Title: Breathe in the Dragon
"Prologue: These Past Dreams…"
With a sigh, you turn away
With a deepening heart, no more words to say
You will find that the world has changed forever
England, 1267
The heat was impossible to ignore in the valley, the blood hard to turn away from. It had come to this, to the deaths of many men, sacrifices for their country and their families; a sacrifice that looked to be made in vain. The bloodied limbs of noble and royal men were carelessly strewn about the hallowed ground. What holiness the earth they stood on had once held was gone now, murder its only name and purpose. They had come here with faith and hope in their new leaders, once pariah turned savior. They had come believing the words of said people, trusting that they would save their homeland from the hell that was bottled in scaled forms.
They had been wrong to come, many thought so now. They should have abandoned the godforsaken land they had once called England and moved towards a new life in France. The beasts had taken from them everything they once had; there was no more to fight for.
The shout came from somewhere deep in the battle, where the ground was burnt the most and fire still damaged once lush bushes. Dragons and men alike lay scattered here, where the fighting had been heavier than all other places. One woman stood tall, the only woman that had been allowed on the battleground, her posture proud but wounded.
She stood with her left arm out, the only arm she had with strength, her right arm broken and beyond repair. Dangling from her black soot fingers was a silver chain, a red amulet hanging on the end. Engraved was a fang, drops of blood carved as well at the bottom of the pointed tip. Her mouth was moving, words desperate for loud release, to be heard across the land.
A single dragon came down from the sky, enormous, serpent like wings batting away knights on horses that came to near. It let out a snarl, its own fangs much like that engraved on the amulet. This dragon was the largest the warriors had encountered on the field, black as the night with flashing golden eyes, the danger it gave off so much they many would not dare engage it in battle. Now the woman with hair like a devil stood against the beast, her own brown eyes flashing.
The creatures wings came in suddenly, tightening around its body, like wrapping a wound. With a shudder, the body gave in under the strength it had, and began to lower to the ground. The snapping and rearranging of bones sounded over the woman's voice and the cries of the men across the valley. The wings began to give way, changing from slippery flesh to soft, black hair. The wind blew through the locks, but even that could not stop it from straightening perfectly. The dragon had transformed itself into a woman, a woman of perfection. Skin pale, hair like night, and golden eyes. The remaining dragons in the air landed and wings began wrapping viciously around the array coloured bodies.
"Foolish mortal, what useless possessions have you brought with you?" The female dragon advanced on the wounded woman, "Have you not learned, Deirdre, that no matter what you do, this land is ours?"
The voice echoed across the valley, men stopped their fleeing to watch the exchange, to watch their leader fall under the beast's claws.
"We would have granted your every wish little one. We would have given you stars." The dragon closed in now, her height towering over the broken woman like a storm.
The woman turned her head away, the breath of the dragon flowing down upon her. Her pale skin cracked, her cheek burned, the flesh pulling away like it was being ripped off. Yet, despite the wounds and a dragon breathing down upon her, the woman turned once again to face her doom.
Piercing brown eyes met gold, and Deirdre forced the amulet between the two of them, "It ends here, Malise."
The dragon laughed; her black mane of hair thrown back as she looked to the sky and laughed.
"With this amulet, I forfeit my life. With this amulet, I forsake my descendents. With this amulet, you shall be defeated. Captivitas Draco Sanies!" The woman screamed, until the blood came from her throat, impossible to heal. Her voice echoed further, spreading from the valley to cover the vast of England, a country destroyed.
"Wretch!" The words left the dragon's mouth, and even then it began to pull towards the amulet.
The other dragons across the valley began ripping through hasty transformations, desperate to escape the fate that awaited them. Like weak flowers their bodies began to fall apart, disappearing into the wind, trails of red, purple, green, and black in the wind. Deirdre's hand clutched the chain, her body beginning to give way, her voice long gone.
Malise ripped at her chest, deep scratches from dragon talons letting the blood flow down her black dress. Wings sprang from her back against command, crumbling down, bringing her to her knees. Skin tore, the blue of veins popping in her arms and neck. The flesh on her legs began to peel away like that on Deirdre's cheek. The skin bubbled, turning an eerie black, melting into something that was not seen. Her fist raised in the air, claws piercing human skin, until that too disappeared, leaving the claws enclosed and white bone. It remained until her wrist was broken, snapping, leaving her harmless on the burned ground. Only then did she begin to wisp away like her fellow dragons.
When the dragons had gone from the valley, trapped away in the amulet carried by a dying woman, no one thought to celebrate. Their eyes trained on their falling leader. Deirdre first came to her knees, the chain still lifted. Her breathing became hard and labored, blood beginning to spread across her chest from invisible wounds. Her head looked to be torn back, a blue light tearing away from her throat, into the sky, shooting higher than any could see. When her body fell forward, devoid of life, a small cast of light remained in the far off night sky, a light that would later be known as the Savior's Star.
The knights and other fighters stepped forward, some limping, some missing limbs, all burned. They eyed the woman. Her sacrifice had saved a population, saved a country.
From the edges of the valley, through flame and smoke, came a group of men, all black cloaked and walking in certain order. They reached the fallen spot of Deirdre, where her body was already began to disappear. The clear head of the group knelt and grasped the chain into his hand. He passed it back, and whispered to the other men.
Only certain words drifted over the breeze to the knights, yet they would not be forgotten in centuries to come.
"Sahara…the Hamün Daer…it shall never be released."