Chapter 578: The Stolen Wild Dragon

Green Hell.

The vast primeval forest stretched endlessly, encompassing mountains, wastelands, and swamps under a star-speckled sky. In an unnamed valley, the ground was strewn with rubble and debris, the remnants of something long forgotten.

Pop!

The sharp sound of a blade piercing flesh echoed through the night. Rhaegar, clad in a black robe with silver hair partially obscuring his piercing eyes, drove the "Dawn" spear into the neck of a dragon-shaped skeleton.

The skeleton was in a pitiful state, with only a thin layer of decayed flesh clinging to the bones. The spear penetrated a section of the neck that bore clear signs of gnawing, leaving behind a charred stain on the bone.

"Brother, is this a wyvern?" Daeron asked, his young face illuminated by the small fire he had just lit, a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

Rhaegar pulled the spear free and examined the charred residue on his fingertips. This skeleton had been discovered by chance. Judging by the level of decay and the scorching climate of Sothoryos, the creature had been dead for no more than three days.

"Are there any signs of wild dragons?" Daeron asked, suddenly alert.

"I can't be sure," Rhaegar replied, picking up a burning branch and moving away from the fire. "It's getting late. You stay here. I'll scout the area."

If this were a wyvern's habitat, traces of wild dragons might be nearby. Daeron hesitated but eventually nodded, staying by the fire as instructed.

"Roar!"

Tessarion lay atop the valley, his gaze fixed on the somber rider below. The dragon's pupils were wide, and its spirit shone brightly in the night.

...

Rhaegar stepped carefully on the gravel in the valley, the torch in his hand pushing back the encroaching darkness. He noted with interest how wyverns seemed to favor gravelly terrain—something worth sharing with the Dragonkeepers back home.

Hoo—

A gust of night wind swept through the valley, causing the torch's flames to flicker and dance. Rhaegar tilted his head, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. In a concealed corner of the valley, an uneven cave entrance came into view. At the mouth of the cave, a large mound of dried, blackened dragon dung was piled high. The stench was overpowering, a pungent mix of sulfur and decay.

There was no mistaking it—this was the dung of a giant dragon.

Rhaegar unsheathed the Dawn Lance, murmuring, "Apologies, old friend," before plunging the spear into the mound.

The blade, a foot long, slid easily into the dung, revealing its interior to be hard and dry, far from the sticky consistency of fresh waste. 'At least three days old,' Rhaegar thought, his eyes brightening as he bypassed the pile and ventured into the cave.

The size of the dung pile caught his attention—it was enormous, nearly half as tall as a man. The dragon that produced it must have been truly massive. 'It could be the wild dragon I encountered in the Sea of Dorne,' he mused, his mind racing as he navigated the dim cave.

Click!

His foot struck something hard, like a round stone. Rhaegar looked down and discovered two colorful wyvern eggs partially buried in the sand.

...

It was midnight. The campfire blazed brightly, the crackling flames driving away the relentless mosquitoes. Rhaegar returned to camp, walking slowly and cradling two wyvern eggs in his arms.

"Brother," Daeron greeted him, taking the wyvern eggs as he tended to a steak sizzling over the fire.

"I found a pile of dragon dung. We need to be cautious," Rhaegar said, frowning. He was never fond of playing hide-and-seek with danger.

"It's fine. At least we have a clue," Daeron replied, understanding that their main goal was to find fresh blood for Sunfyre. Discovering signs of wild dragons wasn't unexpected. After all, the Cannibal itself was once a wild dragon. No one knew whether it hatched on Dragonstone or wandered to Dragonmont, a living volcano, to nest. One day, another wild dragon might follow the scent and fly to Dragonstone.

Rhaegar smiled, his gaze drifting toward the valley where the Cannibal rested. The massive dragon, exhausted from a day of flying, lay sprawled on the ground like a mountain of coal, its eyes closed in deep slumber.

Suddenly, Rhaegar froze, his expression curious. "Where is your dragon?" he asked.

Daeron glanced around, then said, "Probably out hunting." Tessarion, being smaller, found it easier to cover long distances. It was common for him to sleep in the forest during the day and hunt at night.

Rhaegar's frown deepened. "There are wild dragons in Green Hell. We shouldn't stray too far from our dragons."

Those who had suffered knew all too well that a dragonrider was nothing without their dragon.

...

On the other side of the forest, a magnificent cobalt-blue dragon lay nestled among the trees, snorting softly as it sniffed the air, inching deeper into the vast wilderness. Suddenly, the dragon's head snapped up, its pupils flashing with curiosity. A strange scent had caught its attention, leading it toward an unremarkable low mountain in the distance.

"Roar!"

With a roar of excitement, the dragon spread its wings and soared into the sky, flying swiftly toward the source of the intriguing scent.

...

The night grew deeper, casting an even darker shadow over the valley. The two brothers slept in their clothes, but Rhaegar seemed troubled, his brow furrowed and his body slightly hunched as if burdened by uneasy dreams.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the stillness.

"Roar..."

The Cannibal's eyes snapped open, its green pupils narrowing with fierce intensity. With a powerful leap, it launched itself into the sky.

"Roar... Roar..."

From the darkness, a swarm of small dragon-like creatures emerged, bursting into the night like a plague of locusts. The Cannibal surged into their midst, its massive jaws snapping up seven or eight at once, sending pieces of their flesh flying.

"Hiss... hiss..."

As they revealed their true forms, the creatures were less than a meter long, with uneven ridges along their backs and bellies the color of brown mud. These were a dangerous offshoot of the wyverns, notorious for their swarming behavior, akin to bats or wasps. Individually weak, they could strip an elephant to its skeleton in moments when they attacked in numbers.

"Roar!"

The Cannibal's pupils widened in fury, and it unleashed a torrent of dark green dragonfire. The flames spread quickly, like smoke and mist, igniting the night sky with a deadly, greenish glow. The wyverns shrieked in pain, colliding with one another and spreading the dragonfire like a plague. Soon, the sky was raining green fire, a lethal downpour of burning flesh.

Cannibal snorted in disdain, darting through the fiery rain, devouring charred wyvern carcasses with ease. No creature dared to challenge it and live.

In the valley below, Rhaegar awoke as expected, blinking at the sky. For a moment, it seemed like a meteor shower.

"What's happening?" Daeron mumbled sleepily.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep," Rhaegar replied, spotting the Cannibal's silhouette and relaxing. The wild and once untamed dragon was more than a match for the dangers of this harsh land.

However, unseen by them, a pair of copper-colored vertical pupils watched the scene unfold from a distance. Deep within a lush, primeval forest, a massive creature lay hidden, its dark green form covered in moss. Its breath was so hot that it scorched the grass and trees around it. The amber-colored eyes followed the Cannibal's movements, filled with deep-seated vigilance and hostility.

Even from miles away, the familiar stench of ash filled its nostrils, a scent that made the creature sick with loathing.

...

A low mountain.

"Roar!" Tessarion followed the scent, gliding over the rugged terrain until it finally discovered an underground cave. The entrance was dark and deep, radiating intense heat that piqued the dragon's curiosity. Tessarion's head tilted slightly, its limited instincts urging it forward, drawn by the familiar warmth of fire. Without a second thought, the dragon ventured into the cave.

Plop!

With a misstep, Tessarion's wings failed to catch the ground, and it tumbled headlong into a pool of hot spring water, sending a towering wave crashing against the cave walls.

"Roar... Roar..."

Panic gripped Tessarion as it choked on a mouthful of the steaming water, nearly drowning in the process. The heat, however, kept its blood simmering, preventing the shock from overwhelming it. In a frantic scramble, it clambered out of the sulfurous pool, dripping wet and trembling.

As Tessarion lifted its head, it froze in awe. The cave was vast, its walls adorned with rope-like roots descending from above, and glimmering crystals embedded in the stone. In the center of the cave bubbled the hot spring, its white steam rising like ghostly tendrils.

"Roar?" Tessarion's pupils dilated as if it had stumbled upon paradise. Entranced, it began gnawing on a shiny crystal, oblivious to everything else around it.

The cave was connected to the earth's molten core, and the searing heat reminded Tessarion of Dragonmont. It pranced about, splashing in delight, but then, without warning—

Crack!

Tessarion's snout, full of crystals, stepped on something unusual. It turned to find a dark mass of dragon dung beneath its claws. The hardened outer shell of the dung had cracked, and as Tessarion lifted its cobalt-blue claws, a sticky, hot mess oozed out. Two eggs—one black, the other yellow—rolled away, narrowly avoiding its claws.

"Roar?" Tessarion's pupils contracted, and it lowered its head, spotting a broken eggshell beneath its claws. The shell was green and white, with the egg's contents now mixed with dragon dung and mud.

It's broken!

Tessarion's head tilted in confusion, its scarlet tongue flicking back and forth as if trying to understand the situation. But before it could process what had happened, danger closed in.

"Roar—"

A roar, full of rage, echoed through the night, and a blast of hot wind surged into the cave, as powerful as a thousand-ton force. Tessarion's cobalt-blue scales bristled with fear, sensing the imminent threat.

In desperation, Tessarion spat out the crystals and quickly snatched the black dragon egg into its mouth. Panic-stricken, it scrambled up the cave walls, its wings clawing at the earth as its belly scraped against the rough surface, leaving deep furrows in its copper-colored scales.

Before the cave's true master could return, Tessarion bolted out of the cave, fleeing into the forest. In its haste, it unleashed a burst of cobalt-blue dragonfire, igniting a towering pine tree into a blazing torch. Terrified, it flew in the opposite direction, flapping its wings furiously.

Moments later, the night sky filled with howling winds.

"Roar!"

A dark green shadow streaked across the sky and descended upon the cave like a falling star. The impact was immense, forming a deep crater as the enormous dragon landed. The ground trembled as dust and debris scattered.

The wild dragon's pupils were ablaze with murderous intent as it plunged its bare head into the cave, searching frantically. But what it found only fueled its rage. Half of the dragon dung was crushed, and only the yellowish dragon egg remained intact.

"Siong!"

The wild dragon let out a heart-wrenching cry, a mix of anguish and fury. Its desire for revenge now consumed it. With a savage growl, it withdrew its head and glared at the trees ablaze with cobalt-blue dragonfire.

Hoo hoo hoo...

After a deep, furious inhale, it locked onto the direction in which Tessarion had fled. Without hesitation, it spread its massive, milky-yellow wings and soared into the sky.

"Roar!"

The dragon's roar shook the entire primeval forest, sending birds and beasts fleeing in every direction. Tessarion, realizing the gravity of what it had done, glanced back in terror and flapped its wings even harder.

Boom!

Suddenly, a blazing ball of fire fell from the sky. A colossal, moss-covered green dragon, as large as a mountain, loomed above the clouds. Its fangs were razor-sharp, and its mouth gaped wide, dripping with foul-smelling saliva.

Tessarion's pupils constricted in fear as it caught sight of the monstrous dragon, its maw gaping with malice, saliva glistening ominously in the moonlight.

(Word count: 2,017)