The Dragon of Charred Scales

Heart of a Dragon

A/N: Mentions of gore and blood

Jheecu

My lungs burned from the thin air. But it pales in comparison to the emotional pain. I let him get away. He used magic and I could not fight it.

I dodge another swipe, unsure what to do. I have to distract Harogbas. Oculeera is capable of continuing the spell I think, but she needs me to keep her safe. But Novayar is falling below, nearly torn in half by Harogbas' massive claws.

He may not be alive. But if he is, he needs help now.

Mind says stay and fight. Heart says save my son.

Harogbas slashes again, and I barely dodge. I cannot fight like this. One swipe and he tore two dragons in very different ways.

Revenge. I need to get revenge. What he did to Karomba, and now to Novayar, cannot stand. I roar in challenge. But I do not attack further. I look down, far below, at my son.

A twitch of his wings. He cannot fly. But he still lives. Not for long.

I cannot fight. I have to catch him.

Harogbas roars back, and suddenly white-hot fire tears through my right flank and spine. My right wing gives out, and then I too fall.

Breathing hurts. Moving hurts. My vision dims. But I hold on. I tuck my left wing against my body and hold my right wing back as far as I can. Novayar's wings are limp but slow him down just enough. I am slowly getting closer.

My mind slows. What do I do when I catch up? I cannot feel my tail. I cannot feel my hind legs. Only pain in the rest of my body.

He must have gotten my spine. I grit my teeth. I cannot feel if blood is gushing out or not.

Eyes want to close. Consciousness wants to slip away. I fight back. I must get to Novayar.

If I can save him, save myself, Harogbas will pay.

I hear a roar of pain, too loud to be Oculeera. Good. Make him suffer.

Novayar is getting closer. So is the ground. But I cannot catch him in time. Magic. I have to use it.

I only have one chance. My mind is sluggish, and fights against my efforts.

Halt his fall, halt my fall. Let us both land safely. Blocking out the pain as best as I can, I imagine the spell.

Magic envelops my body, slowing my fall. Novayar slows as well. I fall closer to him, and see the extreme damage done to his body.

Another twitch, this time from his tail. But it should be as numb as mine.

Forcing my eyes fully open, I watch his sides, just above the gruesome wound. Shallow breaths. He is indeed alive. But barely.

The ground slowly approaches, gently catching us both and supporting us. I let my eyes close.

Deep within, an instinct stirs. From in my throat comes a low hum, one of the ones I used for newly hatched young. For the sickly ones, the ones in pain. Older than Wyrmic, this communication. I open my eyes again.

Novayar lays to my left, his broken body splattered with blood that continues to flow unchecked. Wisps of black smoke rise from the tears in his flesh. Eyes closed, mouth open, tongue spilling onto the sand. The red stain beneath him slowly spreads, working to join the red stain underneath me.

No one to heal us.

Death. It approaches. I feel calm, ready for its embrace. For the nothingness of not ascending to the realm of the spirits.

I did what I could. Novayar cannot be saved. I cannot be saved.

I move my wing to cover him as he let out one long, wheezy breath. No more air moves beside me. I feel my own breathing becoming shallow. Closing my eyes one last time, I continue my hum.

I hum and hum.

It is all I can do.

I failed my duty as a mother. And now you lay dead.

I hope you can forgive me, Novayar.