Platinum Dragon Lord 소설 & 이야기

“Fuck the tip off. That girl’s Madam is one of our ministers’ mistress. She needs to go back to the Madam.” ****

My dragon uncurled from around my bed, his scales hissing against the stone paving as he repositioned himself, sitting catlike, his tail crossing his forepaws. “Daerton,” he murmured. “Out for another moonlight harvest and stumbled over some ale on your way?” “She told me about the prophecy from the Seers of Seigradh.” “Mmm,” the tone was heavy with dragon disinterest. “She says princesses are sacrificial lambs,” Daerton told him. “Bred for the slaughter upon the altar of men’s ambitions. What do you think of that?” Aurien shifted his weight, turning his gaze to the star-studded sky, indifferent but tolerant.

Lizzy mused. “They looked at me as if I was a bug to squash,” Chloe said bitterly. “Perhaps, if they knew your origin, they’d think differently,” Lizzy offered. “Now, tell me about the dragon part. How marvelous to be able to transform into such a majestic beast. How very lucky. Did you know that there is a planet in the Oobla galaxy that has some of the most advanced scientific minds in the universe and these minds are housed within the bodies of dragons? Your Tristan is a blessed soul.”

Carol nodded and said to her that here the white flame represented the light, and that the 3 flames she didn’t know were the black one for the darkness, the purple one for the metal and the last one was silver and represented the lightning. She told her that the greater her reserve of energy would be, the more able she would be to master flames other than the one of fire and light, and that if she had to forge a weapon for the golden dragon, then she would absolutely have to master the purple flame.

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.

Her eyes never left her husband who was leaning against his chair. “We've ruled this kingdom for nine hundred years before Vincent's father took over. And now, his son." Mr Gael started. He pushed to rest his face on his right hand with a long sigh. " I've never set my eyes on a dragon this huge Roseline. That dragon isn't a shifter. It's what we have been looking for for the past generations,” he concluded. Roseline dropped the teacup on the well polished jade tray and raised her head to meet his eyes. "What are you trying to suggest? Coincidence happen–”

He was doing that on purpose. “Alright, you know the rules,” Dominic said, and they nodded. “Go!” He gave the sign, and they started fighting. Arman is a golden dragon, and Adam is something green. “My cousin is an Emerald dragon, a top protector, his mate, Queen Talia, Arman's is the Amethyst Princess… the tale goes that she was bound to die, all of them, never making it, over and over… until now…” Urien whispered, and I looked at Adam under a new light. He was not the ordinary royal, yet he was impressive. A warrior, like Urien, but on steroids. He was stronger, sharper.

Horace leaned in, then roared, "Why is he blue? My son can't be blue!" Silence gripped the crowd. Everyone exchanged glances, no one daring to speak. Dragon royals were born red. It was an ancient rule. Other colors existed among common dragons, but never royalty. A blue dragon, born to the prince's concubine, screamed one thing. She had betrayed him. The crowd's stares burned, and Horace's rage boiled over. He lifted the child and smashed it to the ground, killing it instantly. The gruesome scene made me shudder.

The warlord stood. He was taller than she'd expected. Broader, too. Built like a creature shaped for war, but moved like he could vanish and strike in the same breath. As a child, she had often wondered what a dragon might look like in human skin—a question whispered between old books and nursery rhymes, half-believing it was myth. But if you ever did see one, it was said to be the last sight your eyes would know. And now, here he was: terrifyingly real, terrifyingly calm. A dragon made flesh. And he was looking at her like she was already burning. "You are Sera of House Vaelir," he said, descending toward her with deliberate, predator-slow steps.