Chapter 1

Our story begins….

Several hundred years ago, in a time of prosperity, the dragons and the people of Naerdrath stood side by side. Happily lending a hand to the other, and the country flourished from the magic the dragons provided.

Then, on a faithful night, as the storms raged on, thunder and dragon roars echoed through the night sky, and heavy downpour flooded the land. Amidst the small clearing outside of the castle, the country’s princess lay cradled in the claw of a dragon, the white fabric and the golden embroidery stained with crimson blood. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe.

The clanking of armour grew louder as the royal guards braved the scene; the captain of the guards held up his sword, crying out the declaration of capture. The rear guards lunged forward, ropes in hand, as they charged behind the dragon, throwing the rope over the dragon's enlarged body while the captain hurried to remove the princess from the dragon’s claw, being quick to summon the palace healer.

The dragon didn’t squirm, allowing for the ropes to encase its body, keeping it pinned against the floor. The dragon’s breath was shallow as it watched through half-open eyes as the captain surged before him, his brow furred and eyes glistening with anger.

The captain raised his sword, the downpour splashing off his armour and pooling at his feet. With a strong grip, he unsheathed his sword, holding it up high. “Know this,” the captain’s voice echoed through the storm, the lightning reflecting off the blade, blinding the dragon. “For harming our precious princess, you and your kind will be condemned to extinction.”

With a swing of his sword, the metal cut through the dragon’s horn.

In the country’s capital of Lamington, balloons of all colours hung from every building, with banners on either side of building to building in celebration of the Emberfall Festival. A festival that was centuries in the making; a festival to commemorate the death of the last dragon.

As was written, on the day of the princess’ attack, all dragons were condemned to a fate worse than death… extinction. Though the princess lived, the community built with the dragons died that faithful night. It was decreed all dragons must be stripped of their horns, ridding them of all magical properties and thus allowing them to die of old age.

“They believed it was a mercy killing,” the figure hidden amongst the crowd looked up at the dragon statue that had been defiled with blood red streamers. His face twisted into a sickening grin. “Humans are such ignorant fools.

He turned with a swish of his cape, walking down the pathway as the townspeople dispersed from the road to make way for the parade to start. The banging of drums and squeals of trumpets came up from behind him. In amongst the cheers, the distinct sound of a mother crying could be heard. He stopped in his tracks, moving his head to the side just enough to get a glimpse of the crying mother, trying to jump into the oncoming parade. Moving his eyes, he noticed what the mother was grabbing for—a child, playing happily in the middle of the road as the parade marched towards him.

He grumbled; this wasn’t his obligation to save a child, a human child at that. He turned to continue walking; however, his feet wouldn’t move. The mother’s pleas rang in his ears; it wasn’t his obligation, it wasn’t even his race, and yet… “Vivify,” the words escaped his mouth as a whisper; his slender fingers danced towards the toys the boy was playing with. The stuffed bears stood at attention, picking up the boy and whisking him away to his mother, who scooped him into her arms, the stuffed bears falling limp as the magic wore off.

“Oh thank goodness,” the mother’s tears of joy tickled his ears as he walked off. No one was aware of the stranger who saved the human boy.

“Humans are so… fragile,” he spoke to himself in a low, gravelly voice, though it wasn’t as if anyone would hear him over the sound of cheering as the parade passed without interruption.

His teeth ground together as he walked, wanting nothing more than in the moment to plug his ears and deafen the sounds of cheers that celebrated the death of an entire race. Though the humans were busy, he thought to himself as he turned the corner, entering the narrow alleyway, the walls almost brushing against his broad shoulders. Above the doors, signs inviting in the ‘passing’ trade, though most were dimmed; it was the sign that hung above the door at the end of the alleyway that caught his attention.

His large hands pushed through the small opening of his cloak, opening the door wide, and he was greeted by a gentleman sitting cross-legged on the counter, looking at him with a slick grin and a pipe hanging loose in his mouth. “Welcome,” the shopkeeper spoke in a raspy voice, thick smoke from the pipe pouring out of his mouth. The shopkeeper looked the man up and down, his grin growing more wicked. “Ah, you are here for something truly… what’s the word?” The shopkeeper stroked his chin with one hand, the other removing his pipe. “Ah yes, extinct.”

The man walked forward, his form towering over the shopkeeper’s, staring down into his eyes. The shopkeeper’s wicked grin never faded. From his back, he pulled off the small pouch attached to his belt; the coins inside jingled as he slammed the pouch on the counter. “If the item is right,” the man said. “Then so is the price.”

Nodding to the shopkeeper, hopped from the counter, putting the pipe back into his mouth as he started to dig through the shelving in the back of the shop. The shopkeeper’s bottom wiggled behind him as he hummed happily, looking for just the right item for his customer. “Ah ha,” he cheered, pulling out a rectangular wooden box. The shopkeeper placed the box on the counter, opened it, and turned it around, presenting the man with the contents. “Just what you were after, yes?”

The man was careful as he cupped his hands, his long, slender fingers snaking under the item, holding it as if it were a newborn child, then brought it up to his face to inspect it closely. “You like?” The voice of the shopkeeper sang, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve had this dragon horn for many a year; no one has previously shown interest in it so that I can offer you a good price. Yes, good price indeed.”

The man put the item back into the box, his hand digging through the pouch, plucking out a handful of gold coins and slamming them onto the counter. As he moved his hand, the shopkeeper’s eyes widened upon seeing the 5 gold coins. “I assume this would be sufficient,” the man said. He closed the box and put his pouch back behind his back, hooking it onto his belt. The shopkeeper nodded, scooping the coins close to him. “Very good,” the man tucked the box into his cloak, ensuring it was kept close. “If you come across any more items of this kind… inform me.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” the shopkeeper laughed stupidly as the man left. The man held his arms close, keeping the box secure against his body. “Tell me your name and where to find you, and you will be the first to know of any further extinct items that come into my possession.”

“Ryuijin,” the man spoke his name proudly without looking back. “Send an owl to the tower in Dragonmount should you wish to find me again.”

The bell that hung above the shop door rang as Ryuijin left. The shopkeeper’s face started to droop as the words Ryuijin spoke finally hit him. Temporarily forgetting the coins on the counter, he ran outside to catch up with Ryuijin, yet there was no one there. In the narrow alleyway, there was no way Ryuijin could have left already. “Dragonmount?” The shopkeeper whispered, looking up to the sky. “There of all places…”