Curse of the Stars Book 1

Chapter 2

Chapter II

Stygian glanced at the cold ground; it was only autumn but already frost covered it in a thin silver sheen. Tree leaves faded from green and their tips curled from the cold; trying to keep themselves warm and eventually drifting off the tree as they fell into their sleep where they would surely disappear.

She hadn't known much about Wishing Dragons but she supposed she had heard of them maybe once or twice—though at the time she never asked what they were or where they came from. She definitely never knew that they could create curses on anyone who tampered with them! Then again, if her mother's stories were true then it had already been a curse to attack any dragon, not just the Wishing Dragons.
She had run away from home at the first sign of her scales darkening, for she had not wanted anyone to know. She had been grieved and terrified, and much too ashamed to ever face her mother. Her mother had never come looking for her, or perhaps she had. Most dragons did not care to look for their children if they ran off; it usually represented a sign of independence, or they believed a predator to have eaten them.

A chilly wind rippled across the thin webs of muscles that draped around Stygian's throat. They often flared up when she was angry or in warning but they were most often laid flat. She flared open her wings and took the invitation to fly openly; allowing the frost bitten wind to raise her far above the summits of the mountains that stood in her way. Humans were known as one of the most knowledgeable creatures on earth and if they couldn't help her—no one could. Dragons had far better memories than humans and their stories passed down through the ages, however nothing a dragon had learned ever came from his own observations. Rather, the humans were always the ones who first discovered anything.

Her heart was heavy even as she glided over the grand peaks of powder snow and windswept gulley's, the pinnacles of evergreens that tilted over the perilous peaks of capstones. The world swirled together in a sharp map far below her and the winds became ever increasingly strong as they lifted her higher. Wingtips brushing the clouds, she dived downward just as she felt the first chill of their dampness hit her like a fog. Wind swirled past her ears and her wings tucked, she ducked towards the green of the earth until that village had once again appeared. Up here in the skies she could pretend that she was once again a beautiful innocent creature instead of the monster that was stealing the light with its black wings. The undersides of them were still of purest silver and for that Stygian was glad. But for how much longer?

Red crimped tiles slid down long sloping roofs of the village houses and smoke twirled its way up into the crisp air as Stygian fluttered down to land outside of a gloriously white wall that blocked her off, or rather other ancient civilizations from certain destruction. With a tremendous bound she leapt like a doe over the wall though it was quite high with the help of her wings and softened her fall on the other side by recessing her wings before tucking them under each other once again.

These first houses were smothered together with brick and cement and towered high above her head like cathedrals as smoke pummeled out of the fireplaces; bringing with it the aroma of roasted meats and the baking of fresh dough.

Somewhere in the distance a bell tolled; once, twice, three times. Then all was silent.

Stygian's claws clicked down the cobblestone streets as thick black smoke curled up from the rooftops. Stygian herself could not breathe fire though man assumed all dragons could, and had no way of defending herself except like other predators, with claws and teeth. Her scales were tougher than most hides too and acted like a shield against many. But even the toughest scales could be penetrated.

Stygian knew nothing about Man except that they were intelligent beings and that they had stories and tales like the dragons did; only their memories didn't extend quite so far. She was just thinking about how little she knew of Man, when she spotted a young boy with fair hair racing down the streets with a bundle of firewood trapped in his clammy arms. As he rounded the next corner his eyes locked with hers and he froze; dropping his bundle in surprise. Neither dragon nor boy paid any attention to the logs that were now rolling lazily in all directions; for each was intent on the other.