My body hurt. And I don't mean that little bit of soreness you get from pushing yourself too hard while flying and then it takes a few days to go away. No, this soreness was from getting pushed to the ground more times than I could count by a dragon that was over a hundred years old and felt like he was ten times heavier than me.

Not great. Not great at all.

And even when I had called it quits and lay on the ground unmoving, he still kept pestering me.

“Owww,” I groaned as I got another kick to my snout.

“Get up,” Cryhn demanded. “You're not done until I say you are. Get up.”

At this point, I didn't even care that Fyrlia was watching me get my ass kicked. It had been embarrassing at the start when I could still think, but now my brain had been rattled around so much that I could hardly notice she still existed, let alone have the mental capacity to feel embarrassed.

Or to get up.

“Get up,” Cryhn growled, this time stomping on my face dangerously close to my remaining eye.

After two more painful kicks, I had finally had enough. I surged upward with the last of my strength, lunging straight for him as I prepared to shove him to the ground and see how much he liked it. Unfortunately, I never got the chance because the same instant I rose from the ground was the same instant I got plowed over again.

And of course, “get up” was the first thing he said the moment I slammed back into the dirt.

“How,” I roared, “am I supposed to do that when you just instantly shove me back down!”

“Figure it out,” he said unsympathetically, then added, with a scratch along my snout to join it, “Get up.”

When it finally seemed to become abundantly clear to him that I had no idea what to do, he sighed and plopped to the ground.

“You’re hiding from it,” he said cryptically.

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“From what?”

My question went ignored. “Don’t hide from it, embrace it. It’s the only way you will ever even have a slight chance at beating a stronger opponent.”

“What are you talking about?” I snarled, my annoyance reaching levels it never had before.

His gaze bore into me, and I felt like he could see straight into me, into my soul, even though I knew he couldn’t.

“There it is. Feel it, embrace it, use it. You know it’s there, you’re just shying away from it. Think of how you feel during your — ah, what do they call it now? Blood…blood fever? No, that’s not it.”

“Blood lust?” I questioned

“Yes, that’s it. Not that it has anything to do with blood, I much prefer the old name.”

My annoyance faded, replaced by confusion. “What? It has everything to do with blood, it happens because there’s blood.”

Cryhn shook his head in disbelief. “It always amazes me just how easily such absurd lies can be spread. No matter, I’ll tell you what it is once we’re finished here.”

He rose to his feet, shoving into me with his talons once more. “Get up.”

My annoyance returned in full force and I growled lowly at him. With no other choice, I rose slowly to my feet. This time he let me, and I launched an attack once again, this time feinting a straight-on attack. As I drew close and he lowered his head, likely preparing to headbutt me to the ground — something that I had already experienced once and was highly uncomfortable for both of us —, I flapped my protesting wings once, twice, and soared over his head. A second later I dropped like a stone onto his body, digging my claws into his leathered hide and using my wings and tail to balance.

That was where my plan failed me though. Because, unlike a normal dragon that would crumple under my weight, he was a behemoth, and while he staggered slightly, he still stood tall. Also unlike a normal dragon, he began shaking and moving to dislodge me, even bringing his neck around to snap at me once. I clung on for dear life, my wings and tail constantly moving to help me maintain my balance.

After what felt like an eternity but could only have been a few seconds, I got thrown to the ground and the air knocked out of me. Before I could even blink Cryhn was upon me, growling in my face.

Once I wasn’t gasping for breath anymore, I was able to concentrate on what he was saying, and it sent my blood boiling.

“Weak! Maybe everybody was right to try to kill you, you’re too weak to contribute to anything, too weak to help anyone, and likely too weak to even find your sister! You’re useless!” He roared in my face, spittle leaving his jaws as he spat out the words, coating my face in wet, sticky spit.

I didn’t even have time to get truly angry. One moment I was pinned beneath him, and the next I was on top, my chest heaving as a ferocious snarl came from deep within me, and the taste of blood in my mouth. Raising my head, I spotted Fyrlia staring at me from a distance away, her body frozen and her face a mask of fear. The dirt, ferns, and grass around me were matted with blood, each thing's color being replaced with red.

I looked back down at Cryhn, and slowly stepped off him, my snarl quieting as my feeling of rage was replaced by guilt. His body was bloodied and torn, and another slash had been added to the pre-existing scars on his snout. His chest still rose softly, so he was alive, but his body was limp and his eyes remained shut even after I had gotten off him.

Just as I thought he had passed out, his eyes snapped open, and, crazily enough, a grin spread across his face.

“Well done. You’re done with training for today.”

He slowly rose to his feet, clearly in pain, more blood gradually leaking from his wounds. While his eyes shone and he seemed satisfied, I couldn’t quench the torrent of guilt raging within me.

What have I done?