Dragon Masters Author Novels & Stories

“I am starting to believe you are a spy from the Emperor.” “You mistake me, my friend,” Estevan shook his head, holding his chest, “I am a chronicler … well, not for now. But I’ll become one someday after I finish my first book. It’s called the Way of Dragons. As it happens, we chroniclers travel a lot just to gather stories, facts, and histories. But for the most part, we explore and discover all things about the world from our own experiences. But I must say, I’m very fortunate to have real dragons in front of me to whom I can ask questions. You see, I have been formulating many theories about you … and guess what I just found out—one of them is just proven today. Dragons can talk indeed!”

So, why did the master stop? He, as the slave was ready for countless rounds... could it be that the master couldn't even do a second round? Uea's brows furrowed as sadness welled up in his heart. This was bad. He had just fantasized about how wonderful this arc was, and then his master was a useless one-round man... Uea's felt his tear pooling up. He no longer liked this arc! Wait, who wrote it this way? Uea's dragon master in the original book was supposed to do the main character until he fainted and then did him till he woke up again.

“They have no animal. They can pursue a more extensive study of magic and strategy. Some are like a jack of all trades, but the real impressive ones are the ones who develop one area and achieve significant potential.” Xaden spoke about it all so casually, that I found it easy to listen to him and understand his words. “So… What about the Dragon Masters?” I kept my voice low; the reactions of Principal Rapport and Professor Howl were significant proof to keep this subject on the down low. Xaden tightened his jaw, guiding me towards the doorway that led outside. “Dragon masters are… special. They are a variant, chosen either from wizards, or shifters, by dragons…” My feet tangle within themse

The prince of the rouges growled. Drake was panting, gasping for air. He closes his eyes, feeling the presence of the beating heart. As he opened his eyes, it was blood red. He wore the devil's eye. It was cold, dark, mysterious, and dangerous. The prince of the rouges steps backward, trembling. He didn't try to struggle off the chain; he just wore his dangerous lopsided grin.

“With the help of me and my four brothers. That first video is real, and it is my brother Mitchell. Each of my brothers' dragons is a different color. Mine happens to be red.” I just sat staring at him. “What about those dreams all those months ago?” “My great grandfather had a gift and I think I inherited it. Yet somehow this gift brought you into it. Somehow you experienced what I was.” “And this bonding dream? Are you saying we are bonded for life?” “Yeah. My dragon recognized you even through the dreams as my mate.” I look over at the TV and saw Draco the dragon. “You look like that only red?” He smiled as he looked at the screen, “I would like to think my dragon is nicer looking.”

They dressed in white, a counterpart to the order of the Black Knights and honoring Nayara’s bright scales. There came a time, however, when the forces of both humanity and Dragon would be tested, though not in the way any of them might have expected. Neyalha, the Dragon Mother, ageless and seemingly exceedingly wise, grew more and more restless. Her mate Gheyaral did not understand. Together they had created this world, and from his perspective all was proceeding well. Yet Neyalha continued to grow more and more unsettled as she observed the actions of the life she had seeded so many ages before.

Solomon POV The journey to my brother’s realm was short, but the apprehension I felt was a never-ending feeling. I was worried. Things in the realm were changing. I was worried about First Dragon and his children. Soon, he would find out our biggest secret, one we hid from him to save him. I did not know how he would react and what that would entail. My thoughts went to my great granddaughter, Dragana, the Tribrid, who somehow found herself in the center of all this mess, through no fault of her own. So many think that having magic and power is the solution to life’s problems. How wrong they were, I mused to myself.

Flavius's eyes widen at Neron's words as he chokes out a cough. "A den of beast is not the words I'd use to describe this place. But I must admit this has been a very educational experience," Flavius tells him. "That is because we dragons are seekers of vast knowledge. My horde alone holds one of the largest archives in Midgar. You are bound to learn a thing or two staying here," I say. "As much as I would love to continue discussing the extensive knowledge of dragons there is a point to our arrival," Daniel says. "Awe yes, I nearly forgot. As stated in the original deal between our people I've brought with me the requested weaponry and medical kits," Neron tells us.

I say. “I had no idea,” Flavius responds. “Alira plays a major part in dragon culture. Anyways back to the story, I was going to tell,” I laugh at myself for getting distracted. He nods, urging me to continue. "Thousands of years ago, before dragons or humans walked the Earth, there was a goddess, Alira. Alira was the goddess of war, fire, and wrath. Though she was powerful, she was also lonely and jealous; many of the other gods had created their own races to live on earth, such as the fae and the elves. Alira wanted the creation of her own. Thus, she made dragons. She was very proud of her creation, as the dragons were everything that the other races were and more; they were beautiful, str

Sergeant Miller dragged a militia member with a corroded wound backward. I took a deep breath. We could not retreat. I took off my jacket and stood bare-chested on the highest point of the reef. At that moment, I pushed the Dragon Lord talent to its limit. Golden light surged from my chest and spread through my blood vessels across my body. Faint scale patterns appeared on my skin, and my eyes turned into vertical pupils. Half-dragon form, unlocked ahead of schedule. "Break." Golden pressure swept outward from me like a tangible storm.