Chapter 7-Darkened Lies

I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner, Uria muttered as he flared his wings, dropping to dust-laden floor once more. Makiar gave me no time to use the stairs.

I let you know because of that fact, Makiar snarled in response before her eyes settled on the broken frame of her son.

A mournful cry rose from her throat and she howled in grief as Uria noticed it as well. Their son, Pytris, had been killed in the fight. He had been supposed to continue the long line of great fire dragons but now . . . he was no more.

My child, my great achiever, why? What did you have to leave us? She roared, her grief bringing all of her emotions closer to the surface.

As Makiar mourned the loss of her son, Finca was trying to save her daughter's life. Verdra whimpered in pain, unable to move anything but her head. Her eyes caught her mother's and she growled softly, trying to mask her misery.

Verdra, Finca whispered soothingly. It's okay. I will make the pain stop.

Uria glanced over to her as Ryta picked herself up off the floor. Searing pain lashed through her tail, or what was left of it anyway. Smoke drifted from her nostrils as she tried to make sense of why she was still alive. Arxa should have killed her, yet the dragoness hadn't.

Perhaps Narssia held her back, Uria suggested, realizing her thoughts.

Ryta blinked, startled by the older dragon as the red male gently grabbed her large chunk of tail off the floor and walked over to her. Uria deposited it before her and looked down at her with calmness so unnatural for one who had just lost his son.

Why aren't you grieving? Ryta questioned, her voice barely above a whisper as the cold black eyes of Uria peered down at her.

I am, hatchling, in my own way. To lose my son is heartbreaking but not nearly as much as when I lost my partner.

You mean Tronay, Reath growled softly, his eyes watching his mother's mate as Uria lowered his head in shame.

A low growl of agreement rippled from Uria's jaws as tears slipped down his face, his grief now brought to the surface. Ryta growled softly, wanting to comfort the older dragon but realizing that he wouldn't allow it. Uria was closed off, to say the least, now from most emotions that other dragons freely expressed.

Pytris, please don't let it end like this! Makiar moaned, her voice screeching with agony as she rested her snout on her son's shoulder.

Uria finally lifted his head, his eyes brighter than before. He is dead, accept it.

Accept it? Uria, he is our son! You try accepting it for a change! Makiar spat back, her eyes glistening with fresh tears as her gaze lifted to meet her mate's.

You know my reasons for not being as free with my grieving as you are, Uria replied coldly, his tone becoming as hard and unemotional as his eyes.

Tronay is dead, she has been dead for years now. Finca growled, annoyed with Uria's closed heart as any dragon that lived in the tunnels. If anyone needs to accept that, it's you!

I don't need your reminder of my pain, Finca.

You need to get over it! The white female roared. Think about how she would see this in you. What would her words be?

'Get over the loss of those that mean the most to insure that you continue to live.' Is that better? Uria's tone was now as dark as his black eyes, his anger held in check but only to the point where he would not attack Finca.

"You sounded just like her Uria. I'm impressed."

Uria growled softly as Dhran entered the chamber that reflected the battle that had taken place recently. A soft green cloak draped over his shoulders as the remaining human Ricata brought his green eyes to Makiar, stopping only inches from Uria.

Bowing before the dragoness, he spoke with utter concern for her, "I had hoped I would not be too late yet still Pytris has gone to be with my parents and all those of the dragon race who had given up their spark of life that allowed for their lives to be as long or as short as they were."

Airu, you came. Already Makiar seemed to display power in her voice once more. I only wish you could have come sooner, my friend.

"Indeed I also had wished for my quicker arrival. How was he . . . ?"

He fought to save me, Ryta whispered, turning her eyes to Dhran as he noticed such an innocence in her eyes that betrayed the darkness that plagued her mind after having seen the burial death of her father and the shackling of her mother's will.

"Ryta, was your mother Narssia?" Dhran questioned, realizing the connection she must have to the dragoness that had just escaped.

She was. My brothers should be looking for her now.

Brothers? Uria growled. You mean she bore children from Mirage?

Two sons, Jormundur and Sitedal.

Jormundur, is he a grey dragon? Finca asked as she remembered seeing a dappled-grey tail from her mystery attacker while she had Verdra's egg with her.

He must be, Verdra growled, wincing as her mother helped her stand since her back wasn't broken, only sprained deeply.

I have never seen my brother so angry apart from that night . . .

What night, little one? Uria hummed, his black eyes meeting Ryta's own.

Things were looking good for me a month ago. I had a loving mother and father, my brothers were eager to teach me the ways of life, and I was the pride and joy of my family. That all changed when she returned one day from hunting. Narssia had never spoken of the oath she made with the Orichalcos to my brothers and I or even mentioned it to Raxmon. When it came it was as complete a shock to my father as it was to her children. Ryta sighed, bracing herself for the emotional memories that sought to come forth as she dove deeper into her painful past. That night, after she came back from her hunt, I noticed she was on edge. She tensed up frequently and snapped out if any of us questioned her on it. Her eyes were dim, a clear sign of great distress in a dragon, but none of us could get my mother to explain. I remember that last sentence my father spoke to her, its words so clear in my mind as if that night was only yesterday . . .


My mate, a golden dragon by the name of Raxmon growled, his scales rubbing against the blackened scales of Narssia with utter concern. What troubles you? What causes you this . . . distress?

Narssia shifted, pulling away from her mate as her eyes scanned the small, circular cave that was their home. Its smooth marble walls shimmered with the last glimpses of the sun's rays as night set in upon the land. Her two oldest children, only hours apart, lay calmly in the corner closest to the open entrance as Ryta lay only feet away, busying herself on the leg of a deer as to avoid seeing her parents become interested in perhaps attempting to mate again.

I'm fine Raxmon, honestly, she growled, her tone bitter with struggling anger. My hunt just went longer than I had hoped.

Raxmon snorted, smoke drifting from his nostrils and drifting back along his lengthy body. Now, now. That isn't the truth, he muttered as he brushed his snout against the bottom of her jaw, his olive eyes sparkling with joy and yet holding a trace of worry.

Raxmon, now is not the time. Her anger bristled more strongly as she jerked her head back, away from his snout even as their frames lay together. Think of my sons and our daughter. Is this how we are to set their standard?

Perhaps you have a point . . .

Perhaps? We are their parents, we know better! Narssia growled, her eyes flickering with a vermilion tint for only a second.

You didn't let me finish. Raxmon snorted in protest as he reached out to her with his snout once more. Perhaps you have a point because of our relation to those that lay within these walls. That should make all the difference in the world as to our behavior around them.

It should, but does it matter? Narssia's voice cracked, she could feel herself giving in to the fury that pounded in her veins. Does any of it matter or is this all a way to contain what can't be stopped? She blinked, her eyes having shifted to pure whiteness as opposed to her normal yellow.

What do you mean? Raxmon questioned in concern as young Ryta finished her meal and glanced back to her parents as her brothers simply watched.

Slowly she leaned in, the side of her head brushing against the scales lining his neck. Her voice hissed like a snake, her tone so low only Raxmon could hear her next words.

How important is one delicate life?

Her eyes gleamed with enjoyment as she leaned around and found the back of his neck, where the neck stops and the spine begins. Raxmon suddenly caught on, realizing that this behavior was not her normal display of affection toward him.

Ryta, he growled. Go stand near your brothers. Quickly, my child.

Startled, the young brown dragoness complied as her brothers stood as if they were one being. The older of the two by only minutes, nuzzled his half sister as his grey scales mingled with her brown ones.

One simple life. With those words, Narssia bit down on the spot chosen for a quick kill. Raxmon had no time to shriek in pain as the result was immediate.

Tossing the dead dragon to the ground, the now hungry eyes of Narssia glanced up at Ryta and the older siblings of the young dragoness. A low growl rippled from deep in her throat, behind her bloody fangs as she showed them and the youngest of the three hatchling dragons trembled in fear.

Such a waste, Narssia hissed as she stood, her mind now consumed by the force she had once tried to stop after the death of her rider. You three would make such good prey for me to try out this new skill I just acquired only a few months ago.

Inside her mind, the magic of the Orichalcos was spawning something that it had never created before in the mind of a dragon but was certain of its success. A presence infused with the darkest magic possible was growing, gaining ground over Narssia as her fury doubled upon itself.

Leave us be, the younger of her sons by Mirage snarled, his black scales glistening with the last few strands of light that found their way into the cave. Take your desire elsewhere and return our mother!

Sitedal please, Ryta whispered. Keep your voice down, maybe she will think we pose no threat.

No threat? Ha, Jormundur and I could easily take her on. Besides it was your father's wish that you be kept safe. He glanced over at his brother, the dragon's scales rustling as he returned the glance with a quick nod. Come, follow me.

Turning, Sitedal was about to lead his younger, but related only by his mother, sibling with him when Narssia spoke once more.

Sitedal! She roared, anguish lashing through her voice as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to gain back control. Leave with Ryta now! Focus on keeping her safe, no matter the cost, both of my sons!

Needing no further request, the young dragon spread his wings and jumped from the mouth of their cave, Ryta following close behind. The events of the night were burned into her mind, never to be forgotten as a great tragedy had taken place.


What became of Jormundur or Sitedal? Have you heard from them recently? Makiar questioned.

No, not since I came here. Sitedal and I flew to a small clearing where he left me to go return to Jormundur. I hope for the best, for both of them, Ryta answered, closing her eyes as the feeling of abandonment for her brothers descended on her once more.

I see now why you told me that both of your parents are dead, Uria growled. There is still a way to get Narssia back, I believe that. We have to make every single dragon besides those in this room see just what we see: a chance for her restoration, her redemption.

Dhran shifted his weight uncomfortably as moments passed without either any of the dragons or himself speaking. Truly this was a dark place for Ryta, the thought of never seeing her mother again in her right mind.

"Makiar, we should begin to prepare Pytris' body. Unless you disallow it of course."

We should, you're right. The ruby dragoness blinked back bitter tears before flaring her wings and taking to the floor above, her grief too much to handle.

She reminds me of myself when Tamli died, Finca growled softly, recalling her emotional vulnerability during the rough aftermath of her mate's death. Uria, has the disease claimed anymore lives since Nor'ac?

Not that I've heard, he replied, exchanging a quick glance at Dhran.

We survived, Verdra growled to Ryta, amazed that either of them were not killed.

Praise to be given to our ancestors, Reath commented, his scales now covered in a fine layer of dust.

Ryta nodded but the agreement was only superficial. She was now worried for Sitedal and Jormundur, not to mention her mother. Narssia had come through only briefly in the beginning of the fight so maybe having Arxa overwhelmed was the key to allow her mother to break through and speak with her.

What troubles you youngling? Uria growled, noticing her lack of attention to everything around her.

I think I might have found a way to allow myself interaction with Narssia. I just need someone to come with me because I am certain I know where her lair is, my old home.

If that's true, wouldn't your brothers try and fight her away from that place? Finca interrupted.

Perhaps but given what I've heard about your own meeting with Jormundur, I know she is at my birthplace, Ryta snarled, her teeth gleaming with a faint pink tint from where she had bitten Arxa during the fight.