Dragon Fiction Novels & Stories

Abigail laughed, “You silly boy. Druids are elementals and can control nature and speak to its creatures where witches deal more with spirits and familiars, some witches even channeling spirits. We use chants and tools to help us with our craft, where druids use instinct and are born with an affinity for it." The dragon snorted, drawing our attention. It turned its massive head to look at us, glaring at us as it moved to stand between us and Amaya. Amaya followed its gaze and looked at us a little unhappily, she replied. " I am angry with them, but don’t hurt them." She told the dragon goodbye before she walked over to us. “What do you want?” she asked, annoyed. “First off, you are lucky you

Alicia decided she had to see if he was still conscious before determining if she could help him or not. One quiet step at a time, Alicia came upon the dragon. He was blue, purple, and green and his skin shone in the sunlight like oil. Being a girl who knew no fear, she carefully reached a hand out to touch him. After all, it was not every day that you got to touch a dragon, she thought. He didn’t open his eyes when she gently touched the side of his face. That gave her courage to examine him. Alicia had hopes to be a Doctor of Animals, but she knew that was just a dream. No one would take a woman seriously.

Once Draco left, I thoroughly checked tiny hut, there were empty pots, I hurriedly carried two pots outside and filled them with water from water well that was behind this hut and brought that back in, since it was warm as burning frying pan I decided to take cold water bath, I scrub and cleaned my body clean, once done I washed my gown and hung it up on string that was inside tiny washroom and walked out by wrapping towel around my body, this was thin and short town that was reaching up to my knees. I sat on small wooden stool that was present inside, since Draco was not back yet , I decided to go though my bag, I pulled out all four books that was written by my grandmother on Dark Creature

Then, with one small jump, Draco threw himself into the lake. The power of Albus, the White Dragon in the lake water, became a medium for the other dragons' magic stones power to be absorbed into Draco's body. The process of fusing dragon magic energy into Draco's body was perfect. The color of the lake changed and blended beautifully as the dragon's magic energy flowed into Draco's body. There were tattoos with a new color on Draco's body in ancient rune characters. On his back was written in draconic characters for every type of dragon that has been encountered, namely Fire Breath, Green Forest, Silver Metal. The three dragons' power gave color and strengthened the heart of Jergintarth's r

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

Nessa said pointing to a painting of a Chinese water dragon she had hanging on the cave wall. “Black scales? I know of only one dragon with black scales. That is Fafnir, he became the king of all dragons after his father sacrificed himself to create our world. Unless I am mistaken, which I must admit, is almost never” Al’ik said stroking her chin. “Now that I have something to go on for wound though I read the healing texts and there is only one way to heal such a wound, treating it requires you to be awake, and it will be painful. I will have to stich all broken muscle fibers and tendons back together manually using magic weave.”

"Did you say there's a dragon beneath the cave? I thought all the dragons died out thousands of years ago?" "You also thought that unicorns and werewolves were legends until a year ago. Here we are living among you now, so who's to say that dragons aren't real and walking this earth as well. There is a great dragon beneath the cave and his name is Draco. Draco is a great green dragon with hot fire and tough scales. His eyes are yellow and his tongue is red and he wants all the world of men to be dead. The last time he saw a human he burned them alive. I think you should tell him that you are a witch. That should save your life."

Alexi had told me that the longer they were in their world, the longer it would take for them to return, and I cursed my heart for falling too deeply in love with them. Martha told me the most interesting story when she saw the mark on my shoulder. The patient I had thought was challenged initially happened to be a heartbroken dragon mate who lost her mind while waiting for her mate to return. The moment she saw the mark, she began to cry, telling me they won't return. She showed me her mark, and I realised she was the one that wrote the infamous' Fucked by Dragons' book. I asked her why she did not tell me the truth and made up all those crazy stories, and she asked me if I would have belie

The one my mother told about in the story. Seeing the diamond graffiti written in dark red liquid on its temple, I know it was that dragon. The vetrik Jihn drakon. Its chest began to appear red as if the beast swallowed tons of coals on its throat. Its eyes glowed dark while its huge snout began to open in what seemed to be prepared to release something.

I step closer to him until the firelight reflects in my scales. “You mistake comfort for strength,” I say quietly. The circle falls silent. “We are dragons,” I continue. “Apex creatures forged in flame and storm. We ruled both realms once because we were meant to.” “And the fae?” someone asks. “They understood hierarchy.” “Until the Madrigals,” another mutters. “Yes.” Madrigals. Half-blood bridges. Living compromises. They were meant to be tools. Instead they became symbols. And symbols are far more dangerous. I pace slowly around the fire pit.