Page 109 of The Last Dragon
At the signal, both the boards slowly descend—everyone standing, crying, screaming as they watch it reach the ground. But my attention shifts. Not to the boards, but to the one thing igniting this feeling inside me—the general.
When the ceremony is over and the boards burned for the Divines to reclaim them, my unit and I sit in a room that’s often empty. It was used for storage—I’m unsure of what, though. Now we’ve claimed it as a place to come together. There’s a table in the middle, with books and some scattered maps Sam brought with him. Even when we try to get away from our duties, Sam still brings his stuff with him. Ilian sits on the floor, Eryca on a chair beside Nida, fiddling with a piece of paper, while I press myself against the wall.
We’re supposed to be back, working, training, planning, whatever the fuck General Grogol wants us to do—but an hour to grieve and then forget is not enough.
Not for us anyway.
“None of it makes any sense.” I sigh, tracing the map with my eyes from afar.
Eryca steps away from the table and approaches me. “Tell us what you saw,” she mutters, her voice thick with fatigue.
I shrug, my eyes drifting across the table. I catch a glimpse of the Redsnout chart—half-buried, almost forgotten—and then it hits me.
“It behaved differently,” I note, letting my mind drift back to the fight. My eyes dart to Nida. She pulls the chart out, andseveral scrolls tumble down from the table as she takes a closer look at the Redsnout anatomy.
“We are taught Redsnouts are aggressive in nature,” Nida says, her fingers tracing the edge of her lips as she analyzes the chart. “This one is anything but aggressive, at least not the way we know they should be, or the way it was during the expedition.”
“What do you mean by that?” Eryca sighs, struggling to keep her posture straight.
“What I mean is…” Nida lifts her head, eyes darting between Eryca and me. “This one pressed its wings low to the ground and barely moved its tail. It was like it was—”
“Defensive,” I interrupt, catching her thoughts.
She looks at me and gives a slow nod. “There’s only one dragon who prefers to be defensive.”
“Silverscale,” I murmur.
“Are you fucking with me right now?” Eryca throws her hands in the air. “You’re trying to tell me this thing is capable of switching behaviors?”
“Not only that,” Nida says, rummaging through the scrolls and pulling out charts of different dragons. Stonetail. Wingtail. Silverscale. Blightclaw.
“Its defense mechanism wasn’t unique to any of these dragons. A Silverscale is defensive, but only if its wings are pressed against its body. This Redsnout used its tail to protect vulnerable areas, too. It’s like this creatureknewwhat we would aim for.” Nida places the charts next to one another, dragging her finger across the inked words and blood stains. She points out the Stonetail’s jagged tail, the Wingtail’s ability to shoot straight into the air, the Silverscale’s defensive stance, and the Blightclaw’s habit of stalking its prey. The way the Redsnout was stalking us.
“It’s as if it’s intelligent,” I say, my eyes growing wide. “That explains it then.”
“Explains what?” Nida asks, narrowing her eyes as if she’s trying to read my mind.
I grit my teeth.“The Stonetail—it had pleading eyes.“I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“Are you telling me that these creatures are able tofeel?” Eryca scoffs, but her disbelief turns into fear the moment I nod.
A sudden knock on the door startles Eryca. I approach it, and as I open it, I’m met with irritated golden eyes, framed by black, messy curls.
Alex.
“You’re late,” Ilian says as Alex pushes himself forward to one of the chairs by the table.
“Well, I didn’t exactly want to be here.” He forces a smile before turning it into a frown in the blink of an eye.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ilian barks. He gets up and takes a step forward, making himself bigger, his dark skin catching the faint glimmer of torchlight as his jaw tightens.
“I don’t know if you realize this, but whatever crap you’re pulling here is gonna get us killed.” Alex lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, tilting his head like it’s all some sick joke. “So, yeah, surviving the battle? Not gonna mean a damn thing. Might as well wave a red flag in front of the general’s face.”
“If you don’t want to be here, then leave!” Ilian snaps.
“Another thing you haven’t realized.” Alex scoffs, swiping a knife from the table. “If I try to leave, I’m most likely dead. As if any of you are gonna just let me walk away knowing what I know.”
“Bullshit,” Eryca barks across the table, her dark curls bouncing as she jerks her head forward, jaw set in defiance.
