The Rise Of The Dragon นิยาย & เรื่องราว

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.

What about The Imperial Dragon? Given their combat forces, were they planning to conquer this dragon and harness its power? In his mind, a clear image of The Imperial Dragon and PowerHub gradually began to take shape. Both forces were like sharp swords. One wanted to harness and control the dragon. The other wanted to control the country’s economy and lifeblood. “I see!” The enlightenment sparked a surge of vehement and dauntless heat in his eyes. Now, he had unraveled more mysteries and understood the truth better. “I, Kiran York, will revive the York family and crush your dreams in Bayville!” His eyes blazed with fighting intent.

But then again, eight millennia ago, the first pure blood witch, Latoya, had prophesied that the Dragon king shall rise again and when he does, he shall burn the Gods Land to smithereens with his wrath. Or so the legend says.

The dragon blinked a final time and averted its eyes somewhere else as if it had heard her whisper and honored her plea. That was weird. Although the dragon had looked elsewhere, Evrah couldn't help but stare at it. She watched the destruction and chaos it brought to life. The obliteration it seemed to revel in. All of them seemed to be enjoying their devastating results. She had watched them chase folks down, spitting the elements and flame in the direction of her fellows. She had watched as they set everything ablaze, their massive wings fanning the flames as they burned the brightness and vibrancy of existence into nothingness.

Never mind, it’s not like I have much of an appetite or want to be around people these days. I grab something quick from the kitchen on my way to my room. I end my day exactly how I start it, by writing good night to Corinna, waiting until the ‘delivered’ sign changes to ‘read’, where I breathe a sigh of relief and put the phone down, closing my eyes with the knowledge she’s still there. Two weeks later, everything changes. Xander lost an ally and pack, whereas I lost my Lead Warrior, but I gained a new ally, an Alpha, along with his brand new Luna and a pack willing to help us.

The prince was dead. I lifted my hands. They shook. I remembered the strange fire that had been on my skin. The King wanted a dragon. Maybe I would give him one. My breath came deep and slow. A new feeling rose in my chest. It was not fear. It was not sadness. It was fire. It was anger. Hot, red, dragon anger.

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Empire shifted tectonically under Kenji's chessboard; my pieces no longer pawns. Evening found him in lounge depths, scotch amber glowing city-veined glass, obsidian gaze lifting as stilettos clicked approach. No words—just stare loaded double-meanings, dragon pulse leaping throat under my dissection. Vengeance sealed blood ties, stalking forged new chains. Tension simmered, no boil, slow burn, atmospheric lethal—his to ruin, mine to claim.

In fact, majority of the people had chosen to forget that there was a thirteenth noble house ruled by the Whitby's. All they knew about him was that he had become a religious fanatic who ran a gathering of people who believed in Dragons and the Vita Navitas. "Silver Falcon!" Rhaegal, the head of the bandits called out to him after watching him approach his tent for a while and he turned slowly. The Head of the bandits, Rhaeghal, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. he had heard about the Silver Falcon, but never met the man in person. All the business they did together was always conducted by a middleman of the sorts. He had believed it was so because Silver Falcon was probably too old to stan

Rhazion turned one last time toward his son. Verath looked suddenly young. Like a child hearing impossible things. “What are you doing?” he asked. Rhazion smiled sadly. “Buying time.” Then the ancient Dragon King launched himself into the sky Straight toward the fracture. And as he ascended, his body began to change. Grow. Expand. Burn. Until he became something even the other dragons feared. His true form.