Fallen One (Book three of Alfireán age)

- Facing The Beast -

Breathing sparks of fire and dwarfing the downed tower, the enormous beast loomed over them, waiting for their answer.

But none of them breathed a word.

Spreading his wings outwards, the dragon leaned down, shaking the ground as its four limbs shifted closer and its razor-sharp claws dug into the shattered stone. A deep rumble issued forth from the dragon's long, serpentine neck, and warm breath tore at Olivia's robe as it sniffed them one by one.

For a moment, the mystical creature hovered above Zaphaniea. Then smashing its mighty tail into the downed tower behind him, the dragon's eyes focused on Drake. "Speak, dragon kin!" the alizarin-crimson dragon bellowed, the heat from his voice singeing the edges of Olivia's hair and pushing her face into the porous stone. "Or I will send you all violently back from whence you came."

Drake crawled to his feet. "I'm sorry," the prince blubbered, his voice sounding insignificant and tiny in the wake of the mighty roar from the ancient being. "We didn't know this was your place of rest."

"Then why are you here?" the dragon asked, his deep, fire-tinged voice booming once more. With the rustle of a thousand scales, his long neck moved backwards, and his two horns, which arched upwards and back towards the ridges on his head, glistened like silver swords.

"We are seeking shelter from the cold," Drakovian scrambled, trying to abate the dragon's fury. "We were deposited here while trying to dispose of a dark magic portal, and we happened upon this place by chance."

The majestic creature's golden eyes narrowed as two puffs of smoke issued forth from his nostrils and his dagger-sharp teeth gleamed white against the swirling debris. "I see," the dragon answered after several moments. The anger in his voice faded away, and his slitted pupils watched the group while they slowly and cautiously clambered to their feet.

Olivia's heart raced within her. Never in all her days had she thought she would see one of the ancient creatures of lore. She still remembered as children when Alf had insisted on playacting as a dragon. He'd called himself Aldrin the Brave and given her rides on his wheelchair as they rode it down the hill together, pretending the wheels were the wings and she was his rider. Of course, Harold had put an end to that real quick, but they still had found other ways to playact for hours.

Curious, she looked over at Alf. He must be ecstatic, she thought to herself. Sure enough, his blue eyes looked like they were nearly falling out of his head. His mouth hung wide open, and his face held a look of wonder she'd only seen once before: the time when she had revealed her holy magic and sprouted a pair of wings.

"Dark magic?" the dragon muttered, his voice rumbling deep in his chest and interrupting her thoughts. He raised his majestic head and gazed off in the direction they had come. "It still exists to this day?" he asked, a tone of deep sorrow permeating his question.

Drake swallowed, his face unusually pale, and glanced at all of them as if trying to figure out how he should answer.

Closing his jaw, at last, Alf shooed his hands at the prince, motioning for him to tell the truth.

"Sadly, yes it does," the prince answered, his voice more solid and far less high-pitched than his earlier response.

The dragon breathed out sharply and fire licking at the air from its nostrils. But as the ancient creature swiveled his head to look at the destruction around them, his sudden anger faded almost as fast as it had appeared. "I see," it answered again, a wet sheen forming in his large, slit golden eyes.

Olivia and the group stood there in silence, peering up at the legendary dragon while he sat back on his haunches and gazed out forlornly at the crater.