The sky was black with smoke.
What sun dared peek through the cloud cover only shimmered faintly behind a veil of ash and flame.
Two dragons, monstrous in form and fury, danced a death waltz through the burning heavens above Dragonstone.
The Cannibal roared, fire vomiting from his mouth in a vile, green torrent that scorched the air with its noxious heat. His bulk moved like a sinking mountain, heavy, slow, but with power that could crush castles.
Vezdaryon didn't meet the flame. He spun through the air, dodging beneath the gout of emerald fire, wings tucking in tight before flaring with brutal grace. He rose with a screeching roar, his own fire erupting in retaliation molten orange clashing against sickly green, the two flames snapping and hissing in midair like clashing swords.
They struck again.
And again.
Claws slashed. Fangs tore. The sky echoed with impacts that cracked like lightning, louder than thunder.
Vezdaryon twisted in the air and slammed his shoulder into the Cannibal's ribs, forcing the elder dragon into a downward spiral. The Cannibal crashed through a stormcloud, wings tearing at the air, barely keeping himself aloft. But he recovered, wheeled wide, and came back snarling with rage.
Both dragons bled. Smoke curled from their wounds. Vezdaryon's left flank was seared from green fire, and one of his horns had cracked at the base, leaking steam and dark blood. The Cannibal wheezed each breath a labored rumble, each beat of his ancient wings slower, more ragged. His face was a ruin of fire and blood, one eye gone, jaw blackened where fire had scorched his own muzzle.
But the old beast wasn't finished.
With a guttural bellow, he surged forward. His jaws snapped toward Vezdaryon's throat but the younger dragon veered, clawing across the Cannibal's face with a brutal rake that peeled back scale and skin in strips.
And then
Vezdaryon dove.
His wings pinned. His body a missile of fury. He roared, not as a creature of this earth, but as something forged of wrath and storm. He didn't dodge. He didn't feint.
He struck.
Right into the Cannibal's face.
There was a crunching crack sickening, like mountains colliding. His jaws sank deep into the ruined remains of the Cannibal's skull, teeth shredding flesh, crunching into bone. The Cannibal shrieked not in rage, but agony.
And Vezdaryon didn't let go.
With a savage jerk, he ripped.
Flesh tore like rotted canvas. Bone cracked. Horn shattered. Vezdaryons tore the Cannibal's entire face off snout, eye, jaw, all of it and flung it to the clouds below, trailing blood like a comet.
The Cannibal, blinded and howling, flailed mid-air.
But Vezdaryon wasn't done.
He dove again, teeth bared, and latched onto the Cannibal's neck just above the shoulder. His fangs sank deep. And this time, he held.
The Cannibal bucked, twisted, wings flapping wildly as if to escape but Vezdaryon only clamped tighter. Fire hissed from his jaws, curling up through the wound and cooking the ancient beast from within. Smoke poured from the Cannibal's mouth and neck, leaking from his gaping face.
Then
SNAP.
A pop, a crunch deep, horrible.
And the Cannibal stopped moving.
His wings shivered.
And then, with a great, final heave, his body ruptured from within a slow, sickening boom that sent gouts of green fire and ash into the sky. The explosion echoed like glass breaking across the world, and from below, it looked like a dying star collapsing midair.
Charred fragments fell in smoking trails.
And then silence.
Vezdaryon plummeted, trailing smoke and blood, wings limp from exhaustion.
But he pulled up just barely. His wings beat once, twice, staggering. He roared, He was victorious.
He simply circled the smoking ruin of the Cannibal's fall and vanished into the clouds.
From the cliffs of Dragonstone to the Narrow Sea, none dared speak.
The sound of thunder faded. The fire died. All that remained was smoke, and the whispered name carried by it.
The Shadow.
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Hope you enjoyed the chapter