Page 8 of Thauglor (Dragonis Academy Year 3.5 #5)

Chapter Six

Klauth and I spend hours discussing the future of dragonkind in his private study.

Our voices stay low and contemplative as we debate rumors of other species mixing with dragons.

The leather chairs creak under our weight.

Flames dance in the fireplace, casting shifting shadows across ancient maps that tell stories of territories won and lost over centuries.

The smell of old parchment and burning wood fills the air.

How would such unions even work? After much debate, we conclude it would only succeed if the female is a dragoness. Either the eggs would be viable hybrids, or they wouldn’t develop at all.

The philosophical discussion feels important—a glimpse into a future where our kind might need to adapt or face extinction. But those theoretical concerns vanish the moment we step outside.

I walk Klauth out of the extended family quarters.

Our boots echo against stone corridors that have witnessed generations of dragon politics.

Suddenly, his head whips up with predatory alertness.

His nostrils flare as he catches something on the wind.

The scent sends ice water through my veins—thick, acrid smoke that speaks of destruction and death.

Something burns nearby. The smell carries an undertone of malice that makes my scales prickle beneath human skin.

Klauth roars with volcanic fury. The sound reverberates off the walls as he breaks into a dead run.

He shifts mid-stride with violent efficiency.

His human form explodes into crimson dragon scales and massive wings.

Someone dared to ignite something in his territory.

Someone violated the sanctuary he built for future generations.

I give chase, launching myself into the air behind him.

My transformation tears through flesh and bone with familiar agony.

The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth as bones crack and reshape.

As we break the horizon, the world drowns in hellfire.

The entire landscape glows with an unnatural orange light.

Smoke columns rise like pillars supporting a sky painted in shades of red and amber. The acrid smell burns my throat.

Wyverns and shadow dragons work in coordinated attacks to torch his entire territory. Their dark silhouettes move against the burning chaos below like demons against flame.

We separate immediately, falling into battle formations honed by decades of partnership.

While he flies toward the heart of his territory to protect the most valuable assets, I position myself to block any chance of escape.

No enemy will flee to report our capabilities or return with reinforcements.

I unleash my acid breath on several wyverns in a wide arc of destruction.

The caustic liquid sears through the air with a hissing sound.

I watch with savage satisfaction as their melting corpses fall from the sky into heaps of bubbling flesh and shattered bone.

The acrid smell of dissolving organic matter fills the air.

It mixes with smoke to create a nauseating cocktail that speaks of death and chemical warfare. The bitter taste coats my tongue.

Each pass doesn’t feel like enough. For every enemy I eliminate, three more emerge from hidden positions among the rocks and trees. Wyverns breed faster than dragons and produce larger clutches. They make perfect cannon fodder for shadow dragon masters who care nothing for the lives they waste.

I do everything possible to keep damage away from the academy.

I dive between enemy formations and the buildings that represent our hopes for the future.

The new structure stands as a beacon of progress amid the chaos.

Their walls remain unmarked by the violence raging around them.

We fight the invaders well into the early morning hours.

Our roars echo across the mountains like thunder from an endless storm.

The sound reverberates in my chest, vibrating through my bones.

By daybreak, we kill or drive off the last of the shadow dragons and wyverns.

Bodies litter the landscape like macabre decorations.

Their twisted forms serve as testament to the price of challenging our territory.

But a small contingent breaks away during the confusion.

They vanish into the darkness like wraiths returning to whatever hell spawned them.

Klauth and I land between the dragon and mixed-species dormitories—the heart of the new academy where future warriors will learn to defend our kind.

Our massive forms create tremors that shake the ground.

Each heavy footfall disturbs ash and debris.

The academy itself bears only minor damage.

Its walls stand strong and proud despite the night’s violence.

The stone feels warm under my claws, heated by the fires that raged around it.

But his fortress suffers greatly. Several exterior walls collapse inward like broken teeth.

One tower teeters on the edge of complete destruction, threatening to shatter the foundations his family built over centuries of careful planning.

Flames still lick the ruined stone with hungry tongues.

The heat radiates against my skin like a bitter reminder of everything we’ve lost. The smell of charred stone mingles with sulfur and smoke.

I slap Klauth on the shoulder with more force than necessary. The sound echoes like an explosion in the smoky air. “We did good, old friend,” I say as we watch flames dance over what remains of his stronghold like funeral pyres for his ambitions.

“We did,” Klauth replies. His voice is tight with fury that threatens to break free at any moment. “Thank you for your help.” He shakes my hand with a grip that could crush stone. His eyes fix on the rubble that was once his pride.

My gaze drifts north toward the distant mountains.

Something wrong catches my attention—a glow that shouldn’t be there.

Smoke rises from a place that should be safe.

The distant orange light flickers against the dawn sky like a malevolent star.

I point toward the peaks with a trembling finger. “What’s that?”

“The nest...” Klauth whispers. His voice is hoarse with dread that cuts through the morning air like a blade.

The words hit him like physical blows. I watch the color drain from his face as understanding dawns.

He roars with the anguish of a father who knows he’s failed.

The sound summons his strongest warriors with a call that speaks of desperate urgency.

Mid-stride, he shifts again, propelled by fury and terror in equal measure.

I follow behind him. My transformation is violent and immediate as I flap my wings as fast as possible to keep up with his desperate flight.

He bellows Syrax’s name repeatedly. The sound carries across the mountains like prayers to uncaring gods.

He hopes for any reply—a weak cry, any sign that she and their unborn progeny still live.

But there remains only silence. A bleak, endless silence that burns in my ears like acid and tells me everything I need to know about what awaits us.

The lack of response crushes something in my chest. I know without seeing that the delicate crystal dragoness didn’t survive what she was never trained to face.

As we near the nest, the carnage becomes undeniable.

Wyvern corpses litter the foothills like broken dolls.

Their bodies stay pierced by grotesque crystal formations that sprout from their chests and pin them to the rocky ground.

The crystals catch the morning light, refracting it into rainbow patterns across the blood-stained stone.

Syrax fought back with her crystal breath weapon, impaling at least half a dozen attackers before being overwhelmed.

But her defensive abilities were never meant for warfare on this scale.

I watch Klauth land on the rock face with bone-jarring force.

His claws scrape against stone as he scrambles upward toward the nest with desperate urgency.

The sight that greets us is gruesome beyond description.

The bitter taste of iron fills the air so thickly I can barely breathe.

I circle several times with methodical precision, making sure no enemies remain alive to threaten us while we’re vulnerable.

The sight of what remains of the female called Syrax turns my stomach with revulsion and pity in equal measure.

The odor of burned flesh and decaying scales overwhelms my sensitive nostrils, making my stomach clench with nausea.

There, curled protectively around the nest she died defending, Syrax lies shriveled and withered—as if centuries passed in an instant.

Her once-beautiful crystalline scales now appear dull and cracked.

Her elegant form is reduced to a husk by shadow dragon breath weapons.

The crystals that once sparkled like diamonds now look gray and lifeless.

She stood no chance against their life-draining attacks. My heart aches at this waste of potential life, at the hatchlings who died before they could even draw breath. Those innocent young deserved better than this brutal end.

Klauth violently shifts back into human form.

His transformation appears more brutal than I’ve ever seen as bones crack and muscles tear with his urgency.

The wet sounds of reshaping flesh echo off the rocks.

I watch in growing horror as he scrambles toward her remains.

His hands shake as he reaches for what’s left of her and their progeny.

I land nearby and shift back to human form, waiting to provide whatever support I can for my best friend and closest ally in his darkest moment. The weight of shared grief settles over us like a shroud, heavy and suffocating in the morning air that still tastes of smoke and death.

His hands find the nest. I see his face crumble as the truth becomes undeniable.

They’re gone. Drained completely of life until nothing remains but empty shells.

One hatchling broke halfway out of its shell in a final, desperate attempt at life, but even that small victory was stolen.

I watch as it crumbles to ash in his trembling hands.

Its potential is lost forever. The fine ash slips between his fingers like sand.

A weak cry chokes him. The sound tears from his throat like a wounded animal’s death rattle. Losing his first progeny is a blow neither of us was prepared for, a wound that will never fully heal. I approach slowly, my head lowered in respect for the dead and the dreams that died with them.

Somehow, I hold out hope that at least one egg might have survived the assault. Maybe some small mercies might exist in this cruel world. But when I take in the full scope of the damage, my heart plummets like a stone into dark water.

“Oh no...” The words escape me as a whisper of pure despair.

Syrax’s remains crumble to ash as the wind picks up.

It scatters her essence into the sky she once loved to soar through.

The gray particles dance on the breeze like snow made of sorrow.

Klauth cradles what’s left of his progeny, watching their potential slip through his fingers like silt carried away by an uncaring breeze.

No words exist that could adequately address what he’s trying to process.

No comfort could ease the magnitude of this loss.

“She fought well,” is all I can think to say to my friend. I place my hand gently on what remains of the nest that should have been a cradle for the future. The broken shells feel rough and brittle under my palm. “She took many of them down before she fell.”

“She did what any good dragoness would do—defends her clutch with her life,” Klauth’s voice trembles with barely contained emotion. The words carry the weight of respect for duty fulfilled, acknowledging the courage of someone who faced impossible odds to protect his progeny.

Out of respect for his lost progeny, I move fallen stones with careful reverence to bury the shattered eggshells.

I create a small cairn that will mark this place of tragedy.

Each stone feels heavier than the last, weighted with the knowledge of lives that will never be lived.

The rough granite scrapes against my palms. “What now?” I ask, though I already know the answer burning in his eyes.

Fury surges through him again, hot and all-consuming like molten metal in his veins. “Hunt down every last shadow dragon and wyvern. Drive them to extinction,” Klauth snarls. His voice carries the promise of retribution that will shake the foundations of the world.

The idea of vengeance for the fallen hatchlings makes my black war faring heart flutter with anticipation and bloodthirsty glee.

These enemies took something irreplaceable.

They violated the most sacred bonds of family and future.

“Then let’s make a plan,” I say. My voice is steady despite the rage building in my chest. “I’ll help you burn it all down. ”

A significant chance exists that we won’t make it back alive from what we’re contemplating.

The scope of destruction we’re planning will require us to face entire armies.

We’ll challenge species that have survived through cunning and cruelty for millennia.

But considering all that happens, considering the senseless death of four innocent hatchlings who never had a chance to see the world, I want to watch that world burn in tribute to their memory.

My heart mourns for the innocent lives lost before they could begin. I grieve for the hatchlings who never had a chance to prove their worth. But the warrior in me demands blood payment for these losses. It demands that the skies rain fire until every enemy is ash on the wind.

We will have our vengeance. And when we’re done, the very name of shadow dragon will be nothing but a whispered memory of a species that dared to murder defenseless young.