For a breathtaking mont, the night sky over the continent of Aethelgard turned from black to blood red.
Across the lands, scholars and mages lifted their heads, gazing in awe at the crimson nebula that now dominated the heavens. For all the intelligent life on Aethelgard, the spectacle was both familiar and yet utterly new.
New, because after tens of thousands of years, the Ninth Crown had finally descended. Familiar, because the ancient texts had not been exaggerations; the arrival of a Crown was truly an event heralded across the entire world.
It was a day that would once again be etched into the annals of every race, into the heart of history itself.
…
Aiden's crimson eyes were fixed on the sky, but in the next instant, his perception of reality fractured. In the blink of an eye, the world he knew vanished.
He looked down. His body was no longer a physical form, but an astral form of pure red fla. He was small, and he was in… a hall. He scanned his surroundings. Massive stone pillars, wreathed in crimson fire, stretched up into a sunless gloom. The walls to his left and right were the sa, colossal ramparts of stone and fla.
He spread his fiery wings and, with a single beat, left the ground, soaring upwards. The phantom body felt no different from his real one.
He flew for what felt like an eternity before the top of the walls finally ca into view. With an accelerated beat of his wings, he crested the wall, his claws finding purchase on its edge.
Before him sat eight imnse thrones. And upon those thrones, their masters were seated.
On a throne of fused black and white sat the Gemini maidens with faces obscured by shadow, one with hair of midnight black, the other of purest white. They were locked in a slumbering embrace, their forms impossibly vast, true goddesses tens of thousands of yards tall.
On a throne constructed from the marrow-drained bones of countless creatures sat a humanoid skeleton. It rested its skull on its left hand, and a flicker of purple soul-fire danced within its empty eye sockets.
On a throne that appeared soft and fluffy, carrying a hint of innocent charm, a black-haired human youth slept soundly, his head resting against the high armrest.
On a throne of glittering, pure gold, a colossal dragon was coiled. Its body was crimson, but from its shoulders sprung five heads: one red, one blue, one green, one black, and one white.
Aiden looked at the five-headed behemoth, then looked down at his own small, fiery form.
He fud internally. Damn it all. This is exactly why I didn't want to co here so soon!
Grumbling, he lifted his head and looked at the remaining figures.
On a throne of brilliant platinum sat another dragon, its scales the color of molten starlight, its form powerful and majestic.
On a throne piled high with the skulls of unknown beings, a humanoid figure rested silently. Its body was covered in black scales, and a pair of curved red horns grew from its head. Alone among the bizarre postures, this one seed almost normal.
Aiden's eyes moved to the next, the one he had been most curious about: the Eighth. As the weakest of the Crowns, surely the gap between us won't be too…
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
On a throne of swirling, verdant wind sat a youth of such ethereal beauty that he seed unreal. He was seated in quiet ditation, and while his form was not asured in the tens of thousands of yards, he was easily over five thousand in height.
Aiden was speechless.
Are you kidding ?! So I'm just here to be the runt of the litter?!
He lifted his right claw, curled all his talons into a fist, and then extended only the second claw—the draconic equivalent of a raised middle finger. He spun in a slow circle, ensuring everyone got a good look.
[You're all trash,] he broadcast, his thoughts a wave of pure defiance. [And one day, I will crush every single one of you.]
Goodbye, and good riddance.
The hall dissolved around him, and his vision began to spin.
…
In a tavern that was now empty of all other patrons, a massively built man with short, platinum-blond hair and a handso youth with long, sea-green hair remained. The large man drained his great mug of ale in a single gulp.
“Ahhh, that hits the spot,” he bood, slamming the mug down on the wooden table. His eyes fell upon the youth across from him, who was slumped over, his beautiful green hair spilled across the wood. He looked to be on the verge of passing out, but the man knew his companion was nowhere near drunk.
“Say, Veridian,” the man said. “Do you have any idea what that little dragon's final gesture was supposed to an?”
The youth lifted his head, his fair, handso face flushed from the drink. “Auremax, why do you ask?”
“No special reason. Just curious,” the platinum-haired man replied. “Care to satisfy my curiosity?” Auremax knew that of all of them, Veridian, with his penchant for collecting obscure knowledge from other planes, was the most likely to have an answer.
Veridian's green eyes t Auremax's platinum, draconic irises. He did, in fact, know exactly what the little one's gesture ant. Hmm, should I tell him? If I do, Auremax will surely make it his personal mission to whale on the newcor's backside.
No, he decided with an inward smile. Better not.
“Hmm,” Veridian mused, feigning thoughtfulness. “It's likely a form of greeting.”
As the Sixth Crown, Auremax possessed the authority to discern lies. No one could lie to a tallic dragon. And this ti, Veridian, that inveterate trickster, was not lying; he was rely presenting a possibility.
“Like a wave hello?” Auremax asked.
Veridian's lips turned down in a pensive frown as he nodded. “Yes, sothing to that effect.”
The brawny man lifted a massive cask from the floor with one hand and began to refill his mug. “Is that so? A fine gesture. I shall use it to greet the others next ti we et.”
I can only hope the others will be gentle, Veridian thought, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
“Co, another round!” Auremax roared, raising his mug.
Veridian reached out and lifted his own.
Clink.
“Cheers!”
“Cheers!”
They both drained their mugs in one go. It was another delightful evening.
*****
From within the clouds, a white dragon's head poked out, her luminous eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at Aiden below.
A corona of red fire now burned around his body, flas licking through the gaps in his scales. An imnse, terrifying pressure radiated from him, an aura of pure, draconic power.
Is that… Draconic Fear? But Aiden is just a wyrmling! How can he have that already? The disbelief in her eyes gave way to utter confusion.
Aiden's heavy eyelids lifted, his pupils once again blazing red. He looked up at the moon, which was now red. It had barely moved. It seed ti in that strange hall did not align with reality. He had been there for what felt like an eternity, but here, barely a mont had passed.
Hm?
His gaze shifted. In the corner of his right eye, a new sigil had appeared, this one a vibrant purple. It was slowly descending, like sand in an hourglass. It was about half the size of the sigil of his contractor. He estimated it would be fully depleted in about five minutes.
Tsk.
He cursed Providence internally. Couldn't she have filled the bar? Giving a half-asure… what a cheapskate.
His crimson eyes fixed on the forest canopy ahead. Down below, many of the Wood Elves were now alert, arrayed for battle. They had spotted the red wyrmling in the sky.
He glanced again at the slowly descending purple sigil. He knew what fueled it: faith, or perhaps his very origin essence. Either way, it was sothing he could not currently replenish. This had to be a quick battle.
He lifted his claw. Centered on the great tree, a ring of crimson fire erupted from the ground, encircling the entire tribe in a wall of inescapable fla.
Reviews
All reviews (0)