The flames of darkness, p.5
The Flames of Darkness, page 5
She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a shimmering dragon's scale, handing it to Everin. The scale was smooth and cold to the touch, its surface gleaming with a shimmering glow. Tariel gave a playful bow as he took another scale from the librarian.
"Will do, Madame Corvella," he said with a grin, making Everin chuckle despite the awkwardness of the situation.
He led her through giant metal doors inside, and she followed him into what seemed like an entirely different world.
"W... ow..."
Everin steadied herself as she stood at the edge of what appeared to be a massive rocky hollow. Definitely larger than a football field.
The library was a cathedral of knowledge. A vast open floor stretched out before them, dropping in tiered levels like a stadium carved into the mountain itself. The air was rich with the scent of parchment, ink, and old enchantments. It felt more like an enchanted amphitheater than a traditional library.
Dragons, sleek and majestic, flew through the air, gliding silently between towers of books. Some carried scrolls or tomes in their claws, while others simply observed from above, their glowing eyes scanning titles as if judging their worth.
Tariel pointed upward. "Smaller dragons fly in between the aisles or lower levels, but the big ones," he paused as a massive, horned dragon soared above, its wings stirring a gust that ruffled Everin’s hair, "mostly stay near the tower tops. Any lower, and they might knock over a shelf or two. And trust me, Madame Corvella would breathe fire herself if that happened."
Students in human form sat at desks below, scribbling notes or chanting softly from open grimoires. Every tower-sized bookshelf had its own spiraling ramp, and delicate ladders leaned precariously along their sides. Crystal lanterns hovered mid-air, casting golden pools of light on reading alcoves and crannies. Arcane symbols shimmered faintly along the bannisters.
"You see this barrier?" Tariel asked. "To pass it, you either need to be in your dragon form or have the passkey."
When she stepped through the barrier, it felt like dipping through a layer of cool mist, tingly, slightly pressurized, and oddly invigorating. On the other side, the air smelled more potent, filled with crackling energy and the hum of magic.
Tariel led the way down a winding staircase carved into the wall, their steps echoing lightly in the vastness. Partway down, they reached a circular platform with a brass pole in the center.
"This is the quick drop," Tariel said casually, just as the platform clicked.
"Wait, the wha—"
Suddenly, the platform dropped.
Everin shrieked and instinctively grabbed onto Tariel’s jacket, yanking it off his shoulder. Her fingers curled tightly around the thick fabric, pulling it down and exposing his sculpted bicep.
Tariel chuckled under his breath but said nothing. He steadied himself by gripping the pole with one hand and looped the other arm firmly around Everin’s waist.
She slammed into his chest with a muffled gasp, her cheek brushing against the crook of his neck. The scent of cedar, fresh spice, and something uniquely him filled her senses. Her lips accidentally grazed the warm skin just below his jaw. Her palm flattened against warm, solid strength.
Her eyes widened. She froze.
"You okay?" Tariel murmured, his voice tinged with teasing amusement.
Everin pulled back slightly, flustered. "Um... I think I just kissed your neck. Sorry."
His eyes twinkled. "Well, that’s one way to make an impression."
Her blush deepened.
The platform slowed, hovering a few feet above the ground before gently coming to a stop. Tariel helped her off, his hand still lightly on her back.
"You’ve got..." she gestured vaguely toward his neck. "Lip gloss. Right... there."
He smirked. "Good. Now I’ve got a souvenir." The rogue didn’t bother to wipe it off.
She rolled her eyes, but her heart was thundering.
They stepped forward into the lowest tier of the grand library, surrounded by magic, mystery, and the beginnings of something neither of them could quite name yet.
As they made their way deeper into the library, Everin spotted Tariya sitting at a table in the back, hunched over a laptop, her fingers flying over the keyboard. She appeared completely absorbed in what she was doing.
Everin made her way over, Tariel following closely behind. As she approached, she noticed Tariya was using a small device with a scanner attachment.
"I thought it wasn’t possible to scan dragon scriptures," Tariel remarked, raising an eyebrow as he peered over Tariya’s shoulder.
Tariya smirked, looking up at him. "It wasn’t... until my uncle got his hands on a special scanner from the black market. It can translate the language of Dracos into English. Saves a lot of time."
Everin raised an eyebrow. "Wait, so you’ve been scanning all these books?"
"Yep," Tariya replied nonchalantly. "You wouldn’t believe how much useful information is here. I’m just looking for some of the older texts about the Hell’s Fire Dragon."
Just then, she paused and squinted at Tariel’s neck.
"Uh, Tariel," she said slowly, smirking. "Is that… lip gloss on your neck?"
Tariel gave her a look of mock horror. "What? I'm a marked dragon now."
Everin turned a shade redder and quickly buried her nose in the nearest book.
"You’re blushing," Tariya teased.
"She’s just admiring your tech," Tariel replied smoothly, taking a seat. "And maybe wondering if I taste like cinnamon."
Everin groaned. "Can we please talk about dragons instead?" Tariya winked. "Only if you stop swooning and start reading."
Everin sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I can’t even read Dracos... How am I supposed to understand all of this?"
Tariya grinned, tapping her device. "Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered." She slid her scanner toward Everin. "Here, use this. It’ll translate everything for you."
Everin reluctantly took the scanner and started looking through the book. Her fingers brushed against a large, ornate page, and she froze when she saw a picture of the Hell’s Fire Dragon, its three heads glaring fiercely from the illustration. She couldn’t look away. The eyes of the dragon seemed too familiar, too intense.
Everin’s breath hitched, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. The dragon's green glowing eyes were the same as the ones she had seen in the bathroom mirror, dark, terrifying, and full of an insatiable hunger. Her thoughts raced. Could it be…? Was she the one this dragon was tied to?
Her hands trembled slightly as she continued to read the page, her stomach tightening with a sense of dread.
Chapter 8
Whispers of Prophecy
A few days after their trip to the library, Everin, Tariel, and Phoenix walked toward the lecture hall for their special class on the Language of Dracos. The air buzzed with quiet unease; none of them had fully shifted yet. Despite their progress and the knowledge they were soaking up at Drakon Academy, the sense of something unfinished clung to them all.
Phoenix was the first to break the silence. “Honestly, I still think the Council’s watching us,” she muttered, hugging her arms around herself. “Not just out of curiosity either. They’re waiting.”
Tariel arched a brow. “Waiting for what? For us to finally sprout wings and start breathing fire in our sleep?”
Phoenix didn’t laugh. “Maybe. Or maybe they’re tracking how we handle things, how long it takes, how we react. Like we’re part of some long experiment.”
Everin glanced between the two of them. “That would explain why they sent the Dragon’s Summon? I mean… my dad got one, that’s why I came.”
Tariel nodded, his jaw tight. “Same. My father got one too. It wasn’t a request; it was a directive. Pack your things. You’re going.”
Phoenix rolled her eyes. “Mine nearly threw the letter in the fire. Said the Bevingtons don’t take orders. But in the end, they sent me. Couldn’t risk defying the Council, could they?”
Everin rubbed her arms, feeling the breeze graze her skin. “But you’ve both known about dragons your whole lives. I only found out the night I partially transformed, and my dad showed up. I thought he was just late for my birthday, then boom, ‘you are a dragon,’ summon, Academy. It was all so fast.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Phoenix said, eyes narrowing. “Most dragon shifters transform in early adolescence, puberty, sometimes younger. Twelve or thirteen, that’s the usual age for first shift.”
“And we’re way past that,” Tariel added. “I’m seventeen. Phoenix is sixteen and a half, while you’ve just turned sixteen. That makes us... anomalies.”
“Late bloomers,” Phoenix supplied, tossing her hair back. “That’s what they call us. Like we’re a special category. Or a warning sign.”
Everin studied Tariel out of the corner of her eye. He laughed lightly, brushing it off, but she sensed something beneath it. He might joke, but she could tell he would rather have been in the Finals, where seventeen-year-olds belonged. Instead, here he was, stuck among the Seniors, and pretending it did not sting. Still, she found herself liking the way he carried it with ease, turning embarrassment into something lighter.
Phoenix huffed. “Look, I’ll be honest. I’m not exactly killing myself trying to shift. What’s the point? I don’t need to breathe fire to get through life. I’d rather spend my time doing my makeup, throwing parties, and living off my family’s money. The heiress thing is way easier than turning into a flying lizard.”
Everin couldn’t help but laugh softly, even though she knew Phoenix meant every word.
As they walked, Everin’s eyes drifted to the edges of the corridor. A pair of squat creatures shuffled past, no higher than her waist. Their bodies looked as though they had been carved from rough stone, thick arms dangling as if unused. From behind each of them trailed a ridged dragon tail that brushed the floor with every step, sweeping up dust in lazy arcs. Draggrels. That was what Tariel had called them earlier: half-troll, half-dragon creatures that made up the Academy's cleaning staff.
One flicked its clawed fingers, and a quill that had rolled beneath a bench lifted into the air and zipped neatly into a student’s satchel. Another scowled as it muttered a guttural spell, and the grimy streaks on a tall stained-glass window melted away like mist. They ignored the passing crowd completely, their stone faces twisted into permanent frowns, grumbling softly as they went about their chores. Watching them, Everin thought they looked both strange and ordinary at once, as if the magic of this school extended even to its janitors.
Everin’s thoughts swirled. She hadn’t known this. Her father had mentioned being late to shapeshift. He had emphasized that the Academy was the safest place for her now. But now it made more sense why he had looked so serious, so strangely urgent.
They walked in silence for a moment until Phoenix leaned closer, lowering her voice as if savoring her own words. “And then there’s the prophecy. You’ve heard of it, right? The Feared One. Supposedly, there will be a dragon, who will be stronger than the rest, and is destined to bring ruin if not stopped.”
Everin’s brow furrowed. “The Feared One? What are you talking about?”
Phoenix’s eyes glinted, pleased to be the one to tell her. “An old legend. A vessel for the demon Lord Tynan, the so-called demon of chaos and darkness. The prophecy says when the Feared One rises, the world burns.” She gave a short laugh and waved her hand dismissively. “But come on, demons? In today’s world? That’s more fairy tale than fact. People whisper about it like it could happen, but it’s the kind of story you tell to scare hatchlings into behaving.”
Tariel didn’t laugh. His tone was steady, matter-of-fact. “Maybe. But the Council doesn’t dismiss it as a fairy tale. Why else do you think they care so much about anomalies? They might not say it aloud, but they believe in the prophecy. At least enough to keep watch.”
A chill passed through Everin. “So you think that’s why they’re watching us? Because of this Feared One?”
“Maybe,” Phoenix said with a shrug, though her bravado flickered.
Tariel’s tone was firm, not unkind. “The Council keeps records of every dragon’s aura. Think of it like a map. They know where dragons are, how many there are, and where the bloodlines run strongest. It helps them maintain balance. To make sure we don’t cross the line with humans. To make sure no one dragon becomes too dangerous.”
Everin shivered at the thought. The idea of being watched wasn’t pleasant.
As they reached the steps of the lecture hall, she looked down at her hands, feeling the weight of it all. Special. Different. Watched. None of it felt comforting. More like a warning she couldn’t yet decipher.
“What if we’re not just here to learn?” she whispered, mostly to herself. “What if we’re here because we’re dangerous?”
Neither Phoenix nor Tariel answered. They didn’t have to. The silence between them said enough.
∞∞∞
Everin, Tariel, and Phoenix were seated in a small, sleek classroom, its walls lined with smartboards and polished desks.
The air was filled with an expectant energy as they waited for their Language of Dracos lesson to begin. Tariel had his usual relaxed posture, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual confidence, while Phoenix sat upright, her eyes eager for what was to come. Everin fidgeted slightly in her seat, her hands nervously twisting the hem of her sleeve. This was a class she hadn’t expected to be intriguing but was already looking forward to.
Just as the bell rang, the door to the classroom swung open, and in walked Mrs. Inkpen, the associate lecturer for the course. She was a middle-aged woman with sharp, focused eyes and an air of quiet authority. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her attire was impeccable, with a flowing scarf that seemed to move independently of her.
Trailing behind her was none other than Jackson Miller, the basketball hunk from Everin’s school and her sweet crush. He flashed a grin as he entered, giving Tariel a fist pump as they exchanged a brief, familiar greeting. Jackson was tall, with broad shoulders and an athletic build, his presence almost magnetic. He effortlessly made his way to an empty seat next to Tariel, who waved him over.
“Yo, man,” Tariel said, grinning as Jackson sat down next to him.
“Hey, Tariel. How’s it going?” Jackson gave a quick wave to Everin and Phoenix, his smile infectious as usual.
Everin’s heart skipped a beat, her cheeks flushing. She gave him a shy, almost timid wave, her excitement barely contained. Jackson had always seemed out of her reach, more of a figure in the background of her life than someone she could have a real conversation with. But here, in the Academy, things felt a little different.
Mrs. Inkpen cleared her throat, and the students quieted down. She gave them all a pointed look, her eyes briefly lingering on Everin, Phoenix, and Tariel.
“Today’s class will be a bit of an introduction to the Language of Dracos. Before we begin, though,” she glanced at Jackson, “I’d like to address something unique.” She turned to the class with a raised eyebrow. “Jackson here has no record of dragon blood in his family history. Yet, a few days ago, he was able to shapeshift.” She paused for dramatic effect. “This is a rare occurrence but not entirely unheard of in the dragon community. Some dragons awaken their abilities later than others, and sometimes, the awakening happens in unexpected ways.”
Everin’s eyes widened as she turned to Jackson, her mind buzzing with the implications of what Mrs. Inkpen had just revealed. Jackson, who had never shown any signs of being a dragon, had suddenly shapeshifted. She was barely holding back a million questions that she wanted to ask him, but before she could, Mrs. Inkpen continued.
“Jackson, would you like to explain what happened?” she asked, her voice softening.
Jackson shrugged nonchalantly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I was just hanging out one day, feeling kind of stressed. All of a sudden, I felt this heat building up in me. Then, boom, dragon form. I couldn’t exactly control it, but it happened. It was like... something inside me finally woke up.”
“That’s incredible,” Phoenix murmured, her eyes wide. “I’ve always known I had it in me, but I can’t imagine just getting it like that.”
Jackson laughed, clearly still processing the whole experience. “Yeah, trust me, it was a bit of a shock to me too. And then came a man dressed in a suit who claimed to be from the Council of Dragons of the West. He said there are many students like me out here, and to my surprise, I found my best mate, Tariel, here as well.”
Mrs. Inkpen nodded thoughtfully. “What happened to Jackson is exactly why we have this class: to help you control your dragon abilities and understand the language of your bloodline. Now, on to today’s lesson.”
She moved to the front of the room and tapped the smartboard, which flickered to life. The screen displayed the intricate symbols of Dracos, the ancient, flowing language of dragons. Each character seemed to pulse with an ancient energy, and Everin felt an odd connection to the letters, as though they resonated with something deep inside her.
“Now,” Mrs. Inkpen began, her voice calm but filled with authority. “In our studies, we focus on the basics of Dracos, the written form, its structure, and the core principles behind it. For most of you, since you all carry dragon blood, this will come naturally. With only a little practice, you'll be able to speak and write in Dracos. But first, let’s start with the letters.” She motioned to the smartboard, and the first symbol appeared.
The letters on the screen looked like a blend of sharp, jagged edges and smooth curves, ancient but elegant in their design. Everin leaned forward, fascinated. She had never seen anything like it before. The beauty of the language was almost hypnotic.
Mrs. Inkpen whispered a command, and four imposing black boxes rose from her desk, gliding through the air on unseen wings. One settled before each student. Everin’s eyes widened at the mystical dark box, its surface etched with an enchanting dragon’s claw print.
