Sir James and Sky Cloud dragon fate
The scent of char was the first thing, a thick, oily promise of her presence that had guided me through the high passes for days. It was not the stink of a cook-fire, but something older, deeper, the very air tasting of lightning-struck granite and...
The restoration of Fire Drake
The air in the town of Cogsworth was, as always, thick with the scent of coal smoke, hot metal, and the faint, sweet hint of ozone from overworked Teslatic Accumulators. The rhythmic hiss-clank of the central clock tower was the town’s steady...
The tragic end of Jake the mouse
The final, shimmering note hung in the haze of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, a dying star in the cramped atmosphere of The Howling Note. My tail gave a last, practiced flick as the spotlight died, plunging me into the grateful blindness of the...