And something about this place pushes us to re-create that ancient schism, I know as I rush back up into the battle now—not to fight it but to stop it. But my drakes and I have been pushed to go supernova with the bright side of this power, even as my sister and her drakes have been pushed into their darkest hell.
There is no escape for any of us, as I give a strangled roar and wing up hard past the battle now, so far up into the cloud-streaked skies I see spots.It takes everything I have to break from the fray; I heave a burst of white auric fire from my wings as I flap them hard now, fighting to shake off whatever divisive magic digs into us from this place.
My drakes see my sudden retreat; they feel my shocked understanding of what’s really going on here. Though they give strangled roars that I’ve just hamstrung them from decimating our enemies, they wing up hard into the clear skies with me, to escape the furious wrath of the ancients assailing us.
Because this isn’t a fight either side can win, thanks to whatever calamity split this place long ago. It’s the worst failure of our ancient Ancestors, pushing us to re-create their past; and I won’t have it, as my drakes and I spiral into a protective knot now, in the highest stratosphere of the sky.
For it’s not just Blood Dragons our ancient battle threatens as it rages and wraths anew, but the entire world. As my drakes and I blaze our auric fire hard now, trying to foist off whatever’s got its talons in us, Lithava and her drakes don’t follow.
Far below, my sister roars a hammering drive at her minions, the False Black Dragon Knights, holding their perimeter. As Lithava sends them up to take us out now, I know they’re not cannon fodder.
Every dragon in the False Knights is an elite fighter, nearly equal to my drakes and me. Plus, they outnumber us with their five hundred fighters, though we have our Bloodbond, Lærke Thorsen, and Mikka Halsbrand, Head Watcher for the Black Dragon Knights.
But five hundred to seven are very bad odds, as the False Knights come at us like a battering ram now. Lithava’s magic possesses them through her connection to Hedda; as they seethe towards us with diseased oilslick curses devouring them, my drakes and I snarl and haul ass back into a tight ring, talons out.
We explode a massive wave of auric fire at them with our united roar, blasting their ring so their scales burn a furious white, but we’re outnumbered. Worse, as our white sigils flicker out upon our scales, I understandwe’ve rejected our Ancestor’s brightest power by trying to retreat from this battle.
As the next wave of False Knights comes at us, it’s only our own Bloodbond uniting us as we crash into that insane wave of dragon-flesh. Giving our all, we rip, rage, and fight as we combat this horde with our brimstone fury. But we’re getting caught in spiked Bloodnets and nicked by incredible drives of Bloodspears now that the godlike power has abandoned us.
Because they’re being coordinated by one mind as Lithava’s wicked intent courses through all the Knights now, to take us down. Familiar faces are in that horde, dragons I didn’t know were Knights. Roaring my dawn-fire at them, I slash bellies with my talons and hammer wings with my tail, even though I know these dragons are my kin.
They’re people I worked with in the Grand Palace Guard; they’re friends I once knew in Jurggadden. As snarling dragon-faces come at me like devils of old, possessed by the black oilslick ravaging their flesh, I know this devilry is not theirs.
It’s not even my sister’s or Hedda’s, as I heave a massive blast of auric wildfire from my wings now with a frustrated roar. It’s something far older, the product of whatever schism broke this place long ago.
Which has been breaking us ever since.
I can’t escape this battle as dragons come at me over and over, furious and fast. My drakes and I fight in a tight circle now; my First Drake Bjorn Magnussen’s gold dragon blazes with crimson markings at my right as we dive to escape a Bloodnet and hammer a gargantuan wave of auric flame back.
My Second Drake, Ström Eriksson, is on my left as we barrel-roll. His dark crimson and forest green dragon hammers our foes with blazing wildfire, coursing with his intense Bone Magic, to swamp their minds and thrust them back.
A wrathful black mamba dragon, my Third Drake, Mikkel Thorsen, flies at my back left as terrible bright lines of chartreuse and copperfire race through his scales. Coordinated with the white and chartreuse dragon of his sister Lærke, Mikkel jettisons auric acid into the fray, the twins blistering the False Knights in droves as they make them drop from the skies.
My Fourth Drake, Baldur Sigurðsson, fights beside Mikkel and Lærke as his sky-blue and dawn-colored drake. A magnificent cobalt tinge sears through his beautiful scales as he hammers our opponents with auric drives so powerful, they make cosmic starbursts seethe through the sky.
Baldur holds our Soulstone in his jaws as he fights, protecting that precious item, which contains the undead souls of Hedda’s drakes. We coordinate now to push back sections of this horde; but it’s all we can do as we’re hemmed in, over and over.
Lithava roars down below that we’ll soon be goners; but even as she celebrates, a massive battle roar shakes the clear dawn skies, opposing the forces that fight us. It’s not just one voice but hundreds—as a tremendous force suddenly slams into the dragons that assail us.
A second army has come; our allies, as I see the furious gold and blue scales of a massive matriarch drakaina cut through our opponents like a knife. She comes straight to us, throwing up a towering blue-gold shield around us in the dawn.
I feel Bjorn celebrate as he recognizes the furious, ball-busting drakaina of his great-aunt, Svanhild Magnussen. It’s then I understand the True Black Dragon Knights have joined us—plus other allies, as the battle turns.
A strong cadre of Magnussen dragons, behemoths bred for size and strength, crashes in with Svanhild. Bjorn bellows a roar of triumph as the big gold and black drake of his friend, Captain Olander Mortensen, blasts in at their lead.
Everyone we love has come to aid us, as I celebrate with my own towering roar to see my stepfathers just a wingspan behind, darting in to fight with Svanhild, Olander, and their Magnussen forces.
Never have I been so overjoyed to see my stepfathers, as the furiously serrated drakes who were once Maryse Allbright’s mates whirl and slash todefend us now, roaring their own coordinated drives of magic at the False Knights.
With them is a small drakaina I don’t recognize; as Ström suddenly celebrates, however, I know this fast spring-green and gold fighter is his youngest sister, Mathilde Eriksson.
The elder opal-gold, crimson, and bright green drakaina beside her is Ström’s grandmother, Annika. As the two Eriksson Bloodwalker drakainas form a powerful trio with Svanhild Magnussen now, blasting enemy dragons all around, the Magnussen contingent unites with six other fierce drakainas of spring-green and crimson Eriksson coloring.
I know those are Ström’s sisters defending us as more green, red, and gold Eriksson dragons barrel in. Ström’s aunties, uncles, and cousins—it’s just what we needed, as my entire Bloodbond celebrates in roaring triumph now.
Our families united against the force assailing us.
The fierce cadre of allied dragons smashes its way in now, blasting back the False Knights. The small, viciously serrated Eriksson Jarl is at their lead; Ström’s great-grandfather, Jarl Jorg Eriksson, is a beast in the skies, and not because of his size.
