Page 1 of Thauglor
Chapter One
The warsbetween rival dens have grown bloodier over the last hundred years, each conflict more savage than the last. Death stalks every shadow now. The acrid stench of smoke and charred stone clings to everything—my scales, my clothes, even the very air I breathe. It’s a reminder that nowhere is truly safe anymore.
My home, Blackhaven, stands like an obsidian fortress against the crimson sky, its jagged spires cutting through the perpetual twilight that covers our realm like a burial shroud. The fortress walls bear fresh scars from recent attacks, claw marks gouged deep into the stone. Most other flights have been reduced to rubble and ash, their inhabitants either dead or scattered to the winds.
Only my friend Klauth’s stronghold fares better than mine, but then again, he is the reigning monarch of our continent—and even he sleeps with one eye open.
I have been his sword and shield for the last century and a half, watching his back as he watches mine. The metallic tang of blood has become as familiar as my scent—a copper taste that neverquite leaves my mouth. We’ve gone to war together countless times, our roars shaking the very foundations of enemy lairs as we tore through their defenses. Every victory came at a price; every battle left fresh scars. But we emerged victorious from every encounter, leaving behind only smoke and silence.
Yet lately, something has changed between us. Klauth’s recent decision to pay the bridal price for a crystal dragon female turns my stomach every time I think about it. Crystal dragons—those crystalline weaklings who spend their days hoarding pretty baubles instead of building strength through combat. They’re regarded as weak and useless by every respectable flight, more concerned with their glittering scales than survival. The thought of my oldest friend, the most powerful dragon on the continent, choosing such a mate feels like a betrayal of everything we’ve fought for.
I understand his reasoning, even if it disgusts me. He needs heirs, needs to secure his bloodline and his throne. But this feels like a means to an end, a political calculation rather than the bond between true mates. He’s diluting his proud and powerful bloodline, mixing his ancient strength with the fragile beauty of creatures who’ve never known actual battle. In this unforgiving climate, where war stalks every shadow, what chance will their hatchlings have? Will they inherit his fire and fury, or will they emerge as pretty, useless things that shatter at the first sign of conflict?
The worry gnaws at me almost as much as my loneliness. Klauth’s hatchlings will need to be warriors to survive what’s coming. They’ll need iron in their blood and steel in their hearts. But crystal dragon offspring... they’re known more for their aesthetic appeal than their combat prowess. In times like these, beauty without strength is just another way to die.
Walking back inside my nest, I watch extended family mill around the cavernous halls, their movements cautious and alert—even here, safety is an illusion. Their voices echo off the polished black stone walls in hushed tones, discussing new hatchlings and freshly laid eggs that gleam like pearls in the flickering torchlight. But beneath their conversations lurks the constant tension of war, the unspoken fear that we could be attacked at any moment.
A sharp ache pierces my chest—that hollow space that can only be filled by my mate. The emptiness gnaws at me like a persistent wound, made worse by the knowledge that in times like these, love is a luxury few can afford. I have hatchlings I’ve sired, and I love them fiercely, would die protecting them. Their laughter fills some of that void, but not all of it. Never all of it. Not when I know how easily they could be taken from me.
“Sire, several females are requesting you for their heat.” Lennox approaches, his footsteps silent on the obsidian floor. He carries several letters, their parchment crackling between his fingers—breeding requests and offers of betrothal that reek of desperation and political maneuvering.
I flip through the letters, my lips curling in disgust. The words blur together, meaningless propositions that make my skin crawl. “I am not a prized stallion to be requested for breeding. We are black dragons, not nightmares or unicorns where they simply request a stallion’s services.” The growl that rumbles from my throat vibrates through the chamber. This is what I get for being the biggest and strongest black dragon on the continent.
The letters crackle and hiss as I throw them into the hearth. Orange flames devour the parchment, and I watch them burn fora moment, savoring the destruction. Then I stride back outside, my boots echoing against stone.
Once I clear the courtyard, I shift with practiced ease, my bones cracking and reshaping with violent precision. Muscles expand and contract as obsidian scales ripple across my skin like liquid armor. The transformation sends electricity through my veins—power and pain intertwined. I launch into the star-studded sky, but even here, danger follows. Enemy scouts could be anywhere, hidden among the clouds, waiting to report back on my movements. Cool night air rushes over my wings as I soar above my mountain range, following this year’s flight path for the females. Every shadow could hide a threat; every distant shape could be an enemy. I stay alert, ready to fight at a moment’s notice.
Maybe—just maybe—I’ll find my mate this year.
I laugh, the sound harsh against the wind that howls through the mountain peaks like the voices of the damned. Like that’s happened in the last two hundred years. Banking hard, I survey the vast wilderness spread below me—endless miles of untamed landscape that stretches to the horizon in every direction. Jagged mountain ranges tear at the sky like broken teeth, their snow-capped peaks gleaming silver in the moonlight. Between them, deep valleys carved by ancient glaciers yawn like open wounds, filled with primordial forests so dense that sunlight never touches their floors.
The trophies I’ve arranged along the rocky crags stand sentinel against this wild backdrop. Sun-bleached skulls line the treacherous path to my oasis, their empty sockets staring into eternity—monuments to my victories and proof of my strength. Each one tells a story of conquest, of enemies who dared challenge me in this unforgiving realm where only the strongestsurvive. The wind whistles through their hollow bones, creating an eerie symphony that echoes across the desolate peaks.
I land in the center of my oasis with a thunderous impact that sends tremors through the ground, disturbing the perfect stillness of this hidden sanctuary. The oasis sits like a jewel nestled between towering cliff faces that rise thousands of feet into the star-drunk sky, their surfaces scarred by eons of wind and weather. Ancient waterfalls cascade down these vertical walls, their crystalline streams catching moonlight as they plunge into pools so deep their bottoms have never been seen. The sound of falling water creates a constant, soothing rhythm that drowns out the howling winds above.
Looking at all the work I’ve done over three painstaking years, pride, and frustration war in my chest. I’ve carved this paradise from raw stone and wilderness, taming a small piece of the savage landscape that surrounds us. The sugar sand in the center of the island gleams like crushed diamonds under the moonlight, imported grain by grain from distant shores beyond the great desert. This sand holds temperature better than any other—soft and powdery, it will mold perfectly to eggs. Exotic palms sway in the perpetual breeze, their fronds rustling with whispered secrets, while flowering vines cascade down the rock walls in waterfalls of color that bloom only in moonlight.
It’ll be different with a mate,I keep telling myself. My eyes drift over everything I’ve created—the carved alcoves in the cliff walls where we could rest together, the heated pools fed by natural springs, the soft grasses I’ve cultivated that release their sweet fragrance when disturbed. All of it waiting, empty, incomplete. I sigh, the sound heavy with longing that echoes off the canyon walls. It hasn’t been enough these last three years, and I don’t understand why. Perhaps the wilderness itself knowswhen something is missing, when a place meant for two remains occupied by only one.
But I don’t think this year will be any different. No more meaningless flings, no more blowing off steam with females who bore me within hours. I’m waiting for my mate. I’d rather go insane and become lost to my beast than pretend to care for someone who isn’t mine.
I take flight again, returning to where my trophies stand sentinel. Making careful adjustments here and there, I rub my neck scales against the rough stone, marking the area with my scent. The musk clings to the rocks—a calling card that any worthy female will recognize. A female who believes she’s my mate will follow these trophies to the oasis and wait for me. If I’m worthy of her attention.
Bahamut, for once, please favor the wicked. This loneliness is driving me to the edge of madness. I send my prayer up to our god, hoping that maybe—just this once—he’ll grant my one desperate wish. My mate needs to be a strong-willed female who isn’t afraid to go to war to protect what’s hers. I don’t want a dainty little flower that I’ll be terrified to leave alone.
I take flight toward the ocean, where the rhythmic crash of waves against jagged cliffs has always soothed my restless soul. The flight takes me over leagues of untamed wilderness—vast pine forests that stretch unbroken for hundreds of miles, their dark canopies hiding ancient secrets and creatures that have never known human touch. Rivers snake through the landscape like silver ribbons, carving deep gorges through solid rock before tumbling over cliff faces in spectacular waterfalls that disappear into mist-shrouded valleys below.
As I near the coast, the landscape transforms into something even more primal and raw. Towering sea cliffs rise from churning black waters, their faces carved by millennia of storms into fantastic shapes that look like frozen titans. The wind here carries the salt tang of the endless ocean, along with something wilder—the scent of untamed places where civilization has never set foot. Landing on the precipice overlooking the churning water, I watch waves roll in like liquid silver under the moon, each one the size of a mountain as it crashes against the unyielding stone with a thunderous force that shakes the very ground beneath my feet.
Salt spray mists my scales, cool, and cleansing, carrying with it the primal energy of the deep ocean. Below, the waves have carved sea caves deep into the cliff faces, their dark mouths yawning like hungry maws. In the distance, sea stacks rise from the water like ancient monuments, home to countless seabirds whose cries add to the symphony of wind and wave. This is the edge of the world, where the wilderness meets the infinite sea, and standing here reminds me just how vast and untamed our realm truly is.
My female will need to be strong-willed enough to challenge me, to refuse to take my shit and never let me get away with anything. Unfortunately, they’ve started raising females to be weak and dependent on their drakes for everything. Most have become nothing more than breeders—empty vessels for producing the next generation. The idea disgusts me, makes my stomach turn with revulsion. I would never treat my mate as anything less than my equal, my partner in all things.
Chapter Two
Early the next day,I take flight toward Klauth’s territory, cutting through air thick with the promise of violence. Storm clouds gather on the horizon like an omen, their dark bellies pregnant with lightning that mirrors my own turbulent mood. The sky bleeds crimson and gold where dawn struggles against the encroaching darkness, painting everything in the colors of war.
Today we go to collect his bride, and everything about the idea screams mistake to me with the intensity of a battle cry. The wind carries the acrid scent of smoke from distant battles—a reminder that even this simple journey could turn deadly if we encounter enemy scouts lurking in the mountain passes or hidden among the clouds.
