A Dragon On Fire __top__ ›

The creature coiled atop the King’s Tower was a wound in reality. Its scales, once the color of midnight, now glowed with the white-hot veins of a dying star. Patches of its hide had sublimated into pure gas, revealing a core of liquid rage. A dragon on fire isn’t burning; it’s becoming .

Flames cascade down its obsidian spine, turning each spike into a molten torch. Smoke, thick as tar and sweet as pitch, coils from its nostrils, painting the sky in shades of bruised purple and crimson. Its wings, leathery membranes stretched across bones of volcanic glass, beat once, sending a shockwave of superheated air across the plains. To look upon it is to see the sun fall to earth—beautiful, catastrophic, and utterly absolute. a dragon on fire

Kaelen’s lance trembled in his grip. He had trained for a dragon—a green, scaled beast with acidic bile and a lazy eye. He had not trained for this . The creature coiled atop the King’s Tower was

Every breath the thing took sucked the oxygen from a mile around. Trees withered. Men gasped. When it finally turned its head, Kaelen saw its eyes—not reptilian slits, but twin furnaces where sanity had long since melted away. The dragon opened its maw. A dragon on fire isn’t burning; it’s becoming