A dragon and its rider were tethered in life. To separate one from the other would be death.
Only Talons possessed the natural ability to master a bond with such a beast, a rare benefit of being a halfling caught between the bloodlines of serpent and humankind.
Yet, as Loranna dismounted from Cannibal's rigid spine and stepped onto the rubble and debris of Port Haradem, she quickly distanced herself from the creature. Hot steam surged from Cannibal's nostrils and billowed through Loranna's hair. She put a hand on the top of her head, securing the red veil in place, as she stepped towards the burning ruins of the Deja Vu Tavern.
Not even a Talon could tether with the unnatural.
Pirate residents took to the streets, their voices wielding fear and heartache under the oppression and savagery of unwelcomed dragon fire. Civilians pulled neighbours from shop wreckages while mothers gripped their children tightly against their chests and plunged into the water to avoid the deadly flames.
Sailors clutched bags of gold and jewels and ran for the refuge of their ships, desperate to save their fortunes.
Bang! Bang!
Gunshots were exchanged in the night.
With her palace gown replaced with form-fitting armour strengthened with dragon scales, Loranna entered the tavern and approached the bar while inhaling the thick smug of burnt flesh and cinders.
Behind her, two shadows appeared in the doorway. The red fire quickly revealed their obscured faces: a man and woman of Talon descent. They silently walked through the Deja Vu, wearing identical dragon-scale armour and clutching the black hilts of long dual rapier blades.
"Daughter Forsaken," one spoke, "the city is secured. Any ship desiring to leave the island has been destroyed, and the dragons are performing perimeter flights to prevent renegades from evading our borders. No one can escape."
Loranna dragged her finger over the bar counter and turned to face the others.
"Brother Forsaken, search the dead for a she-elf, a dwarf, and-
Loranna paused and rekindled the strength in her voice.
"A Talon," she said. "Our spies describe meetings between these traitors in this tavern. If they lie among us, collect and prepare the remains to be returned to Mother. Sister Forsaken, find me a survivor."
Brother Forsaken nodded and investigated the corpses scattered on the floor. His tall, imposing muscular frame bent forward and examined the faces of the deceased, their bodies layered on top of each other in a failed attempt to shield the most vulnerable from the carnage. Brother's amber eye, framed in a diamond pattern of red scales pierced into his black skin, brightened, while the other half of his complexion remained in darkness.
The search was quick and efficient, Sister Forsaken finding pleasure in her discovery as she lifted the head of a woman pinned under the weight of a structural wooden beam with the tip of her blade.
"I found one."
The woman's breaths quickened the longer she stared into Sister's gaze, purple scales eating away at the olive skin around the Talon's singular blazing eye.
Loranna kept a regality in her posture as she approached the dying human, her features obscured behind the red veil.
"You are dying, child of man," she said. "Nothing will save you from this fate. Your final words await to be spoken. Tell me the truth, and I can ease your transition."
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RISEN | ONC 2024
FantasyA boy born with Serpentblood. An exiled dwarf in pursuit of his destiny. A she-elf guided by a religious prophecy. Together, they must rise to find the coveted Light of the World, a saviour who promises to tip the scale of waging Spiritual War in t...
