Drakonis

We finally reached the lake that led to the entrance of the Drakonis stronghold. The water was a deep, inky black, surrounded by jagged rocks and dense forest. As we approached the shore, the air grew thick with tension. Suddenly, without warning, a whole clan of Drakonis warriors emerged from the shadows, their swords gleaming menacingly in the dim light.

" Vokar, zor serul?" they shouted in a language unknown to us, their voices echoing across the lake. Their eyes were cold and unyielding, their stances aggressive.

(Halt, who are you?)

My mother clutched Olympia tightly, her knuckles white with the force of her grip. She and our father stepped in front of us, their bodies forming a protective barrier. "We come in peace," my father shouted, his voice steady despite the danger. The Drakonis warriors eyed us suspiciously, their swords still poised to strike.

"I sent word to King Draven," my father called out, his tone firm. The warriors did not lower their weapons, their eyes narrowing as they assessed us.

"Allan, shara vhorna duraz il zura," an older man shouted, descending from the sky on the back of a massive dragon. The creature's wings beat the air with a powerful rhythm, creating gusts of wind that whipped through our hair. My siblings and I stepped back, our eyes wide with fear and awe at the sight of the beast.

(Allan, these are our guest from the south)

"Vorian, old friend," the man turned back and said, smiling warmly as he approached. He dismounted from the dragon with a grace that belied his age and embraced my father in a hearty hug. "And these are your offspring?" he asked, his voice filled with glee as he waved at us.

"Thal kor!" He spoke in the native tongue

(Greetings)

We exchanged bewildered glances, the friendliness of the dragon people starkly contrasting with the fearsome stories our grandmother had told us. My father nodded, introducing each of us in turn. "Yes, these are my children. This is Elia, Olympia, Loran and my eldest, Uhroh."

"And then my niece Ashley" he ended as the older man smiled

"She looks just like Ash" he spoke staring at our cousin.

The old man, still smiling, turned to the warriors. "Kalthar shalor vekar," he commanded in their language, and the warriors reluctantly obeyed, sheathing their swords.

(Put your weapons down)

"I am Theron," the old man said, turning back to us. "And this," he gestured to the dragon, "is Aurelian. Do not be afraid. You are very safe here."

Theron led us towards the lake's edge, where a narrow path wound its way along the water and up into the mountains. The path was steep and treacherous, but Draven and Aurelian guided us with ease, their familiarity with the terrain evident in every step.

As we walked, Theron spoke of King Draven and the Drakonis people. "The king has been expecting you," he said. "Your message reached us, and we have prepared for your arrival. The journey to the stronghold will take a few more days, but you will be safe with us."

The further we climbed, the more the landscape changed. The forest thinned, giving way to rocky outcrops and narrow ledges that overlooked the lake below. The air grew colder, and the wind howled through the peaks, but Theron's presence was a constant reassurance.

At night, we camped in sheltered alcoves, Theron regaling us with tales of the Drakonis people and their dragons. His stories painted a picture of a proud and noble people, fiercely protective of their land and their kin. The more he spoke, the more we realized how different reality was from the frightening tales our grandmother had told.