The wind screamed in his ears, roaring past his wings as Vezdaryon soared high above the broken bones of Valyria.
The ash-filled sky stretched wide in every direction, painted in smudges of smoke and firelight. Clouds gathered thick and low, boiling with the breath of ancient volcanoes. Far below, the once-great capital of the Freehold lay crumbled and forgotten rivers of lava running through its shattered avenues like blood through veins.
Vezdaryon had become part of this land now. He'd learned its moods, its winds, its silence. And today, something in that silence twisted. A wrongness. A tension.
It came with the wind.
A scent.
Sharp. Animal. Old blood. Challenge.
His wings stiffened. His head turned, nostrils flaring. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the horizon, following the strange, clawed feeling crawling up his spine.
He wasn't alone in the sky.
Then he saw it.
A dark shape circling above a ridge of cracked obsidian peaks wings broad, talons tucked beneath, gliding in wide spirals. Not a dragon. Too lean. No flame riding its breath. A wyvern.
And not just any.
This one was bigger than the last he had fought. He could see the power in its shoulders, the cruel curve of its claws. Its hide was a dark bronze mottled with red, and its head was crowned with jagged horns like shattered swords. It saw him too and did not flee.
It roared.
A low, ugly bellow that cut through the air like a war horn. A challenge.
Vezdaryon didn't hesitate.
He pulled in his wings, tilted his body, and dropped from the sky like a spear.
The rush of air peeled back his lips in a silent snarl, fire building in his throat, his vision tunneling to that single shape. The wyvern reacted too late. He was already there a blur of black wings and fire.
He unleashed it mid-dive.
Flames erupted from his jaws, a blinding torrent of gold and red that caught the wyvern full in the flank. The beast shrieked, banking sharply, but Vezdaryon followed close now, wings straining, blood pounding.
They twisted into the sky in a spiraling dance of fury and fire.
Claws clashed. Teeth snapped.
Vezdaryon felt the sting of a rake across his chest, the sharp burn of talons catching under a scale. But he struck back harder, raking his claws across the wyvern's wing, tearing at the membrane. They broke apart, then crashed together again, locked midair like dueling stormclouds.
Ash exploded around them. The air screamed with their roars.
The wyvern lunged at his throat a killing blow but Vezdaryon tucked his wings and spun, narrowly avoiding the bite. He countered with a burst of flame, searing the side of its face. The wyvern screeched, spiraling upward, flapping hard to gain the high ground.
Vezdaryon followed.
The sky above Valyria became their arena no ground to bind them, only the endless dance of predator and prey.
They rose higher and higher, circling. Vezdaryon's muscles burned. His wings ached. But he was calm beneath the fury. Focused. Every movement calculated. He waited for the wyvern to commit to grow overconfident.
And when it dove…
He met it head-on.
The two beasts slammed together with a thunderous crack. Talons locked. Wings beat furiously. Vezdaryon bit down hard into the wyvern's neck, drawing thick, hot blood. The wyvern thrashed, scoring his side with savage claws. They tumbled through the sky, locked in death's embrace.
The ground rushed closer.
But just before they hit, Vezdaryon forced his wings open and twisted his body. The wyvern slammed into him again mid-flight, nearly knocking him off balance, but he recovered, rising above and banking hard to the left.
Then he saw it.
The wyvern's right wing was damaged. The edge torn where his claws had raked it earlier. The beast struggled to climb now, slower, less stable.
Vezdaryon's eyes blazed.
He surged forward, climbing into the sun.
The wyvern followed slower now, bleeding, roaring in fury.
At the apex of his climb, Vezdaryon turned midair, wings folding close. He let gravity take him, falling like fire itself. A streak of living flame.
He struck the wyvern like a falling star.
The force of the impact jarred his bones, but he didn't let go. He clamped his claws into the beast's shoulders, forcing it downward. The wyvern screeched, flapping wildly but Vezdaryon wrapped his wings around it like a cloak and bit down on its throat.
Not enough to kill.
Just to hold.
They fell, spinning, locked together.
The clouds tore past. Ash whipped around them.
Then Vezdaryon opened his wings and broke away.
The wyvern tried to recover wings flailing, tail lashing.
That's when Vezdaryon looped back and struck again from behind.
His jaws snapped shut over the back of the beast's neck. This time, no hesitation. No mercy. His fire burned hot inside him, but he didn't release it not for this.
He bit down.
And tore.
Bone cracked. The wyvern's scream turned into a gurgle.
Vezdaryon ripped its head free with a final, savage wrench of his jaws.
The body went limp. It dropped from the sky like a broken comet and disappeared into the cloud-thick depths below.
Vezdaryon hovered above, wings wide, panting hard, blood dripping from his maw.
His heart thundered.
He had done it. Again.
But this time, it felt different.
He didn't roar. He didn't exult. He only hovered in the silence, the wind howling past, his blood still boiling with the heat of battle.
It hadn't been rage. Not instinct.
He had wanted this fight.
And he had enjoyed it.
The thrill. The clarity of it. The purity of motion and intent. For the first time in years, he hadn't thought about his old life. He hadn't been haunted by the past.
He had only flown. Hunted. Survived.
He drifted on the wind now, his wings steady as he glided above Valyria's smoking peaks.
The sky was his again.
And somewhere deep within his chest, the fire stirred not for destruction, but for something more primal.
Freedom.
He was no longer a boy trapped in a dragon's body.
He was Vezdaryon.
Son of flame and destruction.
And the sky would remember his name.
——
Enjoy the chapter!