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The Dalda Chronicles

by Lilia Peters 2 months ago in Fantasy
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Origin of The Dragon Slayer

There weren't always dragons in the valley.

There weren't always ogres in the valley.

There weren't always monsters.

But when there were...

Aya Dalomeire was summoned.

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"You are a witch."

Aya sneered - the woman's face decaying before her, "I most certainly am not."

"Yes. You are."

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When her azure eyes finally fluttered open, Aya was reminded of the cold biting air, and the impeding danger.

She was sick of dreams.

She hadn't intended on falling asleep. But it was her first time running through a forest from a dragon, and there were first times for everything.

Her body had felt weak.

As she dusted the front of her clothes, and breathed in the smoky air, she briefly thought that perhaps she had wounded the dragon enough to make an escape.

Enough to report back to headquarters and gather support.

But the dreams in her sleep were not the only dreams that Aya had.

The reality of it was that the dragon had been stalking the cave since nightfall.

She had heard the clap of its wings as it circled its prey. For hours.

And even in the budding flecks of dawn, as the crickets hummed undisturbed, she knew that the dragon was out there.

Waiting.

Exiting the cave was a potential death sentence. But so was staying there.

She gathered her claymore. A sharp hiss emanated throughout the cave as it slid into its holster on her back.

She adjusted her leather gloves, tightened her umber braid, and took a deep breath.

"I miss killing demons." She thought.

Demons were easier for her. Smaller. More susceptible to her magic.

Dragons appeared to require much more effort.

Though, this was the first dragon that Aya Dalomeire had ever faced.

She was sure she was going to die.

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Unsuspecting, the dragon had bore its sharp teeth and immolating flames and all Aya could do was run.

Because it was a dragon.

Fierce - mighty - its black scales sparkled in the light of the twisting flames.

She hadn't had time to release her sword from her holster. Her legs appeared to welcome the adrenaline as she dashed across the tree covered fields.

As she twisted and turned and rolled, she could feel the flames biting at her feet.

The guttural rumble that came from the dragons mouth was enough to send chills down her spine.

She flexed her fingers as she awoke her magic and as she dodged to the left she let shards of ice loose from the tips of her hands. They managed to scratch the side of the dragons face.

A mistake she knew because as soon as a single scale was ripped from its cheek, and blood tainted its skin, it released a tremulous scream. It's rage thundered out across the forest.

But a chance was to be taken.

She lifted her hands and summoned her power from the depths of her belly, contracting her fingers until the swell of power burst forth and shards of ice shot out toward the dragon again.

Another screeching cry shook her bones as the ice pierced its flesh.

Aya ran forward and the dragon spewed fire across the fields, igniting every tree in sight.

Her chest heaved.

She released her claymore from its grasp - the echo of the sharp draw still loud above the burning bark and blistering leaves.

She covered her sword in spirit flames. The most effective flames against monsters.

She hoped it worked on dragons too.

As she dodged more and more flames, and struggled over mangled terrain, she found it hard to concentrate.

A hiss left her lips as the dragon's claw twitched against her flesh. Catching the curve of her bare arm and ripping her skin.

It was angry.

She hadn't noticed how far down it had swooped just to get a taste of her flesh.

She thought she heard it chuckle as it rounded the blazing trees to plummet toward her.

The sound drew immediate anger from her.

Immediate power.

Aya felt the churn of energy in the air and instinctively threw her sword to the ground and drew the energy into her palms.

The dragon roared.

Instead of running, or diving for cover, like any sane person would as a giant beast plunged toward them, she lifted the tremors of her magic with the sweep of the wind and force of the earth and let her flames burst forth and crash against the force of the dragon.

Its cries were shrill and foreboding as it released its wings to suspend before her and heave its chest as its flames struggled against her own.

Every muscle in Aya's body strained against the weight of her magic. Against the weight of the dragons power. She willed her body to release every inch of substance as its flames grew stronger and stronger.

Just when she thought her body couldn't give any more - that this was it -this was where she finally died, she felt the currents of her magic inflate and released a steady battle cry as she lifted her hands and advanced toward the dragon.

She felt her veins bursting with magic.

She felt her body overcome with rage.

And finally, she firmly planted her feet and drew in a deep breath.

Her flames engulfed the entirety of the dragons body.

Before her, black flames submerged and suffocated until the last cries of the dying creature were a resounding memory of a fearsome foe fading into the dawn.

To become another myth.

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When the smoky air finally dissolved, and her legs finally decided to work again, she stumbled forward.

Beneath the misty smoke, a crumbled creature cried.

Its dying breaths slow as it groaned against its rotting flesh.

Deceiver.

She thought she felt the words in her mind. A thought that was not her own.

But after the battle she just had, her body was not her own.

The crunch of broken trees echoed from her feet as she stepped closer to the dragon.

Mesmerised by the enormity of the creature, she couldn't take her eyes away.

The mesmerisation continued as what was left of its scales began to dissolve and vanish before her.

The dragons eyes, filled with the swirls of emotion began to change. The white hues of its iris churned with bright orange strands.

Once the scales had completely disappeared, then began its tail.

Then its claws.

Its feet.

And finally, its head.

The smoke cleared and Aya stopped herself from walking any closer.

Because beneath the fading body of a beast, a naked woman was slouched across the charred forest ground.

Evidence of a dragon existing was gone.

The forest, scorched for eternity yes, but the dragon. No more.

The woman struggled to stand - hissing at Aya as she found her feet.

"How dare you." Her voice trembled - eerie amongst all of the emptiness.

Aya was taken aback.

Too bewildered to know what was happening.

"Pathetic human." She spat.

The bristles of her hair were bright orange and haphazard as she began to walk toward Aya.

Aya gulped back fear as she watched the woman's face begin to decay as she stepped closer and closer.

"W-Where did the dragon go?" She uttered, holding up a hand defensively.

Ready to attack if the woman attacked.

Ready to run.

The woman stopped walking. Tilted her head back. And cackled.

Cackled.

The stretch of her neck causing Aya even more unease as it extended back grotesquely.

Her head snapped up with the brief reflection of her laughter and she spat, "The dragon is gone. The dragon is I."

Aya fumbled, "You are the dragon? That's impossible."

The woman walked toward her again. This time faster, and Aya stumbled back.

Pieces of her face fell to the ground as she advanced.

"Yes. Ignorant one. Witches are dragons, dragons are witches. Is that not why you came here? To kill me? To steal my power?"

Aya shook her head.

"You terrorised Dalda. You killed their people. I was hired to kill a dragon."

Another cackle brushed the hair on her arms.

Her skin prickled.

Now the woman stood before her, practically bones as the last of her skin crumbled from her.

"You will accept the power of my dragon stone. The others will come for you. They always come for witches."

"Witches?"

"You are a witch."

Aya sneered - the woman's face decaying before her, "I most certainly am not."

"Yes. You are."

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Fantasy

About the author

Lilia Peters

To delve into the Fantastical has always been a dream.

Worlds with infinite possibilities and heart wrenching romances are what I strive to write and love to read.

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