8. Tiamat

Chapter 8

Tiamat

As I watch my cousin's legion of demons move across the battlefield, collecting the skulls of our fallen enemies, a sense of satisfaction washes over me. It's a grim task, but one that brings me a strange sort of joy. I know that my mother will share the harvest with the dragons, their presence a reminder of the symbiotic relationship we share.

But even as I take solace in the grim work being done, I force myself to refocus on the task at hand. I turn my gaze upward, the jagged rock face of the mountain looming ominously before me. It's a daunting obstacle, one that will not be easy for our non-dragon family members to traverse.

"Nikita," I call out, my voice cutting through the stillness of the battlefield. "Get your skeletons to start climbing again. The dragons will shift and carry you, mom, and Michael to the top."

It's a simple command, but one that carries a weight of authority. In this moment, I feel a sense of power coursing through my veins, a newfound confidence born from the blood memories of my ancestor and the gift of Gallus's memories. With each passing moment, I feel myself growing stronger, more attuned to the ancient magic that flows through my veins.

Beside Rex, I am more than likely the most powerful being on this battlefield. It's a realization that fills me with a sense of purpose, a determination to lead my family to victory, no matter the cost.

As the skeletons begin their ascent and the dragons prepare to shift, I stand tall, mentally preparing for the next leg of our journey. And as we prepare to face whatever challenges lie ahead, I know that with my newfound power, nothing will stand in our way.

As I observe my mother's transformation, a mixture of awe and curiosity fills me. Like myself, she was the product of extensive genetic manipulation by the elves. It's a recently learned fact that has shaped both our lives in profound ways.

The elves, with their insatiable thirst for power and control, meddled in the lives of my ancestors. They engineered unions and manipulated bloodlines to suit their own twisted purposes. They played at being gods, choosing who would be paired with whom and dictating the course of our lineage.

And here we sit, two beings born of their interference, each bearing the mark of their meddling in our very essence. My mother, a hybrid of ice dragon and Marelup Lycan, is a testament to their arrogance and folly. She should not exist, for in nature, children of mixed species mating are typically either one species or the other, never a combination of the two.

Yet my mother defies convention, her existence a living paradox that challenges the very laws of nature. She is a creature of ice and fury, a fusion of two worlds that should never have been brought together. And yet, here she stands before me, a testament to the power of magic and the folly of those who seek to control it.

As I watch her shift back into her hybrid form, I can't help but wonder at the implications of our existence. What other secrets lie buried in our bloodline, waiting to be uncovered? And what role do we play in the grand tapestry of fate that the elves have woven for us?

But for now, I push aside these questions, focusing instead on the task at hand. For in the midst of war, there is no time for contemplation or reflection. There is only the relentless march of battle, and the unyielding determination to emerge victorious against all odds. And as I stand beside my mother, I know that together, we will face whatever challenges lie ahead, drawing strength from the blood that courses through our veins and the bond that binds us as family.

As I shift into my majestic dragon form, a surge of power courses through my veins, the weight of centuries of draconic heritage settling upon my massive frame. With a shake of my scales, I stretch out my wings, feeling the rush of wind against my leathery skin.

My mother, ever the fearless warrior, climbs onto my back, her presence a reassuring weight between the horns on my head. With a flick of my tail, I lower the frill on my back, providing her with added protection amidst the chaos of battle.

Turning my gaze to the other dragons in our family, I see a similar scene unfolding. Rex, the ancient wyrm, stands tall and proud. His massive form is a testament to the countless years he has spent roaming the skies. Nikita and Michael, my cousin, and her mate, stand confidently on his head, their expressions determined as they prepare for the coming onslaught.

I am not much smaller than Rex, a fact that sets my mind racing with thoughts and questions. Despite being a fraction of his age, I am almost his size, a realization that fills me with a sense of wonder and curiosity. How is it possible that I have grown so quickly, surpassing even the oldest and most powerful dragons in our midst?

But there is no time to dwell on such matters now, not when the fate of our realm hangs in the balance. With a mighty roar, I signal to the rest of our surface army, urging them to climb onto our backs and prepare for battle. Side by side, we stand united, a formidable force against the darkness that threatens to engulf us.

And as we take to the skies, the wind whipping through our scales and the roar of battle echoing in our ears. I know that together, we will face whatever challenges lie ahead, drawing strength from the bonds that unite us as family and the power that courses through our veins as dragons.

As the wind rushes over my scales, the sensation is both exhilarating and comforting, a reminder of the freedom and power that comes with flight. With each powerful beat of my wings, I propel us higher into the sky, my massive form soaring effortlessly through the air.

Below us, I can see hundreds of dark denizens moving en-mass towards a darkened horizon, their twisted forms a stark contrast against the backdrop of the sky. My gut tells me we need to head in that direction, that the source of our enemy's strength lies somewhere beyond the horizon.

But it is not just intuition guiding me. The pull of the spell I used to locate Austin's missing head tugs at my senses, drawing me ever closer to our destination. With each passing moment, the pull grows stronger, a beacon of guidance amidst the chaos of battle.

I roar through the dragon bond, my voice echoing in the minds of my kin, telling them what I am sensing. Rex, ever the wise and ancient wyrm, agrees with me, his reassurance bolstering my confidence tenfold. With a slight tilt of my head, I signal for him to take the lead. It is better to let someone with thousands of years of experience to guide us to victory than for me to lead us to our doom.

And so, with Rex at the helm, we set off towards the darkened horizon, our wings beating in unison as we soar through the sky. As we journey onwards, I can't help but feel a sense of determination coursing through my veins, knowing that whatever challenges lie ahead, we will face them together, united in purpose and strength.

As Rex suddenly banks right in mid-flight, a sense of urgency fills the air, and we follow his lead without question. The wind whips around us as we adjust our course, the rush of air against our scales a constant reminder of the speed at which we are traveling.

Before long, we find ourselves descending towards a tar-like river, its dark surface shimmering ominously in the fading light. With a graceful landing, our army clambers off Rex's back, their movements fluid and practiced.

As Rex shifts back into his human form, we approach him cautiously, our eyes trained on him as he speaks. His voice is heavy with emotion as he reveals the truth: they have mages capable of controlling dragons, and it was they who imprisoned him.

A chill runs down my spine at his words, the implications sinking in. If they can control dragons, then we are facing an enemy unlike any we have encountered before. But we were prepared for such a possibility, thanks to Nikita's foresight.

She produces a handful of bracelets from her pocket, each one glinting in the dim light. "This will protect your dragon," she explains, her tone grave. "As long as you don't shift. You can use your powers, but don't even raise a single scale or talon."

We nod solemnly as she passes out the bands, the weight of the situation settling heavily upon us. With these bracelets, we may have a chance against the enemy's control, but it is a fragile hope at best.

As I slip the protective band onto my wrist, a surge of resistance courses through me, my dragon fighting against the foreign magic. I can feel her panic, her instinctive urge to break free and unleash her power upon our enemies. But I know we must remain calm, that we cannot afford to become puppets in the hands of the Drow.

Mentally, I reach out to my dragon, soothing her fears and explaining the necessity of our restraint. We must eliminate the threat first, I tell her, and then we can unleash our fury upon our enemies once more. After several tense moments, she calms and stills within my mind, her presence a comforting presence amidst the chaos that surrounds us.

Turning my attention back to the situation at hand, I find myself torn between uncertainty and determination. "So what's next?" I ask, my gaze shifting between Nikita and Rex. For Nikita, the Underdark is a part of the Hellscape that she controls, a realm of darkness and shadow that holds both danger and opportunity.

In response to my question, Nikita raises her hands, and the tar-like river beneath us begins to move and swirl. White orbs rise from its depths, swirling around us like a macabre dance. And then, one by one, the hollow eye sockets of skulls emerge from the darkness, their empty gazes fixed upon us with an eerie intensity.

I realize then that Nikita is raising a larger army, summoning the forces of the Underdark to aid us in our fight against the Drow. It's a bold move, one that fills me with a sense of awe and trepidation. Shit, just got real. I realize, as the magnitude of what we are about to face sinks in. But with Nikita's power at our side, I know we will face whatever challenges lie ahead, armed to the teeth.

As the skeleton horde rises around us, a sense of awe washes over me at the sight of their eerie assembly. Each skeletal figure stands tall and resolute, their bones gleaming in the dim light of the Underdark. With each movement, they reach down to the ground, pulling up weapons from the mud below.

Swords and axes emerge from the earth at their command, followed by shields and maces, each piece rising to meet them as if called forth by some unseen force. It's a haunting sight, watching the army assemble before us, their forms clad in ancient armor and armed for battle.

Soon, the army is ready, a formidable force standing at the ready, their ranks bristling with weapons and armor. As I watch, Nikita shifts, her form transforming into Death Eternal, a fearsome sight to behold. She mounts her skeletal horse, Khlōros, with an air of authority, her scythe gleaming in the darkness.

Beside her, Michael also shifts, his form becoming the embodiment of War itself. With a steady hand, he climbs onto his blood-red heavy draft horse, his presence commanding and imposing.

As Nikita raises her scythe, the army stands at attention, their skeletal forms rigid and unyielding. It's a moment of eerie silence, the tension palpable in the air as we prepare to go to war against the forces of darkness.

And as the first rays of dawn break over the horizon, casting a golden glow upon the battlefield, I know we are ready. With Nikita and Michael leading the charge, and the larger skeleton horde at our side, we will face whatever challenges lie ahead with courage and determination.