The Knight Who Breathed Fire

• {Flames in Her Blood} •

For Mia, because she believed in a girl who wanted to write about dragon shapeshifters, first.

[ i. ]

THIS ERA OF ANCIENT WORLD does not do well in forgetting the beauty of its roots; entangling and tripping the present and anything with the audacity to forget that this thriving system, which is blossoming and becoming more, could not begin without its foundation.

Maya Nyx has tripped enough loose wires to know her place.

She always found it terribly fascinating how interconnected every aspect of this design is. How the system does not fail to remind her of the reign she holds in their chain of broken machinery and tanks of melted grenades.

Centuries may exist seamlessly in her veins, but her world is now; it is current, and is slipping like liquid time. Fortunately, her heart bleeds undulated, reminding her that history is etched into the very fabric of her body.

However, with the haze of fire erupting from her chest diabolically, red encompassing her senses in more than sliced skin, she knows that even if she wished to burn the scrolls written into the paper of her bones, it is futile.

For the birthmark on her chest is permanent, mystique, and beastly.

This war often has the prince pinned for a saviour, but Maya (crackling irises and elongated fangs) is just a knight stuck in the wrong body. An exchange of a sword for wings the circumference of the Earth, she is a warrior with scales to collect as trophies and magma coating the inside of her tonsils. She is a dragon, a demon, and a beast with the taste for freedom.

And in this war—a catastrophe with saccharine lungs and ripping oaths—she must fight cold-blooded demons with her own talons, and hope the fire inside of her doesn't die out.

[ •∞• ] 

I just wrote 40K in four days so cut me some slack for grammatical/punctuation errors.