Where have the dragons gone, and why is the land dying?
Blue Shark sets out from her distant island home for the continent of Pyrrhia, brimming with excitement and determined to prove herself to her family.
But something is very wrong.
Dragons ar...
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Warmth.
Darkness.
Blue Shark opened her eyes, then immediately shut them again.
No.
Absolutely not.
She refused to believe she was dead.
Perhaps if she lay very still, and very quietly, with her eyes screwed tightly shut, Hades would simply pass her by as he took in the souls of deceased dragons. But there was only silence, and she slowly, carefully, opened one eye.
There it was.
Nothing.
She was dead, and waiting at the gates of the Underworld.
It was pitch black down there, wasn't it?
Feeling strangely dizzy, she tried to raise a talon, to wave it in front of her face, but searing pain shot through her body like fire. Her back arched and she gritted her teeth, biting back a scream. Her wings trembled and she took slow, shallow breaths.
Surely souls did not feel pain. And what was she laying on?
Blue opened her watering eyes as wide as they could go, and blinked once, twice, to clear them. The pain was beginning to fade. Squinting in the darkness, she looked up, not daring to move her head, then down.
Aha.
A sliver of flickering firelight showed on the floor, undoubtedly coming from under a door.
I'm still a mortal after all.
The dizzy feeling increased, and she winced. The world tilted, spun, and tipped her off the edge into a swirl of inky purple dreams.
An owl hooted close outside. Blue's slow, raspy breathing filled the room as she slept.
• • •
When she came to, a fire was crackling merrily somewhere nearby and a strong smell of herbs filled the air. She sleepily rubbed her scaly cheek on whatever softness she was lying on, and opened her tired eyes.
Her vision was blurry, but at least everything wasn't black any more. Thank goodness. Blinking hard, she concentrated, and a dark, slender, dragon's face swam into focus.
She recoiled, hissing at the pain the movement brought. Who was that?
The stranger was a tall IceWing, standing directly beside her. He had a mortar in one talon, and the other was on the edge of the bed, as if he had just approached. A bloody cloth was draped over his arm, as if he had used it to mop up a scarlet puddle.
Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. Was that from me? No, he's too dark for an IceWing. But Creek said IceWings were the ones with the spiny things. Why is his arm wrapped in bandages? Maybe I scratched him in my sleep. That would be funny. Actually, it wouldn't. That's a lot of blood. I hope it's not from my face—am I bleeding on my face? Who is he? He's probably a hybrid. Where am I? His claws are sharp!
