Prince of Fire | Dragonfire Book One

Capitolo Ventisette

The fifth dragon that came from the Fire was the Illusionary, who could manipulate visual senses and create mirages.

~ Draconic Book of Songs

Chapter Twenty Seven

Dante felt like he was drowning in a pool of sorrow and guilt and anger.

He had fucked everything up.

He should have tried harder to find Dracula before his enemy laid his hands on the Jade Chalice and before he laid his hands on Elena. Elena. Dante's heart clenched again. Dracula had hurt her, and who-knew-what-else he had done in that abandoned warehouse because Elena had refused to tell him what happened or even talk to him at all. And then Elena had turned her back on him, although rightfully so if he were being honest with himself.

He sucked in his breath, feeling the liquid fire rise up his body and through his snout, and he lit the small tree on fire. Dante released a cathartic roar with his flames and dug his talons into the moist soil and foliage beneath him. Tiny creatures scattered everywhere from the ruckus he was making. A small part of him was thankful that he was on Finn's secluded land, so that no human, or dragon, could see his temper tantrum.

He had failed. But he would correct that.

Dante exploded from the ground and into the night sky. He didn't even have a destination in mind, but anywhere was better than sitting and lamenting over his failure. No, he had to atone for his mistake and hunt down the most notorious rogue of all dragonkind, like he had been assigned to do and should have spent more effort to complete his mission.

Dracula, he snarled through the mind link and sliced through the air. Where are you, you bastard?

Surprisingly, Dracula answered back immediately with a smug response. We all know I'm no bastard, Prince.

Rage lit Dante's entire internal state, but hidden beneath it was a speck of guilt and sorrow. He tried to smother those stubborn specks to no success. Where are you? Dante demanded again. His nostrils flared and his talons curled slightly. Even his tail was tense from anticipation.

A dark chuckle echoed down the link. Why would I ever answer that question?

Why did you answer my call at all then?

Because I want to feel your agony, traitor.

Dante laughed back humorlessly. That's rich coming from you, rogue.

Thief. Imposter. If we are resorting to insults, General.

Ghosts of the messy and pain-filled past swirled in Dante's mind. Zara's death. Dracula's rage and banishment. Sephaline's grief and Eon's disappointment. Chaos in the hierarchy.

That may be true, but it was all because of your actions, Dracula, Dante retorted. You could've avenged her and stopped, but you kept slaughtering humans. You can only blame yourself for your fall.

You have no idea what you're talking about. Dracula seethed from wherever he was. If only Dante could track locations through the mind link, this debacle could have ended ages ago. At least the establishment of the link indicated that they were within a reasonable distance from each other, so Dracula was still in the province of British Columbia or near the edge of Alberta. But that barely narrowed his search, so Dante continued flying over nearby sleeping cities.