The Dragonborn Novels & Stories

His pupils grew round and full, like a bird of prey watching a mouse. What was Spencer? What had I gotten myself into? I should have just stayed home and confronted Nolan and my sister. If I had it would suck, but I wouldn’t be about to be possibly murdered by someone who might not be human. A rumbling growl came from deep in Spencer’s chest and he leaned back slightly on his barstool. Watching me with those eerie looking eyes. “I’m a dragon.” The words were raspy and didn’t sound human. It was almost a growl, but not quiet, something animalistic. A warning.

She questioned me with confused face and I turned my head up to stare deep in her eyes. “Every Dragon person has their own Dragon sprit which is our original Dragon form that we change into…. King Jamerian Borg he was a ghost who was living in mortal body of King Erlenduris because of which he was able to see my true form when we visited him in conference hall” I explained her

Vaelora said. “Yes. So this is how it works. Not all, but many DragonBorns are born with a dragon egg. This egg hatches over the years into a dragon, which becomes their flamebound. More like a life partner." "Okay." Vaelora nodded attentively. "Every Dragonborn Sovereign king is special. Each king is born with a Golden Dragon. The Golden Dragon is different from every other dragon. It can also be called 'the royal dragon'." "So, it is more like the king over the other dragons?" Vaelora asked.

Should that happen, the Stone will lose its faith in Dragons. The Stone is known to have a Soul of its own. It is pure and of true heart, which means that its host must be as well. Potential hosts are raised to be loved and cared for. Each is born with a Stone inside them, but only after being chosen does the Soul of the Stone appear. Apparently, no one knows who the next host could be and there are about a hundred potentials. After the Soul of the Stone moves on, will the Stone be activated and allow the Dragon King to find them. The only thing I didn’t understand was why I was reborn.

When he wanted to, he could look like a purely murderous creature. His dragon was equally as impressive. He was still small, considering he was only seventeen, but he was a deep ruby red dragon. Garren confirmed that he was a fire dragon, and with time he would be able to emit enough heat to melt gold with just a touch of his fingers. He could already make small flames form in his palms.

A deep, ancient growl echoed from the void. Selene and Nyra froze, swords lowered. Selene’s eyes narrowed. “No… this can’t be.” Nyra steadied her breath. “The prophecy... ” she whispered; “Mother of Ruin… Daughter of Flame… The sky cracks…” From the breach descended something beyond magic, an ancient presence, older than gods. A colossal form, coalescing from storm clouds: a dragon wrought of lightning and shadow, wings spanning the horizon. Its eyes glowed molten white; its roar shook the very foundations.

It was indescribably enduring. Both surprised and excited, Darryl took the baby dragon into his hand so delicately as though he was scared he would drop it. The baby dragon looked intently at Darryl like it's known him for a very long time. It squeaked and leaned into Darryl with its tiny head. Indeed, the baby dragon's soul once belonged to Jewel. Diaochan had merged her soul into the dragon egg with a special technique and hence, Jewel's soul still existed within the realm and was overwhelmed with joy at the sight of Darryl. However, dragons were the most powerful enchanted beast in the world with long lifespan and formidable powers. Their growth could be extremely slow in the eyes of a mo

When he wanted to, he could look like a purely murderous creature. His dragon was equally as impressive. He was still small, considering he was only seventeen, but he was a deep ruby red dragon. Garren confirmed that he was a fire dragon, and with time he would be able to emit enough heat to melt gold with just a touch of his fingers. He could already make small flames form in his palms.

A loud growl sounded from the far side of the house, and the sound of heavy paws hitting the marble floor followed. “Mommy’s home,” I called out and walked to the pet food cabin, took out some goodies, and turned to find gold eyes staring at me. I smiled and walked to my fur baby, a beast on four heavy paws and a whole 300 pounds of muscles. Drogon was a six-year-old tiger I had adopted, after rescuing him from the wildfire in Australia. He was a big baby with heavy muscles, snow-white fur with midnight black stripes, and I loved him more than life itself.