Page 63 of The Dragon 1
Chapter ten
The One Who Burned Cold
Korin
The world had already begun to burn when he saw her.
Cinder clouds choked the sky above Hareef—last of the free mountain cities. Towers once tipped in silver now sagged beneath the weight of flame and fear. Ash swirled where snow once blanketed the peaks.
Men screamed.
Horns wailed.
The king’s banner—a sapphire moon over white silk—was torn from its spire and devoured by smoke.
And through the firestorm, he flew.
Korin.
His dragon body eclipsed the stars. His vast wings tore through the heavens, each beat rippling with power. His shadowstretched across entire valleys; a god cast in scales—burnished gold fused with obsidian black. Night and fire locked in battle along his spine.
Die! All of you!
He rushed toward the king’s army.
Arrows tore through the darkness toward him—black fletching, tips dipped in poison and prayer.
He didn’t dodge those arrows.
He didn’t need to.
The arrows struck his hide and shattered like glass on stone.
Nothing ever pierced his scales.
Nothing could ever slow his beast.
They had tried, these soldiers, but they had also failed.
Poor fools.
Entire battalions launched their final arrows into the sky one more time and when the wind carried their weapons away like leaves from a dying tree, they understood.
There was no stopping the dragon.
Korin opened his jaws and fire poured out—ancient, endless, divine. The front line vanished in a single breath. Screams died as molten light swallowed them whole.
Stone buckled beneath his roar.
Watchtowers cracked, shattered, and slid into the city like broken teeth.
And gods above, thejoyof it.
Chaos sang in his blood.
He was rage.
He was vengeance.
