He is heir to the throne... And she is the broken rule he must erase...
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In the Kingdom of Vakythia, power cleaves the populace into two distinct classes: the Blessed, wielding gifts granted by the Ember, and the ordinary citizens, devoid of such...
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The Dragon Spire
A brisk breeze whispers past my ears, and suspended fifty feet above ground, it almost convinces me that winter is making an early entrance. Yet, the air dances again, prompting a swift dodge as I deftly guide my dragon to the left.
My Sirrocian friend seems to be having fun blasting wind in my face.
Curiosity sparks within me, urging a fiery response to this playful challenge. With a subtle flourish, I weave my hands together, conjuring a mesmerizing ball of fire cradled in its own brilliance. I release it, watching as it rolls towards him; he ducks with a sly grin, obviously happy with his moves.
As I peer ahead, commanding my dragon to ascend into the clouds, I sense Daelan's imminent presence. The hiss of his dragon and the swirling whirlwind foretell the tempestuous encounter unfolding mere seconds away.
"Watch out for those rocks, your highness!" Daelan's warning echoes. Rocks? Absurd! No rocks are at these soaring heights. As my gaze snaps forward, a gust of air challenges me, yet I remain steadfast on Rocco, fingers gripping his scales atop his sturdy neck. Blast these Sirrocians and their mastery of the air. In mere seconds, he maneuvers beside me.
"Sneaky. But you'll need more than that to topple me," I challenge with a defiant smirk.
"We shall see," Daelan sniggers, soaring ahead. His spear-tailed dragon glides and flutters like a delicate sheet of paper, a mesmerizing sight that never fails to bewilder me-how these gigantic creatures of scale and flame defy gravity suspended high in the heavens.
A weary screech escapes Rocco, signaling that our aerial duel must draw to a close. We've soared through noon, and even my stomach growls in protest of the prolonged flight. Yet, Daelan revels in the thrill, his enjoyment tempting me to wipe that persistent smirk from his face. After all, I'm the one meant to be smug in these skirmishes.
In truth, dragons aren't my forte, and engaging in a high-flying battle feels like trespassing in Daelan's realm. A Sirrocian's Domain. I yearn for solid ground beneath my feet, a place where my stance is unshakable. Challenge me there, where I won't yield, and I'll unleash a torrent of fireballs that might just singe the arrogance from your demeanor.
For now I'm barely holding on for dear life not to fall off my flight and managing to fight back.
"Growing weary, my Lord?" Daelan's voice cuts through the rushing wind beside me. When did he circle back? A frustrated groan escapes me before I retort with a snort.
"You're reveling in this far too much; it's getting under my skin."
"As I should," he chuckles. "You always claim the solid ground. This, right here, is why our escapades in the Spire are a highlight for me." Golden locks cascade around his shoulders as he raises his hand, eyes shut, savoring the wind on his face, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
