Marna watched from atop a snow-capped peak, freezing snow against her claws, a thousand snowflakes falling like lightning across her eyes. Vrarog had departed a few hours ago, flying into the storm, and Marna wished she could join him.

It was a taboo among dragons to speak about it, but she spent her lonely afternoons scanning through her ancestral memories. She felt the emotions of her ancestors, the thrill of battle, the team-work, the camaraderie and the bonds. Adventures, facing the black sorcerers of Malachia before they summoned magic, rescuing children in the mines of Hangria, racing against time, escaping from magic fire, resting next to a human camp under a blanket of stars. The jungles of the south. She dreamed of flying, bonding a true human, a sincere one like Ariana Raxalani of ancient legends.

And aside from that, she dreamed of Vrarog. She’d always been jealous of her sister Varna. She’d thought Varna would live forever.

She pressed her chest against the snow and shot upward, spreading her golden wings and letting herself dive into the gorges of the mountain. She shut her eyes, pressing her wings against her body and diving down like an arrow in flight, then, soon before reaching the ground, she would spread her wings and catch the wind beneath it, tilting them and taking flight again.

She wondered what Vrarog’s human looked like. He’d never stopped and described him. Through the memories, Marna could see some of the faces of the fallen warriors. They were all proud and strong despite being only human. And she dreamed herself a warrior, maybe a male fighter who’d swing a sword against injustice. Dragons always felt an affinity to humans, especially the weak ones.

She glided down from the cliffs, feeling the air shift as she descended, becoming warmer and more humid. She flew over the vast steppes. Now, she had to do what she must; food for her kin.

She descended toward the highland, flying over an ocean of grass, she could see human settlements scattered around them, with their colorful yurts and tents, villages close to the cities. She flew faster, faster than a falcon in flight, like the friendly races her ancestors used to engage in. She whirled, soaring, tumbling and rising again.

She picked up a weak scent, musky, and very subtle. Beneath her, she glimpsed family of wild yaks pasturing in the fields. She smiled, barrel rolling mid air and falling like an arrow, claws spread open. Fast as lightning, she slid her powerful claw in the fattest animal’s neck. She slid rapidly as the other yaks started running the opposite way. She stretched powerful arms and slid her bloody claws in another body.

She turned to the side, just as the others escaped. The dragon let go, feeling her hunger grow, she stretched her fangs and bit into the yak’s neck. Blood poured into the yak’s fur, and into her tongue. She shut her eyes and bit further, feeding herself.

There was a strange smell, metallic and dull. Her senses tingled, making her turn around. There was something there, it kind of smelled like a mine, like iron ore from the mountain.

When she looked around… She thought she was seeing things that weren’t there. She could tell that there was a figure in the darkness, something inhuman, unrecognizable. But somewhere in her memories, a strange, similar figure lurked, and each memory it touched brought her pain and fear.

She turned around fully and sunk her claws in the ground, her entrails rumbled, her lungs tensed and she felt fire prepare inside her. Something was wrong.

She thought of what had killed Varna and taken Vrarog captive.

Marna braced herself, tensing her muscles, feeling warmth expand inside her, swearing that she wouldn’t be taken.

Something moved in the field, a shadow, a nightmare taking flesh. She opened her mouth and a torrent of flame escaped form her mouth, setting an entire section of the field ablaze. She could still see the shape, that strange, metallic shape around her. What was it?

It changed color and shaped, taking the color of molten metal, a burning orange, it spread around her, like quicksilver, guided by a force of will, by its own life.

She turned around, spitting fire at the strange substance, to burn it away, to melt it, but it crawled on the ground.

She turned around and flapped her wings to catch flight, when suddenly, she felt a burning on her flesh, across her wings. She screamed, a pain she had never felt in her life, like living magma on her flesh. Dragon skin was fireproof, but so long as the scales kept their hydration. She had never felt burning in her skin. But whatever was holding her pinned her body, her arms and wings, holding it so that she couldn’t move.

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A section of the substance curled around her mouth,. It was like living molten metal, coming alive and pinning her. She tried to scream, to open her mouth, burn away her pain, burn her enemy, but that thing held her down. She found herself restrained, immovable, and desperation started to push into her mind. Was she going to die? Dragons should not die. Dragons were precious, there were too few of them. What about her dreams of finding a rider, of joining Vrarog in his adventures, of creating new life.

Being restrained was the most horrible feeling in the world. She tried to turn, to summon every muscle of her body to tear open the binds, but they seemed to be solidifying mid-air. They were really living metal, iron or steel, blinding into her body. She tried to call for someone, but no one could hear.

Then, the strange entity started dragging her. Marna tensed up, trying, once again to break free, but her body was being pulled across the field, her claws scratched the ground, digging into it, her tail writhed like an angry serpent.

It took hours for the entity to drag her across the steppe, to pull her through the mud and the mountains. Late at night, a group of humans marched toward the steppe, ready to take her. They caged and chained her again.

That night, she realized, for the first time in her life, that dragons could cry too.

***

“Victory!” Haeed said, leaning back on his chair, a cup of delicious strong coffee in his hand. He deserved it.

“Not bad,” hissed Al Kabkab from his staff.

“And that is only the first step!” Haeed declared. “Did you see? A stroke of genius from myself, as usual.”

“I am impressed. I don’t think anyone had thought of using iron ore for the Incarnation.”

“It wasn’t hard at all. People usually think of mud, of pebbles, but iron, darling, iron and fire, a perfect combination. The dragon’s flame turned out to be her own demise.”

“Very good, but still, this doesn’t translate into what I wanted.”

“Don’t worry. Having the dragon will be the first step. But now I’m thinking big. How about having all the dragons under our control?”

“You have only one of those things.”

“And I have it right here,” Haeed said, gently placing a hand on the iron box he had brought from Kash.

Haeed laughed heartily. “Alright,” he leaned in on his desk, sliding his feather pen into a vial of red ink and writing the sultan. He had the dragon, it would arrive within a few days, and then.

Al Kabkab made a hissing noise.

“What is it?” Haeed asked.

“Let me remind you, someone is tracking us. He’s blocking our view from the thief.”

“But that’s not problem, Al Kabkab.”

“Don’t underestimate them.”

“You don’t be foolish. Aren’t you supposed to be one of the princes of hell?”

“Believe me. Besides, how many times have you faced a theurgist?”

“I don’t care about them. They’re weaklings, scum. Cowards. They have too many rules. They live for the rules. Rules define them. I’m superior by definition as I am not restrained by them.”

“Now that is your biggest problem, listen pride is a virtue, but you’re taking it too far. There’s a problem when you can’t see what’s wrong in other people.”

“And now you’re lecturing me?”

“Then, just do what you promised me.”

“I’ve planned this day to the t! I am studying, al Kabkab. I have to find out new ways to use the incarnation, and other spells.”

“Useless! But think of this, imagine simultaneous incarnations. All under your control. All spilling blood and serving me, while you terrorize your enemies.”

“By more incarnations do you mean…”

Black smoke coalesced around the staff, expanding, then taking shape as a man with a muscular torso, the rest of his body blending into the smoke. Al Kabkab had something important to say.

“What I’ve been talking about all along,” the jinn declared. “You need apprentices. People who want to serve evil and gain power. Just picture them following and serving you. Imagine that. You’d work three times faster. You could imprison those dragons for decades while you look for more magic jewels. You could learn more. You love learning, don’t you? You have thousands of magic books in your collection, and a thousand years hasn’t been enough to read them all. You even have some tomes from Malachia, the ancient land of black magic, and you’ve barely even given them time. Imagine all the skills you haven’t been able to acquire. There’s an entire ocean of black magic waiting to be explored. You can create a school of black magic, and I will ensure that all those involved follow you as their leader. They will do your bidding! Don’t be afraid to share that power.”

Haeed played with the end of his beard.

“You already have hundreds of fools under your command,” Al Kabkab said. “You just need more like minded, outstanding individuals. They will serve you.”

“Who? Who? You finally got someone wicked enough?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”