"After facing the relentless pandemic showdowns, many long for the glow of a new dawn and crave bright life stories with liberating slapsticks to shatter silenced desolation and pent-up rage, restoring self-value and broken identity."
- Erik Pevernagie, Stilling Our Mind
The night was still as the twinkling stars illuminated the dark sky and gentle waves of the ocean crashed against the shore, creating a melody that was soothing to the ears. It was a perfect night in every way, but there was a distant whistling sound that pierced the silence of the night. A massive figure emerged from the darkness, its body blending seamlessly into the night sky, with only its crimson eyes visible from a distance.
The rider on the dragon's back was silent, his gaze fixed on the ocean as he watched a school of scauldrons swimming beneath the surface, oblivious to the danger that lurked above. With 25 years of nighttime work under his belt, the rider's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could see the large shadows of the sea dragons moving at a leisurely pace.
The dragon that carried the rider was graceful and silent as it soared through the air, its razor-sharp talons at the ready to pluck a decent-sized scauldron that swam farther away from the group. The rider knew his companion was hungry, as the rumbling of its stomach was impossible to ignore.
As they approached the ocean, the man allowed his companion to take the lead. They both knew that the unsuspecting dragon would eventually have to surface for air, despite its natural ability to hold its breath for long periods.
As they drew closer to the dragon, it suddenly lifted its head to take a deep breath. Its eyes narrowed suspiciously as it scanned its surroundings, sensing that it was not alone.
Without a moment's hesitation, the duo sprang into action with lightning speed. In a flash, they had seized the dragon's thin neck in their powerful jaws and lifted it high into the air. The dragon growled and screeched in fury as it was taken further and further away from its pod.
The man and his companion moved swiftly, their movements coordinated and precise. They knew that they had to act quickly if they were to succeed in their mission. With every passing moment, the dragon grew more and more agitated, thrashing about in a desperate attempt to break free. But the man and his companion held on tightly, determined to complete their task no matter the cost.
With one swift and forceful motion, there was a resounding crack as the creature's neck was snapped, bringing its movements to an abrupt end. They decided to take a break at a nearby island to eat and rest since the northern market was still quite a distance away.
The man stood there, observing his companion tearing into the carcass of the freshly hunted prey with an insatiable hunger. He took a few steps forward and looked around the island which they had just landed on. The island was mostly barren with a few scattered forests and rock formations. In the center was a large lagoon, the waters of which were crystal clear.
As the man surveyed the surroundings, he remembered that boulder-class dragons loved inhabiting areas where there was an abundance of rocks. He knew that it would be dangerous to venture too far without adequate preparation. However, he also knew that fresh kills were highly valued in the northern market and it would be worth the risk to start their day by hunting some prey to earn some keep.
The bustling northern markets were an embodiment of the Viking way of life, filled with a flurry of activity and a sense of purpose. The air was thick with the sweat and toil of hard-working Vikings engaged in various types of heavy labor - fishermen hauling in their catch, hunters returning from their expeditions with their quarry, and blacksmiths pounding away at their forges. Amidst the commotion, traders set up their stalls, their wares laid out in an enticing display to attract any customer that came by. The markets were a hub of commerce and community, where people from all walks of life mingled and bartered with each other, forging new relationships and strengthening old ones.
The sky was still enveloped in darkness, with only a few scattered stars twinkling above. The air was filled with a sense of calmness and serenity as if the world was holding its breath in anticipation of the new day. The streets were filled with Vikings, and the sound of boisterous laughter and lively chatter echoed through the narrow alleyways, as a group of Vikings were in the midst of a raucous celebration and catching up with old friends.
Beneath the surface of the market's lively facade, an air of uncertainty and desperation prevailed. Although the vendors and shoppers went about their business, the recent attacks by the Berkians had left an indelible mark on the market's prosperity. The stalls that once overflowed with fresh produce and exotic goods were now half-empty, with vendors struggling to make ends meet. The once-bustling alleyways were now quieter, with the occasional hushed conversation between merchants discussing the latest developments in the ongoing conflict. Despite the market's valiant efforts to maintain its reputation as a hub of commerce, the effects of the Berkian attacks were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. The market appeared to be bustling with activity, but beneath the surface, things were not as they seemed. Despite its apparent prosperity, the market was suffering from the recent attacks by the Berkians, causing a significant decline in its performance. The once-thriving hub of commerce now struggled to maintain its position.
The Berkian dragon riders' decision to target dragon hunters' expeditions has had a far-reaching impact on the dragon trade market. The market has seen a considerable decline in the number of captured dragons being transported for sale to the highest bidder, leading to a noticeable drop in activity. The once-bustling marketplace now appears to be in a state of hibernation, with the dragon hunters unable to capture as many dragons as they used to. The change in the market dynamics has caused the prices of the available dragons to skyrocket, with buyers willing to pay exorbitant amounts to acquire them. The situation has put the dragon hunters in a precarious position, as they struggle to adapt to the new reality.
The atmosphere was thick with unease and doubt, as the people of the northern market questioned the future of their livelihood. They wondered if they could recover from the tragic events that had recently befallen them - the crushing defeat of Krogan and Viggo, and the loss of their fearless leader, Drago Bludvist. Despite their determination, the market was facing strong opposition from the dragon riders, which added to their already existing struggles. Many were left wondering if the market would be able to rise from this ordeal or if it would eventually perish under the weight of these challenges.
The Vikings were in the midst of a lively conversation when suddenly, a piercing whistling sound shattered the air. The sound was soon followed by a thunderous roar that echoed across the land, signaling the approach of a massive dragon. In an instant, chaos ensued as every Viking scrambled to arm themselves with whatever weapons they could find. Those who were unarmed quickly made their way to the nearest blacksmith, where weapons were being forged and distributed with utmost urgency. The air was thick with the metallic scent of freshly sharpened blades, as the Vikings prepared to face the fierce creature that was now bearing down upon them.
The traders, their faces contorted with fear, hastily retreated inside their trading post to seek refuge from the impending fight. They knew that any dragon that would venture into this area would be a formidable foe. As they huddled together in the safety of the building, they were suddenly jolted by a deafening roar that echoed through the air, sending shivers down their spines. From the sheer power of the bellowing sound, they could tell that the dragon was massive, perhaps even as large as a typhoomerang. Every breath was held as they waited, wondering what kind of beast would emerge from the shadows.
The seasoned dragon hunters were well-versed in identifying the distinct roars of all the dragons they had encountered in their hunts. However, the roar that echoed was unfamiliar to them, which made this dragon a mysterious and unpredictable threat. Despite this, there was one roar that every hunter recognized immediately, a bone-chilling sound that filled them with dread and signaled imminent danger.
The eerie sound of whistling pierced the stillness of the night air as an enormous form descended upon the marketplace, landing before the towering rock that stood as a sentinel over the area. The creature's appearance remained shrouded in mystery, as it always chose to arrive under the cover of darkness, its imposing figure obscured by the shadows. The fearsome reputation of this dragon was such that even the bravest of dragon hunters wouldn't dare to engage it in battle.
The dragon that haunted the northern market had no official name, but the locals had dubbed it 'The Winged Shadow', a title fitting for a creature of its formidable reputation. Its arrival over two decades ago had become the stuff of legend, with tales describing a monstrous beast with eyes that burned a fiery red, said to be the personal servant of Hela, the Goddess of Death. Whispers spread of its gruesome work, a merchant of souls, preying upon the unfortunate that crossed its path. Its method of operation was brutal, leaving behind a trail of eviscerated and mutilated dragon corpses that barely resembled their former selves. The northern market was a grim reminder of its presence, the streets stained red with the blood of its victims.
The mysterious dragon gradually descended from the boulder and came to a halt right outside the bustling market. Its eyes were the only thing visible in the vicinity, bloody red that filled many onlookers with dread. The leaders of the guild approached with caution, stopping at a safe distance, and observed as a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness. The figure was Grimnir, a well-known presence in the market who never revealed his face or spoke a word. His enigmatic presence added to the mystique of the already intriguing market, always leaving many to wonder about his true identity and motives. It had been 15 years since anyone had seen them and were left to ponder if someone had gotten lucky and had killed him or if his own beast had turned against them.
The enigmatic newcomer had puzzled everyone since he first arrived. He was renowned as a dragon hunter, but unlike the others in his trade, he had a reputation for killing the creatures instead of keeping them alive for profit. This had earned him both admiration and disdain from those around him, who couldn't quite understand his motivations. Despite the mystery that surrounded him, he remained a force to be reckoned with, feared by both dragons and dragon hunters alike.
Without hesitation, several boulder-class dragons were thrown into the center of the plaza. The crowd gasped in awe at the sight of the majestic creatures. There were gronckles, hotburples, a few catastrophic quakens, and whispering deaths. The hides of the dragons were in perfect condition, and the only sign of damage was puncture wounds around the neck and belly area. It was clear that these wounds were caused by a bow and arrow or spear.
The guild leaders examined the cargo with great interest, and it was clear that they were pleased with what they saw. The man remained stoic, watching as the guild leaders made their decision. After some discussion, they nodded in agreement and the man was rewarded with pounds of gold.
Grimnir proceeded towards the trading post to obtain his supplies and materials, conducting his business with a resolute demeanor. He remained undeterred by the vigilant gaze of onlookers, who scrutinized his every action like a falcon hunting its prey, while simultaneously diverting their attention towards his reptilian companion.
As the bustling crowd began to disperse, each person returning to their own business, only one person remained. The sole figure stood out as they were cloaked from head to toe, revealing only their emerald green eyes, which appeared to be glazed over, and their long, dark hair. Unbeknownst to the crowd, this individual, Heather, was a spy operating in the northern markets to dismantle the dragon-killing rings and rescue dragons who were captured and sold off. She was filled with sizzling anger at the thought of Grimmir, who had tossed the majestic creatures around as if they were mere trash.
Heather trailed Grimmir as he made his way around the trading post, purchasing large quantities of metals and supplies. She observed that he was carrying a well-crafted spear, an ax, a bow and arrow, and a club with razor-metal spikes. She suspected that he had even more weapons concealed under his bulky cloak but dared not move any closer for fear of being detected.
Suddenly, Heather felt a pair of piercing eyes on her and slowly turned around to see who was watching her. In the darkness, she spotted a pair of red eyes intently watching her every move. It was a dragon, which was unusual, considering it was protecting a dragon killer. Heather was disgusted at the thought of a dragon being used against its own kind and enslaved against its will. She suspected that Grimmir had done something to the dragon to make it obey their commands.
Grimmir had just finished tending to his necessities and was now on his way to join his dragon for their planned hunts. However, he couldn't help but notice that someone was following him during his supply run. He knew better than to underestimate the potential harm that this person could bring, so he hastened to finish his errands and swiftly disappeared under the cover of the night.
Once he reached his dragon, he positioned himself on the saddle, preparing for the upcoming flight. He could feel the tension building up in his muscles as the dragon propelled them both into the sky, leaving the market's commotion far behind. Meanwhile, Heather noticing that the pair were leaving quickly left the market toward her own dragon that was safely hidden away in a cave not far from where the market resided, she urged Windshear to fly as fast as possible seeing how the duo was already at a far distance, she steering her razor whip dragon to its limits to catch up with them.
She had to put a stop to these mass killings, she had to.
Author Note:
Dear readers,
I hope you are all enjoying this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. As some of you may have noticed, I have decided to make my chapters shorter, ranging from 2,000 to 3,000 words. This decision was made to make it easier for me to update this story as I go consistently.
However, I wanted to let you know that I may face delays in updates due to my busy schedule. I have a number of tests and projects to complete, but I will do my best to work on the next chapters whenever I have free time.
I also wanted to take a moment to talk a bit more about the story itself. I was inspired by the story "Fracture" by Fireflythe10th, as well as an episode of Race to the Edge where a dragon hunter bonded with a terrible terror. Although I cannot recall the name of the episode, it left a lasting impression on me and I knew I had to incorporate the idea into my own work. Also for those who are curious the title for this chapter means "new dawn" and I know is not very creative but I thought it would fit this story based on the setting that I decided to place it in.
Thank you for your continued support and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.
Best regards.