Book Dragon Art Novels & Stories

King Chen said. He then steps forward and slowly gathering lots of sand around them using his power. Everyone was amaze of what they are seeing right now. He created a huge hammer made of sand. “I am giving all of you a chance to get out from the house and surrender yourselves . . . Or I will kill all of you.” They waited a few minutes. But Drakaina couldn't wait. She was too bored to wait, and she really wants to kill those evils.

The familiar, teasing lilt in his words makes another surge of boneless gratitude sweep through Alcina, and she curves closer to Brendan subconsciously. With gentle hands, she picks up one of the dragons with black scales, glittering like polished obsidian whenever the light hits - and sets it with tremulous care on Brendan's lap. Alcina lifts one of Brendan's hands and holds it out by the palm to the tiny creature. It blinks owlishly at Brendan's hand, and Brendan briefly contemplates if he won't have to reign in his Gift's urge to lash out again if the dragon chooses to bite him instead. (Again.)

My expectations of hefty magic tomes full of spells were quickly dashed. Laney’s idea of books was limited to fairy tales about princesses and knights and, of course, magic. Not exactly what I had in mind. As far as she was concerned, if it didn’t interest her, it didn’t exist. “This one’s really good,” she informed me, holding up a thin novel called Loved By Two Dragons. “He’s a dragon, but he’s also a handsome boy. But his brother’s even more handsome, and he’s an even bigger dragon!”

"Tell me everything your parents told you about my family." I sighed, a shameful blush coating my ears. I could still feel the burn behind my ear. It felt raw, especially as blood rushed in a telltale flush. "They told me a lot of things. And, I'm going to preface this by saying I thought the dragon thing was a metaphor. I didn't know it was a literal thing." Thane laughed suddenly. "So sirens, sorceresses, chimeras, all valid and real, but you draw the line at water dragons?"

Ona had been the one to show me that it was a history of sorts, a retelling of the foundations of the master lines from which all other dragon varieties diverge, "What if I were to tell you that Oestre had no mate?" He pulls out another book, one bound in black fabric and sewn with silver thread. "That the mother of us all was herself a universal dragon. A lone traveler from another universe who dreamed this realm into reality." Bringing the book to a table he opens it to reveal a wonderous illustration. Etched in metallic ink, it shows a beautiful golden dragon surrounded by shadow. "Oestre wasn't the first dragon. She was the last one," he reads the symbols on the edge of the pages, a lang

“Vampires and Dragonkin don’t usually mingle, but yes I have some in stock.” “We’re special like that.” Milo grinned and chose a seat near the bed where I’d sat down. “What kind of art do you want?” He didn’t make any introductions so I didn’t feel the need to introduce us either. I pulled a sheet from my jacket pocket and handed it to him. I’d already designed it myself but if he was as good as I thought he was then he’d redraw it. “It’s in cuneiform, two names and a black baccara rose with thorns on the stem.”

"If I could access these memories without knowing it, then whoever created DragonCoin might be in the same position—channelling dragon knowledge through technology without understanding the consequences." The car hummed as it accelerated onto the highway, its engine producing that strange purring sound that seemed to resonate with something deep in Sage's chest. The sensation was oddly comforting, like finding a missing piece of herself she hadn't known was gone. "First lesson," Marcus said, glancing at her. "Breath control. Dragons don't breathe fire—that's a human misconception. What we do is manipulate elemental energies through focused respiration." "Really starting with the basics, aren

My miracle. He was five now—soft curls, bright eyes, skin that held the golden warmth of a sunbeam. He had a gentle heart and a stubborn streak I know too well. And right now, he was coloring a giant red dragon with a blue crown. “It’s you,” he said suddenly, sitting up. I blinked. “Me?” Kelvin nodded solemnly and held up the drawing. The dragon was strong, with large wings, and it hovered over a small castle. “You’re the queen dragon. And you protect the castle from bad guys.”

His lips quivered in fear as he stared at the dragon's eyes, which were like flames and body, so ancient and dark. “What do you want?” Minerva asked absentmindedly as the dragon stared into her soul. It nudged her head, its snout as if he could read her mind. Then it looked away from her. Behind her, Vincent stood there, a protective hawk. He didn't like it that there was another watching out for Minerva. “I don't like this dragon,” Vincent murmured. Minerva would have laughed if they were not in a situation like this. The dragon tilted its head as if he heard what Vincent had said. Then it moved his attention back to Minerva.

Because I was having fun. And apparently fun made me dizzy, I conjured floating lights and flowers. Illusions and even tiny storms. Glittering butterflies. A miniature dragon made entirely from purple energy. The dragon immediately bit my finger. “Ow!” The dragon vanished, he as as grumpy as Conrad. I laughed despite myself. Perhaps if I could make a miniature dragon, I could make a bigger one to help us in the war. But that would require more practice, at least I could be useful.