Vanishing Dragon Novels & Stories

"Vane activated it." The Null boy—no, he needed a name. I couldn't call him Null anymore. But that was a problem for later. If there was a later. He grabbed my arm. His fingers were ice. "The Dragon isn't a weapon," he said. "It's a thing. The Council found it thirty years ago, sleeping under the Pacific. They've been feeding it Variants ever since. Keeping it asleep. But Vane just woke it up." The ground shook. A crack split the volcano from top to bottom.

Under the circumstances, even the most powerful gods would find it difficult to save him. Finally, the nine golden dragons slowly disappeared. Darryl glanced at Vincent with an expression cold as ice, leaving without saying another word. Vincent had been significantly wounded by the Ascension of Nine Dragons, and he would not have much longer to live. There was no need to waste any further time on him. What mattered most was finding the right place to build the Chaos Transportation Array. In the blink of an eye, Darryl had disappeared beyond sight. Vincent lay watching his retreating figure, unable to return to his senses for a long time. He had finally realized then who he had been messing

Marcus looked at Kiran with a serious expression and said, "Young Master York, thank you for helping Imperial Dragon protect the dragon vein. As a member of The Imperial Dragon, I am very grateful." Kiran noticed Marcus's conflicted expression and knew something was up. "Just get to the point." "The dragon vein of Dragonsmount is lost," Marcus said, his voice filled with complexity and frustration. "Lost?" Lilian asked in surprise. "Yes, it's lost!" Marcus nodded firmly, his eyes serious. "When did it disappear?" Lilian asked again. "About twelve years ago, it suddenly vanished. I reported it to Imperial Dragon headquarters, but no one responded. It's been an unresolved mystery ever since,"

"Suddenly, I saw the dragon being attacked by an unseen force. The dragon roared in pain as its scales were torn apart. I could see the blood oozing from the it's wounds. I felt helpless, unable to do anything to stop the attack." There was a long pause and she didn't speak for awhile. " Aahemmm.. Interesting dream Liana. But where was I in it? " I tried teasing her to lighten her mood up. But she turned and cupped my face between her palms and whispered, " It was you Draco... You are the dragon. " Her eyes flickered as she scanned me for what answers I had no clue about, " And do you know the worse part? I saw you scattering into ashes, I stretched my arms to reach you but you seemed so dis

Darkness turned to red, then gold, then white. The shadow of Lord Dragon screamed in terror. “No… you’ll—” “I know,” Rayden cut him off. “But I’ve gone too far to fear dying now.” Flames swallowed them both. The remaining dragon spirits screamed, then grew quiet. The Void began to collapse like glass melted from the inside. And in the middle of that blinding light, only one voice remained: “Rayden Kalesvara Duskar… no longer exists. What remains is only flame that chose to become light.”

What was happening hung at a certain boundary and after infinitely long moments began to unfold at a double speed. The magic beam flashed a crimson light and, breaking away from the staffs of the delonkhs, hit the dragon. The monstrous skeleton managed to half turn around, swept away a wide strip of still living trees with its tail, at the same time threw back part of the army of walking corpses and plowed deep furrows in the ground with its claws. A step towards the magicians, the beam hits the vertebrae under the crest, makes the dragon freeze, several sharp pieces break off from the bones, fly down, and the risen monster growls and howls, filling the space with paralyzing power. The Dalon

“The Gods were winning. The Dragons were on their side. All of them were burning down people and civilizations. But one dragon rebelled against its own kind. He was the Dragon of the Wind, the largest and strongest dragon of all. After the war, he disappeared.” Lavi knows it all. Ras told him this story many years ago. The Gods of Veneer are silently waiting to be awoken but if they are revived, they will destroy the world. Before that can happen, Lavi must unlock his powers. Only the Dragon of the Wind can be the indestructible weapon against them. But the prophecy is standing in their way. As a dragon, he is connected with his mate. The very mate who cannot live if he lives. One of them mu

The grey-haired lady once again silently appeared at her original spot beside Verra, "it is too late for that now. If you wish to leave, apologize to these youngsters and beg for forgiveness." "Hmm," Wanton huffed in displeasure. "I would die first," he said while spitting on the floor to show his conviction. "That's what I wanted to hear," Xara said with a brilliant smile on her small face. She raised her hand over her head and a millisecond later the sky was filled with smoldering molten metal. The entire sea converged to form a massive dragon with no wings a long spiky tail. The dragon roared and molten metal flashed as it moved its body through the air and towards Wanton.

Besides, it is better that she doesn't see what happens next. There are no survivors, I make sure of it as I walk the valley one last time, obliterating any traces of my brother's army, blasting any who try to escape from the sky with my firey breath. Their screams fill the morning like birdsong as their wings turn to cinders and what is left of their corpses land with a hard, dull thunk before burning out. I repeat this again and again, taking joy in the moment when they realize that I am no longer Primus, the Dragon Prince.

The end of the world smelled of sulfur and crushed violets. Princess Saoirse, the last true blood of the Dragon Kings, stood before the cracked vanity mirror in the servant’s quarters. Her hands trembled violently as she destroyed her birthright. The paste—a foul mixture of river mud, crushed walnut shells, and soot—felt cold and slimy against her scalp. Outside, the sky was bleeding. The Dragon Kingdom of Aethelgard, a realm of glass spires and singing winds, was dying. It wasn't dying quietly. It was screaming under the iron treads of the Empire’s war machines.