Dark Fall (3rd Book)

Chapter 13: A Clash of Blue and Black

Her wings flapped steadily, pushing the wind's arms aside as she flew gracefully through the dark sky, her eyes of the purest colors scouring the land, and then the forests and the mountains, some so high that their tips reached out to her snout, as if greeting her to some sort of sanctuary.

To her, she thought of these jutting rocks as the bones of this world, and without the mountains, Magnus would seem terribly barren and weak, stripped of the riches they hold even.

Even at such a high altitude, the wind was nothing short of a flowing comfort to her, instead of a nuisance, and she already knew why even at this, there was no fog, no clouds, and no mist to be lost within, a sheer challenge for freedom.

All the way, she took note of the sleeping demon astride her, a being that even when graced with the most corrupted powers and skills, still has the need to sleep and eat and drink, but what their food was became lost to her.

Possibly meat, and their drink, blood. Or maybe they eat their own kind like the traitorous scum that they are.

She knew how easy it all was, how painfully easy it just was to throw him off her back, send him hurling back to the ground, and his lips crashing against the earth in a final kiss of fatal power and beauty, as shards of red and white fly outwards his body, his bones crushed, his life sucked, and his essence diminished to none.

And yet, whatever power that befell her had wholly dominated, and it was as if her wings were not hers anymore, rather, they were of the demon lord's as he steered them past the lonely rocks, the weeping willows and the babbling brooks, all tarnished by the blood moon's glare.

She felt her wings, she felt them beat against the air, feeling the smooth fingers of the invisible wind caressing her soft membranes, flowing past as her thrill bounded forward with each flap she took.

Yet, it felt like it was all a mirage, an illusion that tricked the mind that was hers and hers only, and lo and behold, the trickster to have done such an act was none other than the Lord of Shadowy Death.

It had already started since the da... dusk of this world, and when Nemyctor's placed his hand on her snout, he seemed to have whispered some words, words she cannot hope to decipher, let alone understand.

Somehow, as if the past haunted her, the circle had been completed, and yet now, she was the one stranded on the other side, helpless and pained.

And since then, her strenght has dwindled next to none, an outright shame to her species, and again, the temptation, the agonizing feeling of the wanton lust, to just throw him off, to see his screams echo through mountains' sides, the insults and the oaths and the curses reverberate through the air as he fell to his inevitable death, a passing that would bring her great joy, if only to rid this world of one less evil.

She banished everything from her mind, and focused on the cliffs and crags that called for a bloody future. I am a dragon, I should start acting like one, not some mortal with too poignant of a past, too pathetic to even raise her head!

She turned her head as far as she could have gone, looking to the demon stuck to her saddle, magically glued to it his long hair fell down on him in a shower of black, hiding his hideous and twisted features. She focused back to her front, and barely evaded the mountain side from scraping her left wing. "Why was I cursed with this, and then blessed? To have wandered the world for centuries, learning the humans, the elves and the dwarves, the saeltoren, and many others, and yet, to be held down in chains as this same world is ravaged by forces too powerful for one man to defeat, even a god?"

She dipped low to the ground, seeing black columns of smoke rising high from miles away, the work of dwarven machinery, dwarven smiths, and their almighty furnace buried deep within the earth, and she remembered how much they desired the reaches and unknowings of Magnus, much like her kind's own curiosities.