|| Book One of the Dragonkind Duology ||
𝙄𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙛 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙩; 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣.
For years, dragonkind and humankind had been at war, alternating between short-lived truces and all out...
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"Well, that was a waste of time," Darin muttered to himself as he stepped out of the shop and into the streets of—What was this town's name again? It didn't matter enough to him to go searching for the answers. Instead, he continued to wander, passing row upon row of lime-washed houses. All he wanted was more mana potions, but every place he entered was wiped clean of them.
He turned down a much narrower alley, believing it to be a shortcut to the main road, lost in thought on how he got himself in this situation.
It all started a few days prior after an encounter with a particularly mischievous unseelie. Nasty frights with nasty bites. Teeth marks still cut deeply into his skin at his shoulder, and they had yet to properly close. If he were a careful person, he would have marched to a qualified healer as soon as he entered the village, but, alas, he was not. There were too many Order members skulking around for his liking to sit idly, and every stray look he received made his skin crawl.
What are they even doing here in the first place? he thought bitterly. Don't they have labor camps to keep an eye on?
He remembered watching the Three Kingdom Alliance leading chains of dragonkind after the war ended. Many celebrated that day, but he was not one of them.
Before he could find the main road and be on his way, he felt the strap of his bag slip from around his neck. A blur to his right disappeared down an alleyway. Dumbfounded, he stared down the narrow strip between houses, only realizing what had just happened as the figure rounded the corner. "Hey!"
He ran after them—someone small—as close as he could, yet couldn't seem to gain any ground. He may have had longer legs, but it was the tight corners that slowed him down. The thief weaved between spaces at random; spaces Darin wasn't sure he could squeeze through if he were a touch wider. It was a good thing he had set a trace on the bag as he followed it like a mental compass. The thief would have been long gone if he didn't.
If it was a normal day, he wouldn't have cared about the stolen bag at all, giving up after the first few twists, but, well, he needed those mana potions! Especially since it appeared no one had them in stock. He knew he could naturally absorb mana over time, but being without the potions in his line of work meant trouble.
Darin skidded to a stop just as the thief darted past the last row of houses and into the woods the town sat next to. This isn't ideal...He still could sense where the bag was, the thief having slowed after realizing they were no longer being chased, but any smart man knew entering an unknown forest was never a good idea. Not in this world, at least, where the barrier between the Fae and Mortals constantly cracked and gave way to the Seelie and Unseelie. This would be a good place for an ambush. Brushing his fingers against the leather cover of his spellbook, firmly nestled in its carrier that strapped around his waist and thigh, he sent a pulse of magic to probe the trees beyond. There were no unusual amounts of foul energy, but he continued the process as he carefully made his way into the woods.
