Shalastra's Light Part 1
Dishonorably discharged from the empire he once served, Akheras, a scholar turned warrior, seeks to try another way to repent for his past sins. He approaches none other than Shalastra, his once-sworn enemy, as apt of a commander as she is at getting under his scales through other, gentler means than warfare. The enigmatic dragoness has some of the answers he seeks...but will Akheras hold himself together? To do what is expected of him?
Or will he fall prey to her sweet charm and her much too enticing, feminine allure? Read to find out...
***This is a commission done for a lovely wyvern on telegram!***
Description: Dishonorably discharged from the empire he once served, Akheras, a scholar turned warrior, seeks to try another way to repent for his past sins. He approaches none other than Shalastra, his once-sworn enemy, as apt of a commander as she is at getting under his scales through other, gentler means than warfare. The enigmatic dragoness has some of the answers he seeks...but will Akheras hold himself together? To do what is expected of him?
Or will he fall prey to her sweet charm and her much too enticing, feminine allure? Read to find out...
Story written by me , Siranor
***Shalastra's Light Part 1***
Bloodied, battered. So fatigued he could barely keep his eyes open, Akheras gently glided on the warm night's wings. He carried a weight upon him far greater than the once-shiny armor he wore over his naturally golden scales. Scratched, dented in many places, plastered by blasting powder marks and blood alike, the armor he wore was not just the thing that kept him alive, but also a testament to his endurance. His ability to overcome the very will of the captors that kept him chained to their whims...until now.
With another dozen mighty beats of his stinging wings, he traded the farming fields of the fertile lake regions for the desolate Conqueror's step. The ravaged forest has been the place of a great battle between the final empire and whatever forces the forest warders still had left after the hundred years war sapped them of their numbers. Akheras gut clenched with disgust. He learned everything there was to know about this place...and the monumental loss of life almost made him sick with revulsion. Though the ground had healed somewhat, and vegetation sprung over the scars and bones of all those that perished that day, the blood of men, dragons, and many other fantastical beasts still trickled in the foundation of the earth, reminding him, a conscripted warrior in the final empire's aerial guard, of the real cost of war.
It had to change. Something had to give. Today, he would plant the first seed in a long path to peace. Hopefully.
After a long flight, the desolation finally reached its end. Angling downwards, the exhausted golden-scaled dragon approached the huge, hollowed out trees that marked the entrance of a forest guard grove. A lair of life and light, filled with his former enemies. He had no need to see the bright mists wafting around the enormous trees that stood as sentries around the grove to know what sort of spell-weavers resided in their hollowed out dens. Feathered dragons that looked like him kept vigil over their surroundings, armed with more than just their natural weapons. Mistweavers could perform feats far beyond the reach of tooth and claw. Akheras saw them raze entire rows of men with baths of flame and arcs of lightning. What chance did a single dragon like him have, were they to deem him a risky ally?
I'm not turning back, Akheras closed his eyes to remember all those he fought to protect, those who fought with him...and those who fell to him. He had a duty to honor their legacy, no matter what side they were on. To change the world they left behind for the better.
With his mind made up, the once stellar scholar flared his mighty wings and beat them against the wind to slow himself down. Make himself seem less of a threat. Lights appeared from the nooks of the trees, some to brighten up the moonless night, others, a safety measure in case of attack.
"I bear you no ill will!" he roared to the guards once he hovered in reach of their archers. "My purpose here is with the leader of your encampment. Take me to her. In fetters, if you have to."
A roar answered him. Then another. Yet, strangely enough, no dragons came. Only a horned feline with the wings of a bat, dark as the starless night. A robed figure rode it, armed with a bow he clutched tightly in one hand and a shimmering rune blade within the reach of the other.
"Far from home, for a bright-scaled one." The cowled figure must've been a feline, for its discerning eyes immediately picked on the parting gift of the defector's former allies. "Keep that thing on. It'll speak louder than anything your mouth can conjure."
"I understand."
"Then follow me. Head down, wings steady. They'll smell any attempt at treachery, should you be one of the infiltrators."
Dipping his head, Akheras humbly followed the hunter's lead. He descended at an altitude that easily allowed missiles, magical or otherwise, to take him down, and prayed to whatever gods the dragons of old put their faith in that this shard of the surviving forest guard alliance were as tightly knit as his history books recounted. With the winged feline's tufted tail flowing gently along the night's breeze ahead of him, Akheras passed gracefully between the large branches of the titanic trees, then angled himself down to the center of a smaller ring of normal trees that served as the gathering place of many of the creatures he would've hunted on sight, were he still the empire's sliver of vengeance.
"Keep close," the feline hunter instructed once their soft padded paws alit on the cold grass.
Akheras tucked his wings and followed in his wake, passing along a corridor of curious and snarling snouts alike. The center of their congregation was a loud, intimidating affair, with many hostile creatures a former scholar like him saw for the first time with his very own eyes.
"He's with me. Whoever dares touch a scale on his tattered body will answer to the lady of the moon!" The feline snarled and pushed back a few of the more enthusiastic fighters from extracting their personal bits of vengeance from the golden dragon's defenseless wings with snapping jaws, claw strikes, and for the anthros, sharp spears. "Step back. Still your anger! Are we no better than the empire HE deserted?"
The din of their snapping, snarling, cursing jaws, lessened somewhat. Yet even so, Akheras still fought hard to still his shivering limbs from showing the intense fear that tested his resilience...as well as the fascination that coursed along his chilling blood. On one paw, he might've been one of the first outsiders that laid eyes on the last surviving magical creatures of the realm...but on the other, the same creatures he only imagined with the help of the accountings of the long-dead explorers, could just as easily be his demise.
"Almost there." The hunter grabbed onto one of his twisting horns to pull his head close enough to hear. "Put paws to purpose. You've been brave or foolish enough to sneak away with the empire's secrets, and that already makes you our ally. That snarling lot is all barks and growls, but in a few days, they'll be lining up to massage your soft padded paws in gratitude."
"Really? I thought-"
"We get hundreds of deserters to replenish our dwindling numbers? No, dragon. You're the first one we had in months!"
Akheras felt grateful for the feline's steadying words. He needed this strength, were to brave the hostile crowd. Their passionate disdain made him feel exactly like he expected. Hated. Reviled. A cowardly invader seeking to broach peace with the very creatures he previously fought against, all to save his precious hide.
"Inriadryn Draha." An antlered wolf emerged from between two Nightstalkers, large, winged panthers that bared their fangs at the dragon in spite of his submissive posture. Lowered wings, bowed head, he showed no signs of threat. Yet that barely stopped the wolf with shimmering skyrunes etched on his armor to spit upon one of his forepaws, cursing him with a word no historian or traveler mentioned in their books.
"I am sorry," Akheras said softly. "I've done you wrong, but I am trying to repay my mistakes. That's why I'm here, to talk to your leader, to-"
"You make no demands here, turn-scale." The wolf placed the tip of a cold, shimmering blade right on his throat. "The commander will see you for what you really are. A killer. She won't even grace you with her presence, for you are worth less than the sacred ground you step on."
"His worth is up for me to decide." A confident feminine voice cut through the thickness of the crowd's vocalizations.
Akheras' tension melted somewhat when the blade retreated from his scaly neck.
"Esteemed apologies, commander." The wolf immediately fell to one knee before the figure emerging from the depths of the night. "I sought to show the traitor his place."
"With us. His place is with us, as all those who glide into our groves peacefully. Has this dragon raised voice in anger?"
The crowd's growly disdain lessened, bit by bit.
"Have his claws shed blood upon our soil, or left marks upon any of you?"
Silence followed, eerie as a still grove.
"Our numbers are thin, and the only way to survive, is to accept those who shed their former loyalties into our bosom. To prove to the empire we discriminate not the color of one's scales, their birth, or their upbringing. We are one in the light of this grove...and as one we must act, if we are to tread once more upon our torn lands. Is that understood?"
A few growls of appreciation left the crowd, yet most heads hung low in shame. With her amethyst eyes traveling across the sea of her people over to Akheras, the commander of the forest guard had an imposing presence about her that made Akheras feel both small and in awe at her majestic stature. "I'm Shalastra. How might I call you, visitor?"
"Akheras. Akheras of the Golden Sun. We used to be-"
"What you were no longer bears any relevance here." The feathered creature with the constitution of a dragon slinked forth from the depths of the crowd that parted like a river slamming against a sharp rock around her. "Is he alone?" she asked the hunter that brought him here with a warm bump of her snout against his armored chest.
"Yes, adrana'kas." His throat purred with a word recognized as the tip of the spear in the forest guard's military ranks by Akheras. Something even higher than commander. "Our nightstalkers followed him since the Iladrian plains, half a day before he crossed the great desolation. We spotted no tails, nor can we tell where the blasting powder or the blood etched upon his plates came from. Might be he's telling the truth."
"Powder and blood." Akheras tensed when her furred snout approached close enough to sniff at the coagulated mess of dust, powder, and sickly dents made by the many missiles that struck Akheras' armor. "You paid for the cost of your freedom with the blood of those who torment us every day. For that, you have my gratitude."
"I'm honored, commander, but-"
"Fortunate how your wings have been spared their shooters' wrath...mostly," She dabbed at a bleeding gap that made Akheras' snout contort with a painful hiss. "You reek of death, dragon. Something I shall not have in my grove. Come. I shall see you in a better light."
Before she departed, Shalastra bumped her head once more against the hunter that led Akheras here, then did the same with his feline, rumbling a soft, gentle gratitude. It warmed Akheras' heart to see how close she was to her people, even in times of war.
"What words have I heard from the mouth of that antlered howler? Indaria...something?"
"Inriadryn Draha." The concoction sounded smoother upon her calm, silky tongue. Less aggravating. "A decade ago, the words would have been dragon slayer. Now, since the rise of emperor Drevongar and the conscription of many of the empire dragon's into the killing squads you use to hunt us down, scale-breaker is a better fit."
"The only breaking came at the expense of my own scales." Akheras tried to ease the tension with a lighthearted quip. One that didn't stand well with Shalastra.
"Quicken your pace, dragon. The blood I smelled belongs to you as much as it belongs to your captors. We need to still the bleeding quickly, or infection will take firm roots among your shattered scales."
They traded the large clearing for something fare more intimate. An alcove nestled in a patch of tranquility. The gentle light of lanterns hanging from the boughs of dark-leafed starshimmer trees radiated in the otherwise gloomy grove Akheras found himself stepping into. His wings fanned out instinctively at an ethereal presence that passed right by him, disappearing momentarily amongst the simmering dark blue leaves of the enchanting trees. He paused often to marvel at the beauty of this secluded shelter. Things he read in books so old their pages cracked apart now surrounded him, beckoning him to touch, to observe, to research! Wonders not even the best artisans of the empire could accurately depict anymore still lived on in this perfectly preserved sliver from ancient times, when the race of men was but a speck in a world thriving with magic and miracles.
"The dragons we previously welcomed in our midst paused too, yet none rose up to the levels of your wonder."
Akheras shuddered once the feel of her feathers brushed along him, just a claw or two away from him. His nostrils widened to suck in her scents, the mesmerizing aromas of her fur as exotic as the land she dwelled in. Almost without thinking, he found his snout inching in her direction, pausing suddenly as her eyes turned from the simmering lake ahead of them to him.
"I-I apologize for my curiosities, but as is the case with the grove, this is the first time I can put a picture to a name feared and reviled alike throughout the final empire."
The dragoness seemed amused "My, to think a dragon of brightscale heritage attacks with words rather than claws." She purred, feathered crest perking up with playful curiosity. "Am I everything your people demonize and expect?"
"Not...quite." Akheras' thoughts hung limp on his tongue. The longer he stared at her, the quicker his heart beat in his chest for a reason he could not quite comprehend. Faint violet hues complemented the black fur that covered her slender form, but more impressive were her feathers. With an elegant bushel of smaller ones to decorate the elbows and ankles of each pair of her limbs, these were small replicas of the splendorous wings she kept tucked at her sides, dotted with faint glowing specks of radiance on their ventral side and painted with a gradient of darker violets along the top side. Along her tail a fan of feathers rose up on each side, ending with an efflorescence of feathers carrying small bright violet motes on their tips. Sure, it felt normal to feel fascinated during such an encounter any scholar dreamed of. But beneath his stochastic feelings, something else lurked. Something instinctual.
Something he could not let himself be distracted with right now.
"I've read about such starlit groves," his topic of fascination quickly dissipated into the present reality through a shake of his stunned, silly head. "From the ancient tomes before the desolations of the midlands to the newer depictions of Farethryn the Seeker, the flora of your forests, their denizens, even the shandelar spirits we refer to as lightsliver wisps is all documented with stunning accuracy...yet to see with my own eyes, to step on the very grass I only imagined...it's a wonder beyond the greatest's scholar dreams." Akheras felt his eyes moisten a little at the beauty of it all. If he were alone, he'd most likely allow the entirety of his feelings to wash through him like a riptide of unadulterated gratefulness. To find himself here was a blessing. To be here in the company of a female he never imagined in such a resplendent, controlled, enchanting manner? A dream come true, for she was soft, and kind, nothing like the monster the empire's hearsay branded her as, with a nurturing presence as warm as the tender light of her grove.
He wished to tell her how happy he felt for even being permitted in this virgin, secluded place without any trials to prove his worth, or oaths of fealty...but he couldn't. Not now. Not until she would peel off more of the layers that kept her such an enigmatic mystery among the empire's many regions...for even the softest looking hunters could hide the sharpest claws beneath their deceitfully fluffy exteriors.
Right now, he had to be Akheras the warrior first, and the scholar second. Straightening his fluttering wings in their joints, picking his head up with a focused expression, Akheras turned back to her and bowed his head with a respectful nod.
"I am more than honored to find myself here, Shalastra of the starbasked grove. Tell me please, how can I be of assistance to your cause?"
The dragoness smiled. She began to walk around him, her discerning eyes analyzing his features with even greater interest than last time. "Broad wings trained for long flights, muscular legs able to hold that armor with barely an inconvenience, durable scales...I would be impressed, if your paws had any claws to them."
"Oh," Akheras picked a foot off the ground, spread his fingers, and forced his feline-shaped claws to come out with a flex of his joints. "Impressed yet?"
"I might be, if this was a claw size measuring contest, but as scholars are well aware of, not all fights are won with teeth and claws." Her warm pads fell upon the top of his paw, gently directing it back to the ground.
"They're..."
"Warmer than yours?" the tips of her fangs showed as she displayed a playful smile.
"Yes, I theorize the fur is what keeps your blood warmer than mine."
"You theorize, hrrmmm? Well, what if I tell you we can put your theories to the test once you divest yourself of his horrendous suit of armor? We can talk plenty once you cleanse yourself of the remnants of your past self."
"I might need a bit of help with the plates," Akheras looked over the dented mess that once was his pristine blacksteel armor. "Especially the ones on the chest, sides, and haunches. They're made to stick close to the hide, and with all the respect I can muster, I think we might need the help of a few of your hunters. As warm as your paws are, as sharp as your claws might be, no amount of effort can unlatch the creations of human smiths."
"You'd be surprised," Shalastra beckoned him to follow with a suave movement of her wings. "We too have our smiths, our grove tenders, our historians and researchers. Fighting is a necessity, not a pleasure. Many of the wonders of old have been lost to history. Many more still are. We push back as hard as we can, but your people never know when to stop."
"They are my cagers no longer." A hiss creased Akheras' lips.
"Is that why you still wear their crudely shaped metals upon your scales?" Shalastra retaliated with another of her teasing smiles. "You smell like them, walk like them, wear whatever they press upon your otherwise glittering scales."
A fierce rush of blood warmed the golden dragon's cheeks. Did she...was she...could she...? No, no, it made absolutely no sense for a queen of the grove to appreciate someone like him.
He shook his head off the pesky butterflies that invaded his head and quickly resumed their serious talk. "I trust my scales, yet no warrior that put their trust in skill alone died happily in his nest when their time naturally came. Were it not for this armor, you would be talking to a perfect imitation of a fiery wyrm from the ashmark regions right now."
Shalastra's feathers fluttered with mirth. "For as learned as you are, you should know their streaks are a little brighter than red, almost like the fiery sun after it dips halfway beneath the horizon...but you are right." She looked to him with warmth, understanding...and something else simmering in her eyes. "There is no greatest instinct than preservation of one's self...or their species."
They shared a long, intoxicating glance into each other's souls before Akheras felt his blood grow hot beyond the ability to fully control his thoughts in a coherent manner.
"Yes, the armor. I'll-"
"No, let me do it," Shalastra sailed past him, filling the air with her suave scent. "The flight here must've taken everything out of you."
"Not entirely." Akheras paced around her clumsily, almost afraid to have her touch him. "Please, I arrived in it, I wore it, I can take care of my own armor."
"How chivalrous of you, yet you are in my grove, visitor...and here? I can do whatever my feathers please."
Akheras nodded with a dim growl and allowed her to have it her way. There was no easy win for his wit to match an older, revered figure that forced the once fragmented countries of the human world to form together into the sprawling behemoths that came to be known as the final empire just to survive.
"There is great knowledge to be found in books," her words flowed from her mouth, gentle as her touch. "but some things have to be discerned by our senses. Touched...in order to fully be understood."
Akheras sizzled with embarrassment, feeling more exposed with every plate that revealed his true self underneath that mess of steel marked with blood and shame. He never had a female so close to him before. Certainly not one that undressed him from his armor. Feeling his nethers contract with that certain combination of tightening bliss no male wished to experience in such inopportune moments, Akheras gritted his jaws in an attempt to subdue it, only to make it all the worse.
"N-not there." He stumbled away once her claws latched on the clicking clamps holding his underside plates in place.
"Are you planning to walk into my pool dressed in steel?"
"No, I just...I can remove those on my own." Akheras hissed, hoping she hadn't caught a whiff of his-
"My dear brightscaled dragon, there is no hiding one's scent, and yours has been drenching my grove ever since we walked in. Shed the burdens that brought you here. Allow me to see you for who you really are. There can be no trust between us otherwise." Shalastra confidently approached, closer and closer, until her forehead met his, just like she did earlier with the feline-mounted hunter, only this time, her feathered wings came forth to veil him in a warm, dark embrace. "The path that led you to me is sprinkled with the kind of loss I know all too well. Not many dragons have your strength, your mental fortitude, your thirst to be part of the poultice that shall balm the festering of this world clean. Allow me to do you this one simple favor. You earned that much."
"Nrrrrhhh...I shall allow it." Akheras hardly had the strength to pull himself away from her feathered embrace. But rip himself he did. He had to. Otherwise...he could not trust his strangely aroused emotions to keep him on a straight path. With a sly, pleased smile, Shalastra slinked under his flared out wings to work on his belly plates until every each of them met the ground with a muted thud, all dry and clean...except for the last. Sticky translucent strings dribbled down along with the bit of armor, oozing out from what could be called the opposite of a well concealed vent. Puffy and bloated by more than just the tip of his member poking out, the lack of armor clearly exposed the golden dragon for the male that he was.
Akheras' scrambled mind fumbled for words that wound not come until Shalastra finally spoke for him.
"You're not the first male I welcomed in my grove, Akheras. Nor will you be the last. Still your thoughts, steady your breaths, I am not a human female growing red before the sight of the other gender. Let humans bathe in their silly concepts of shame."
"Indeed," Akheras agreed so quick he almost nipped his tongue. "Will you follow with the other plates? I still feel silly, standing like a horse with their thing out."
"It happens." She swatted him playfully with the tip of her tail, then resumed her work on the other pieces of armor with the same ruthless efficiency until she got to his sides, where the most damaged plates were.
"Nraaaahhh, I-I'm not sure brute strength is the best approach there." Akheras grunted as her claws tried to dislodge away the dented plate with pure strength.
"Hrrm, you may be right. I smell foul blood in there. The impact of their ironstars sutured the metal to your scales."
"Let me." Akheras grabbed onto the stubborn plate with his mouth, only to be stopped by a sharp slap cushioned heavily by the soft pads of her feline-like feet. "Hrrr, I can take off my own armor!"
"With more than a few scales clinging to it. I offer a better way."
"Why? You think your teeth are sharper than mine?"
"Be patient."
Patient for what? Snarling softly at him to know she meant her words, Shalastra took a few steps back, then fanned out her feathered wings and took a deep, silent breath.
Akheras swallowed any word he still had on his tongue when shining mist poured from her feathers as if by magic. The simmering cloud radiating with a gentle, warm energy wrapped him like vapors of moisture suspended in a hot spring, making him wonder just what manner of trick this was.
"I can hear your breath quickening like a hatchling on the edge of a cliff." The dragoness spoke. "Worry not about my mists. They won't do anything to your scales...unlike your armor."
"My what?"
Akheras gulped his words once her eyes opened back to the world, intensely simmering with the same mystical energy that controlled the mists. Luminescent strings appeared into existence. They clung to him, forming bridges between the mists and his plates. In that moment, he knew exactly what would come next. Pain. Sharp, blinding, roaring pain spread through his entire body like waves from the epicenters of an earthquake created by the creases forking between his mangled scales; holes no longer filled by the shattered steel he once wore.
She was right. There was more beneath the armor than any eye could see...and Akheras' pained, tearing eyes saw something more horrific than he could expect. Spiked metal spheres that punctured past his plates remained stuck between his scales like a hedgehog's spines. Shalastra needed but a moment for her bright strings of energy to latch onto the spiked balls in order to rip them out of him just like she did with the plates. They flew outwards in a storm of metal and blood. Akheras threw his head up in pain. He roared a second time, even louder than the first.
But strangely enough, the sting lasted far only for a moment. Suddenly as the pain came, a wave of refreshing coldness inundated his gaping wounds with pleasant numbness, keeping his feet from toppling over and his jaws gritted tight with determination.
"Raaahhh, what's happening now?" Akheras gasped, blinking his wide, teary eyes.
"You'll...see..." Shalastra strained her words, but he dared not open his eyes in concern. Not until she finished. The inundating relief lasted only a breath longer. Then, it vanished, leaving him feeling...strangely warm and refreshed.
"Done?"
"You could say so."
With the mists dissipating back in her feathers and her markings losing their glow, he quickly took the chance to inspect himself. "Astounding!" he flapped his wings in happiness. "Scales in their right place! Absence of any leaking wounds! You can perform such feats just by flapping your feathers?"
"On the surface, it sure seems like a simple trick used by the very founders of the arcane. But beneath, far greater forces are at work. Let me see."
"Of-of course." He hated his stutter almost as much as the other inconvenient thing only males fully understood. "Maybe...keep your eyes only in the relevant places? Where the wounds were?"
"Mrrrhhh, I promise nothing."
She approached so teasingly, crest all raised and happy! Her amethyst eyes curiously taking in every detail while her fur and feathers brushed against him.
"Grr-gratitude," Akheras shuddered. "but maybe...not a good idea to be so close to each other."
"You are no beast...and I am no damsel," the feathered dragoness licked the side of his neck. "Come. You can repay me by following me into the pools. Your wounds might've closed, but a rather strong smell hangs in the air.... And it's coming from one of the places you warned me not to look."
Yes, he knew exactly how intense that part of his body reacted to her cocoon of mystical energy, but Akheras cared little about whatever slivers of dignity still clung to his fully exposed form. The circumstances that led him to this very moment sapped him. He had neither the shame nor the energy to deny the obvious. Not when his own nostrils flared with excitement every time he caught a whiff of her own, rather obvious, scent.
"Are you not going to join me?" He found the lukewarm waters rather pleasing on the tops of his soft padded pink paws. Her lack of reply would've given pause to a younger dragon. Akheras? He just strolled inside like this was his last chance to ever taste water upon his scales. "Suit yourself."
Undulating ripples wormed their way across the crystal-lit lake, his golden scales adding a greenish hue when they mixed with the sky blue nuances of the crystals spread around the edges of the luminescent lake. Akheras sighed in contentment once waters embraced his entire body, seating himself on his back deep enough to allow only his head to peek out of the lukewarm waters.
"I can almost feel your feathers rattling with excitement. What to do with the traitorous dragon, hrrr?" He turned his head to the side to keep an amused eye on her incredibly proper demeanor. "Keep him under watch. Use him in the main branch of the unseen shadows your rebellion is so famous for. Or maybe dress him up in his worn-out armor and send him out to be the tip of your spear of vengeance?"
When she said nothing, staring at him with curious amethyst eyes, Akheras drifted back into his thoughts. "They tried that...the humans who cradled my egg like they did their own offspring. The parents that raised me...the...traitors that sold my future to the skyguard," he hissed in anger, the pain of those memories too great upon his tongue. "I know how this works. We may come from different walks of life, use different tongues, play by different rules...but war is the same, no matter where it springs forth. I will tell you how I escaped, what role befits my talents, and if that pleases you enough to join me, I may consider a different type of tales."
"Proceed." The female asked on a sterner voice than what he got used to.
"After dinner, when their bellies were full and their minds addled with drinks. I tricked one of the human whelps I once called brother to see me into the courtyard so I can stretch my wings. Stretch them I did...quick enough to avoid any suspicion. I flew to my white tower of knowledge, after all. The great library nestled within has been my home more than my actual home. You can imagine how much it pained me to see it go up in flames. They took my life away, I took away eons of knowledge few stored in their minds, like I did."
Akheras took a long breath. He needed it to still the anger, pain, and loss that still burned in his chest. "But my retribution had consequences. A patrol followed me all the way to the edge of the city. I knew they'd only grow in numbers if I let them follow, so I made my stand on the top of the city's wall, where the sharpshooters could hit their allies as easily as they'd hit me. But these people...mere days ago I talked to them, ate with them, I helped and they helped me in return, but now, the bond we had, all shattered. I...clawed through them like they were nothing. I'm not sure they expected their lives to...end so quickly. The sounds they made when they clutched their ravaged flesh, fingers too small to put a stop to all that blood...I...I prefer to skip over this part, with your permission."
"Granted." The dragoness said calmly, "So you are a flesh-render, first and foremost...yet your words seem learned. Practiced. Almost...wise."
"I fought the endless expanse of my master's library long before my claws even knew how easily human flesh parts in their wake. That is who stands in your waters right now, huntress. A seeker of knowledge who wishes for a quick end to this endless war." Akheras sighed. "It feels intoxicating to lash back at those who mistreat you, but this...this is not who I am. Who I wish to be. I had my fill of violence. Of death. I bear no love for the humans anymore, yet they deserve more than your swift retribution. They-"
"Deserve to flourish? To endure? To...exist?" Disgust spread across her once-fair features. "After they took our lands from us? Stole our eggs? Murdered our kin?"
"Not all of them are guilty."
"Such honest words, spoken from a maw that moments ago blemished the very paws that fed you, jakoranh Draha." She hissed out that word far stronger than the others, for it was an insult Akheras knew far too well. Tamed Dragon. A term reserved for the unfortunate whelps born into a servitude they knew no way out of. That made them loyal pets to the empire's war effort...and one of the greatest assets they had, for what better way here was, than to fight dragons with dragons?
"Pretending is their poison. Not ours." Shalastra continued unhindered by the golden dragon's temporary silence. "Whatever wind brought you here clearly had no plans to speak of their virtue. Delude yourself all you wish, seeker of knowledge, but you know as well as the rest of us how much of a fight life is, and fight for our cause, you shall."
"Hrrr, enough." Irritation creased Akheras' snout. "We will decide what must be done later. For now, all I seek is temporary balm from my wounds. I spoke more than I should have...and so did you."
***End of part 1***
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