Devouring Hollow Hearts || ONC'24

》Chapter Four《

The dull clang of her hammer sent chills down Chyrie's spine as she allowed momentum to shape her freshly drawn out cast.

Adjusting her grip, she tipped the would-be hilt slightly and flattened the thick layers of iron and steel until a molten blank remained. Sweat dripped from her chin, accompanied by the occasional sparks of ember and metal scattering across the floor. Thin knobs of carbon she could easily dismantle over many hours of repetitious forging.

Chyrie swiped her arm against her forehead, soaking up the beads threatening to roll into her eyes.

Her eyes glazed over as she studied the small chunks of steel, excess her father had called scales in tender reference to their fire breathing allies. They looked similar to the magnificent scales shielding a dragon and were often just as stubborn.

As if her thoughts conjured him, Chyrie's new friend crept into focus, sniffing the pebbled metal carefully.

She wondered if there might be a trick to incorporating a dragon's scales into weaponry. Her uncle boasted about it once, swinging around a broadsword with little character save for its tapered horn cross-guard and skin wrapped grip.

The weapon might've even been shoddy, though many fawned over it. Begging for his war stories, asking to hold or wield the damned thing during solstice. A priest claimed it bestowed luck upon anyone who held it, explaining how rare it was for someone to possess the flesh of a dragon.

Chyrie sighed through her nose, catching the drakeling's attention for all of a minute before he turned back to the bubbling lava. His round eyes widened even more when a thick slab of rock broke into the lavafall and sunk to the bottom. With a whipped swish of his tail, he crouched. One moment, the small drakeling watched with laser focus and the next he was skidding around the bend to climb the cavern's wall in an attempt to investigate.

She couldn't help but chuckle.

Her idea to name him Dailes– after the island she'd heard of, overgrown with tropical fruits– settled comfortably between them. Chyrie presented the name after his fourth offering, rolling the mango past her anvil with his nose. Dailes answering chuff seemed to be one of satisfaction.

Her drakeling friend's tail swung clumsily into the wall under shifting rocks, revealing a small hole of light.

Brows furrowing, Chyrie set her most recent forge into the hearth and unwrapped her palms.

Dailes pivoted, intrigued by the opening he'd created. His head tipped to the side. More boulders parted under the weight of his hefty paws, allowing soft beams of light through. Again his tail slammed onto the wall, this time intentionally.

Torn between thoughts of his intelligence and curiosity about the newfound space, Chyrie approached.

"What did you find?" she murmured.

Dailes preened, wings flaring with pride.

Testing a theory, she smirked and pointed to the hole.

"Well? Go on then."

The drakeling lowered himself to the ground, adjusting his shoulders and lunging through the gap. Shale and clay rained down on his gray scales, coating him in debris. When Dailes turned back with a frustrated huff, Chyrie couldn't help herself.

She burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the walls of their small chamber. Another shard of mud collapsed onto his snout, irritating him enough to shake.

With the vengeance of an alley cat and the fervor of a wet dog, Dailes flung the dirt around the room. Chyrie was quickly dusted in the same mess, years of dirt and ash coating her tongue.