The Dragon of Charred Scales

Storm of Sorrows

Oculeera

"NO!" I exclaimed, looking around. This cannot be happening. No, no, no...

Harogbas is dead. The threat is not over, but Novayar and I could fight. We defeated Harogbas. He and Jheecu just needed to heal themselves. I refused to believe Harogbas when he said he killed them.

But then I saw where he and Jheecu landed. And my heart died.

No...

Though a faint humming tone still resonates from Jheecu's throat, I know she is no longer aware of the world around her. Between the deep, fatal looking gash on her back and the expression of defeat and pain on her face, there is no way she can survive this. Not even if I had enough magic left to attempt a healing.

Next to her, equally still, covered by a tattered wing, lays the broken conjuring dragon body that made me scream. Blackened gashes from charred claws had nearly ripped him in half. Wings partly extended but bent in painful angles. I saw the blow but did not realize the severity.

And no sound or hint of life. Novayar is dead. And as I look around, Jheecu ceases her hum and breathing. Tears blur my vision, mixing brown and green into the most dismal of shades.

Mother and son, dead together. One ascending to the spirit world, the other forever gone. These are the choices they both hinted at.

And one of the dragons of the prophecy, still unrealized, now dead, unable to further save the world. Olamedo will have little to stop him if he can only be defeated by the ones of the prophecy, and the world may fall to their shadows. Unless I can raise some army to fight a cherufe boosted by extra corrupt magic.

Yet all that means little right now. Novayar was a good friend, a dragon I could trust and be myself around. Through thick and thin, across the world and back, in a year we have become tight. Eventually when his spirit materializes, I can again meet with him, talk one more time. Hear his voice, see his face.

But it is a poor substitute for curling up against him, having his wing draped on my back, feeling his warmth. We had over a century of life ahead where we could be with each other if we chose. We had each other when we faced the demands given to us. Now, we have nothing.

It tears my heart apart. He is dead.

No...

A sorrowful roar bursts from my chest. No, my heart. A lament for both of the dead before me. As much as Novayar's death hurts, Jheecu's hurts almost as much. She is the reason Novayar exists at all, and she will forever be gone.

Someone lands nearby. I pay them no heed. They could wrap a wing around me, or they could kill me with tooth and claw. I do not care. I just roar again at the sky, at all of the evil forces that worked to end the lives of these two dragons, especially my closest friend. At Harogbas' dead body in the distance, who dealt the death blows. If I could kill him again, I would.

It is common for spirit dragons to have their Ilistacol broken off of their dead body for a keepsake for those near to them. I do not know if this applied to conjuring dragon claws long ago, but I feel the urge to take a claw. Something unique to remember him by. Something to hold, to one day give to his foster parents, who have not seen him in a year.

Still ignoring the other Lakis, I gently, shakily, grab one claw, and with what little magic I had, I separate it from his paw. Still frantic, I take another, for myself. I do not know why I feel desperate to have a claw, but I must.

"Fly away, little dragon," said a voice. The Lakis. I look to see another dragon, a fortune dragon standing nearby. "I'll carpet them in fire."

"No. I have to. I knew them."

"If Olamedo finds out you are weak, he will kill you in an instant."

"Who cares? Novayar and Jheecu were friends." I breathe out flames over the two, but they quickly die, lacking fuel.

Calmly, the fortune dragon continued. "Oculeera, then? Go. You did what you could. I shall not let these two rot. Tell Shenring he failed the first part, but likely succeeded in the second part."

I stand a little taller, tensing up to attack. "Who are you?"

"An enemy of your enemy, but not your friend. A fortune dragon who can see futures. Go."

No. I do not want to leave them. But what could this dragon do? Leave them, bury them, or flame them. But not hurt them. They are beyond harm.

Tearing up again, I now my head and back off, but I did not fly. Instead I watched this dragon breathe white hot flames over the two dead dragons.

Crystalline claws in my paws, I watched. When Novayar and Jheecu were no more, I finally took to the skies, not even thanking that dragon.

Perhaps after I overcome my grief, I will think about these events and consider the consequences. I will have to look at what I can do next regarding the shadows, but not now. Now I mourn, more so than the ones who relied on us.

Thank you for reading The Dragon of Charred Scales, and the Prophecy of Shadow series thus far. The series will conclude in book three, Fighting the Storm of Shadows.

At this point, I am aware that the quality of both of these books is not the greatest. They are essentially a first draft with spell/grammar check and make me want to cringe at times. But I will not revise until after I am done with the series, probably not for a while after the series. I need to have the entire story in front of me in order to do the deep revising this series needs. However, any suggestions on how to make these stories better are welcome.

Anyway, thank you very much, and here is the summary for book three: "'For darkness shall encompass the world, and little hope exists of lighting it. If these two shall falter, all is lost.' One dragon flew away, one dragon followed her heart, one dragon repented his sins, and one dragon fell from the sky. The consequences shall forever haunt the world. The darkness is spreading, and without the heroes of the prophecy fighting, it has every chance of winning. But from the shadows rises another fighter, one who may change everything."