The world stank of iron and smoke.
As Vaerion soared across the skies, wings cutting through the clouds like blades, his golden eyes scanned the new age. Towering cities scarred the land. Human banners flew above once-sacred mountains. Where ancient dragonholds had once blazed with fire, only ruins and tombs remained.
And then… he found them.
A clan of dragons—young, thin, and trembling—cowering in the shadows of a forest.
Their scales were dulled, cracked from hunger. Their wings bore wounds from steel-tipped spears. One of them, barely older than a hatchling, limped on a shattered leg.
Vaerion landed before them, his presence blotting out the sun. The weak dragons recoiled in fear.
“Do you not recognize your own blood?” he growled.
One elder dragon dared to step forward. “Y-you are one of the Ancients… we thought you were a myth.”
“A myth?” Vaerion’s voice thundered. “I am Vaerion, Flameborn of the First Brood. I carved mountains with my claws. I drank starlight and shattered moons. And you—” his gaze burned into the clan “—are hunted like prey by mortals.”
The elder lowered his head in shame. “They came with numbers… with weapons… with magic. We ran. We survived.”
“Survived?” Vaerion bared his fangs. “A dragon does not survive. A dragon conquers.”
---
Overwhelmed with fury, Vaerion nearly turned his back on them.
But then he saw the children—hatchlings, barely breathing, hiding behind their mothers. They were born in fear, raised in shame. If he left now, dragons would fade into nothing more than stories.
No.
Not while he still breathed.
---
🔥 Two Years Later
The world changed.
In a forgotten valley hidden by enchantments and shadow, the dragons trained under Vaerion’s wrath.
He broke them. Forged them. Taught them to fly with honor, to burn without mercy. The hatchlings grew into warriors. The wounded learned to fight again. Those who once cowered now stood proud, their roars shaking the mountains.
And in time, they crowned him—not with gold, but with fire and loyalty.
Vaerion, King of Flame. Dragonlord Reborn.
The last Pure-Blood stood at the head of a new generation.
And the world… would come to fear dragons once again.
The sky cracked open with thunder as hundreds of wings took to the air, their flight casting massive shadows over the forests below. Dragons of every hue soared together for the first time in an age—crimson, emerald, obsidian, sapphire—moving in perfect formation behind the one who had taught them to remember who they were.
Vaerion stood upon the peak of the great mountain now known as Drakorith, a once-dead crag he had reignited with his flame. Lava flowed beneath its roots, and molten symbols of the old tongue were carved into its face.
Before him, his dragons roared—not in fear, but in unity.
He raised a hand, and silence fell.
“Today,” he called out, voice carried on the winds like prophecy, “we are no longer broken.”
“Today, we are no longer prey.”
He extended his wings wide, fire dancing along their edges.
“Today, we rise.”
A massive column of fire erupted from the peak, visible across the continent—a signal, a declaration.
The dragons had returned.
***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***
Updated 19 Episodes
Download
Like this story? Download the app to keep your reading history.
Comments