Chapter 6 - First Tribulation (1/3)

[Discourse #2]

I stared at my little “guest,” who had chosen to enter my domain, knowing that questions were running through their mind. I had, after all, chosen to withhold parts of the story, leaving out certain details. It was more amusing that way—and some things are better left unsaid.

Now, I suppose I should clear up a misconception you might have about dragons, particularly my family. Unlike most other dragons, we were more intelligent and more ancient in our ways. By that, I refer to the training my mother put me through when I was a wyrm. It was vastly different from what the lesser dragons experienced. Their broods were not subjected to life-threatening training like we were. We were of the old generation, far superior to the newer dragons. And though we were part of Astlan—the collective name for the clans of the old dragons—our family belonged to one of the most superior clans.

As I soon found out, my mother was no ordinary dragon. She was one of the mightiest, from the oldest and most powerful bloodline. Our simple names reflected our wyrm status, mere babes to her, undeserving of true names—at least, not until our training was complete.

Ah, our dear mother dragon—fierce, enormous, fiery, harsh, indifferent, and brutal.

Once more, I locked eyes with my guest, knowing I would have to kill them once my story was finished. I did not relish the task, for I had come to like my only audience. My guest had such brave eyes, green and unafraid, a rare trait when staring into the eyes of a dragon. They even complemented my own emerald gaze.

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The fourteenth day of training reared its ugly head at the crack of dawn. We followed our mother into the depths of the northern forest and arrived at an ancient-looking arena. It was circular in shape, spanning more than two hundred feet in diameter by my estimate. The perimeter, made entirely of stone, had walls no more than six feet high. The inside was bare, with rough soil and no obstacles. "Ancient," "plain-looking," and "large" summed it up perfectly.

Gazing at the arena, my mother, and my wyrm siblings, I knew what was coming. We would fight, either as a group or individually. Perhaps more gremlins or stronger foes awaited us. My curiosity about new creatures was boundless—one aspect of my personality that remained unchanged even in this new life as a dragon. Thinking back now, I wish my assumptions had been correct. It would have been better than the reality of what awaited us.

Yes, the fourteenth and final, most dangerous day of our wyrm training would be a deathmatch between siblings, a fight to the death until only one or none of us remained. There was no choice. Mother made it clear—anyone who fled the arena or refused to fight would be killed by her own hand. Even now, I remember that grim day clearly, despite being a fully grown dragon.

My state of mind was perplexed, tinged with annoyance. What was the point of us siblings killing each other? Would it not weaken our family? The question would have to wait. Cold determination and survival instincts took over, flooding my body with focus.

In the center of the arena, we all readied ourselves, prepared to use any means necessary to kill at the first sign of weakness. I could feel the cold anger rising, the hard soil under my talons grounding me. Scarlet, the largest of us, stood ahead, while Blue and Yellow were to my left and right. All of us were poised for battle, and I waited for mother to give the signal.

I glanced at Blue and Yellow, giving them a barely noticeable nod before locking eyes with Scarlet. Crimson as blood, he was the biggest threat, and none of us were confident we could take him down alone.

Mother, standing just outside the arena's perimeter, looked indifferent—perhaps more so than usual. The realization dawned on me, and as if on cue, she gave the order to start the deathmatch.

On all fours, wings folded since aerial combat was forbidden, I dashed toward Yellow, ignoring Scarlet and Blue. The sudden betrayal caught them off guard, especially Scarlet. His usual cruel, indifferent expression faltered. He must have assumed we would team up against him, resigning himself to the inevitable. But before anyone could react, I had already closed the distance between Yellow and myself.

Yellow recovered quickly, but it was too late. My momentum was unstoppable. I pounced, knocking him down with a tumble, his soft underbelly exposed. But I didn’t aim for his belly. I went straight for his head.

My jaws clamped down hard on his snout and brow-ridge, iron-like teeth piercing the softer scales. I tasted his blood—hot, almost like fire itself. It was intoxicating, a sensation I could only compare to a human’s most intense pleasure coupled with their favorite meal. But I had no time to savor the flavor. I disengaged, spitting out pieces of leathery flesh and what remained of his eye.

Yellow's face was a mangled mess, his left eye gone, his right eye half intact. A single bite, and a brother was dying. His agonized roar echoed through the arena, quickly followed by another from Blue.

I glanced at Blue and saw my suspicion confirmed. The twin wyrms shared their pain. Blue, his yellow eyes blazing with fury, charged at me, blinded by rage.

But he never reached me.

Scarlet, swift and merciless, attacked from behind. His larger teeth clamped onto Blue’s throat, though unable to pierce the scales. With his greater weight, Scarlet pinned Blue down and, using his talons, stabbed them into Blue’s left eye. The sickening crunch of bone and flesh echoed as Scarlet pulled his bloodied claws free. Blue's final scream filled the air before his body went still.

Scarlet turned to me, a cruel smile on his bloodstained face.

"You made a smart choice, brother. If you had teamed up with them, you’d have been next. Now, it’s just the two of us."

His red eyes gleamed with excitement as we faced off.