lie scattered across the pastures like broken toys, their life essence stolen to fuel the shadow dragon's gluttony.
Every dead animal represents a hatchling that might go hungry, a future warrior that might starve before reaching maturity.
Fury makes my blood boil as I pump my wings harder, heading toward my greatest ally’s territory with desperate urgency.
I roar several times as I get within range; the sound echoes off the mountains to alert his people to my arrival.
Each roar carries layers of meaning—distress, rage, a call for aid that no dragon can ignore.
When I reach the northern edge of his territory, where I can see his castle perched like a crown of stone and steel, I roar once more and begin circling in tight, agitated patterns.
I’m far too angry to get any closer to his people, too close to losing control and potentially harming innocents in my rage.
The fury burns under my scales with each pass I make over the forest canopy, my massive form casting shadows that send ground creatures scurrying for cover.
With every single flap of my wings, I curse every shadow dragon and their twisted ancestors back to the dawn of time.
They will pay for this violation — pay in blood and fire and screaming agony.
I roar again, this time using the ancient dragon tongue to tell Klauth what happened—my display destroyed, the herds that feed our hatchlings slaughtered, females murdered on my very doorstep.
The words carry across the miles like a funeral dirge, heavy with loss and bright with the promise of vengeance.
Klauth launches from his castle with urgent force, his crimson scales catching the afternoon light like polished rubies as he takes flight toward me. Even from a distance, I can see the tension in his form, the coiled power of a predator preparing for war.
We speak in low rumbles that vibrate through our chests and resonate in the very air around us, our conversation a symphony of bass notes that lesser creatures feel in their bones.
We strategize about the shadow dragons with the precision of generals planning a campaign.
They are malicious and cunning creatures who rely on treachery as much as brute force, striking from the darkness and feeding on the life essence of their victims.
Yet between his towering strength and my unyielding fury, we hold significant advantages.
Still, the age of their den gnaws at me like a persistent wound.
If they are ancient, if their lair holds secrets and defenses accumulated over millennia, this mission may be far more dangerous than we’ve planned for.
Together, Klauth and I execute our plan with the precision of partners who’ve fought side by side for centuries.
He climbs high into the bright afternoon sky, sunlight glaring off his crimson hide like polished armor.
Then he dives with breathtaking speed and releases a torrent of flame that turns the world below into hell itself.
Fire dances across the treetops with hungry tongues, devouring the dark pockets below where shadow dragons hide from the light they despise.
The heat from his flames creates updrafts I ride like invisible highways as I circle in next, my massive wings stirring hot gusts that buffet the forest with hurricane force.
My acid breath spews forth in a concentrated stream of destruction, melting ancient tree trunks and scorching the undergrowth until nothing remains but steaming devastation.
The sound is magnificent—the hiss and crackle of organic matter dissolving under the kiss of concentrated death.
The acrid smell of melting wood and burning vegetation fills the air, mixed with something else that makes my nostrils flare with savage satisfaction.
Below, Klauth spots a cavern entrance partially hidden by twisted roots and hanging moss, where my acid drains into darkness like a river of destruction seeking its ultimate destination.
A guttural growl rattles in my chest as realization dawns.
This must be their stronghold, their hidden sanctuary where they’ve been planning their assault on my territory.
I rumble in agreement; the sound shaking the very skies above us and sending smaller creatures fleeing in terror.
I swoop in closer, my massive form blotting out the sun as I unleash another stream of acid that floods the cavern entrance.
The liquid death pours into their sanctuary like judgment itself, and the agonized roars that echo from within send a dark thrill coursing through my veins.
The moment I retreat to a safe distance, Klauth exhales a concentrated wave of flame onto the lingering acid with precise timing that speaks to our years of partnership.
Sunlight flashes against the sudden chemical reaction, and an explosion roars into a blazing column that reaches toward the heavens like a pillar of divine wrath.
The impact sends me reeling backward through the air, my claws scrabbling for purchase in the super-heated atmosphere as a raw, acrid odor invades my nostrils.
The smell is intoxicating—destruction and chemistry combining into something beautiful and terrible.
I exult in the discovery that my acid is highly flammable when properly ignited.
We exchange excited rumbles of satisfaction, our voices harmonizing in deadly promise.
This is a tactic definitely worth using again.
With the smoldering den behind us and the screams of dying enemies fading into memory, I lead Klauth to a rocky outcropping that overlooks the chaos we’ve created. The stone is still hot beneath my claws from the explosion’s heat, radiating warmth that feels like a forge beneath my scales.
Thick plumes of black smoke twist skyward like serpents of shadow, staining the bright afternoon with evidence of our retribution.
I settle beside Klauth with predatory grace, my obsidian scales contrasting with his brilliant crimson hide.
His long horns cast jagged shadows on the heated stone as we watch the caverns burn with the intensity of a thousand funeral pyres.
Somewhere deep inside me, in some dark corner of my soul where the romantic dreams of finding my mate, a savage part feels pleased beyond measure.
They violated my territory, destroyed my carefully crafted displays meant to attract the love of my life, and murdered innocents who might have been my salvation from loneliness.
Now they burn, and the smoke rising from their destruction carries my message to any other shadow dragons foolish enough to consider similar attacks: Blackhaven is protected by forces they cannot comprehend, defended by a love so fierce it will reduce enemies to ash and memory.
The romantic in me whispers that perhaps this destruction clears the way for something better, someone worthy of the displays I’ll rebuild with even greater care.
My mate, wherever she is, will never have to fear these particular monsters.
And that knowledge fills the empty spaces in my chest with something that might just be hope.