A realm of everlasting winters.

A snowy white canvas, ready to be painted by the will of its denizens. At present, only three creatures can be seen in this vast expanse of pine forests and frozen valleys. 

Two of them were native to this world. Immense creatures of pure muscle, scale, claw, and teeth. Though no culture native to this realm had ever named them, to the many realms across the roads they were known as Dragons. Seven-limbed terrors that stood as the apex predator of these lands. One, the oldest of the pair, was a turquoise flurry that spun with a grace only seen in the most talented of dancers, despite her monstrous size. Her golden horns contrasted her scales and curved around like those of a ram. Frills of the same royal coloration ran along her back and down to her tail, which split into two near its end. Her slitted pupils mirrored her surroundings, glowing faintly from their sockets. 

The other, the younger, was her mate. He sported black scales which ran in contrast to the realm's deafening colors. Such coloration wasn’t normal for a dragon, for they betrayed their bodies during hunts and meant a weakness to flame, the species’ strongest tool. He didn’t sport any horns, having lost them many moons ago. A scar ran through his left eye, yet he still held on to his vision. As with her mate, his eyes glowed and mirrored with the realm’s white expanse. A proof of their bond.

The outlier was not of the same species as the two. It was small, yet bigger than the realm’s more populous denizens. It wore fur that wasn’t its own, and its skin was hidden behind layers of what could only be described as messed-up leather. Straps covered the outlier’s outfit, making sure that the haphazardly-made armor kept its shape. The eldest had heard of it. A creature fueled by spite and anger, single-handedly devoted to the destruction of their kind. It had already ravaged the eastern flights by the time the northern ones heard of him, and by now the pair had to wonder if maybe they were the last left. The last vestiges of a species filled with selfishness and greed. She entertained the thought that maybe the creature in front of them represented their sins made flesh, a phantom born of hate and knowing only that.

She spun and danced as she had always done, an offensive flurry that had kept her alive for all these centuries. Her mate had already suffered crippling damage to his stomach and hind legs, rendering him immobile and defenseless. She had also been wounded from the prolonged bout, having slashes and molten burns all across her figure. If things kept the way they were any longer she wouldn’t be able to keep her mate, or even herself, away from death’s cold embrace. 

The creature kept up its attack, slashing wildly with its little tools and armaments. Small as they were, a single blow from one of its weapons was enough to seriously injure her. So she jumped, docked, and dodged every strike. With a particularly strong leap, she gathered some distance from her attacker. Speed was her pride, as she’d always been considered the fastest and most nimble among her clutch. She landed with the grace of a feline and turned to look at the bipedal creature. There was something off about them, she’d begun to notice, as its hands seemingly lit up whenever it moved to attack. Perhaps there was something else she was failing to see. She began formulating ideas and plans, getting lost in her thoughts, and failed to notice their movements. Her mate roared a warning as the creature rapidly approached the place she had landed, swiping at her with renewed vigor, its palm ablaze in an orange hew. 

She twirled out of the way as the outlier swiped its blade, spinning with a cartwheel kick—a feat near impossible to her kind, just in time and quickly landing back on all four before launching in a sprint back towards him. She hoped to catch him off guard as its body recovered and reeled from the unsuccessful blow. Closing the distance with lightning speed, she halted at the last moment, ducking the front of her massive frame towards the snow-covered ground, and, using the force generated by pulling her massive frame upwards, she uppercut the small creature’s form into the air using her claws. 

She wouldn’t grant it any reprieve. Before gravity set in, she spun her body once more and slammed the creature’s falling frame with her tail, sending it flying toward one of the still-standing pine trees. A crack was heard and a snow cloud exploded from the impact, yet the tree remained upright. Panting, she scanned the cloud, and sensing no immediate movement she slowly backed away and ran toward her mate. 

The dragon, Gaol, cursed his inability to move as she arrived, nosing at his wounds with worry. She asked if he could run, or fly. “Neither”, he said. Wounds extending from his tail up to his wings, and he was far too heavy to be carried by her nimble frame. 

“...Leave me.”

“Quiet. I would never.”

“Nora, please! I’m only a burden to you now, if you leave now, I can at least try to buy you some time.”

“...”

“Head west, see if any of the flights still stand...”

“...I won’t abandon you Gaol.”

“If you don’t then neither of us will survive!” With renewed vigor the dragon attempted to stand, only to fall back down with a resounding thud, scattering snow and blood. “Please…I can’t just lay here and watch you die.”

“And I also cannot just leave you here to be gutted!” Nora roared at him. “Do you think I have it in me to just abandon the one I cherish most to his death?!” 

Orange lights began flickering in the distance.

“Nora…you know that's not what I…”

“I know love, so just bear with me and we’ll get through this together.” She placed her head to his for a moment, cherishing his presence, for it might be the last time she did.

The snow cloud formed from the impact had all but dissipated by now, replaced with flashes of orange and red. Nora took notice and turned her attention toward the flashing crater where the creature was now crawling out from. The attack had considerably damaged him, as its body was bent in strange ways. Though the outlier’s spine and right arm were broken, they still managed to stand up, crunching their way through the pain. With a snap, it returned his neck and arm into place—flashes of that repeating orange glow firing from every joint. 

Nora winced at each sound yet remained composed. If it was able to recover from such injuries, no physical attack would be able to put him down. Fire might, but fear held her back from using it in battle. Now, however, there was no other choice. 

She placed herself between Gaol and their attacker, ready to fight until the last of her blood had been drained from her. She stared at it, so small yet fueled with enough rage to overpower a star. Nora knew nothing of its goal. The pair were attacked while out hunting. No warning or motive had been given, only rage-filled screams of hatred and a vengeance unknown to her and her mate. But it mattered not now. If it intended to put an end to their lives, she would tear its skin, crush its blighted heart, and fight with every last ounce of her being just for that small chance of survival. 

Nora and the creature locked eyes, its verdant gaze fueled with that now-familiar rage. As on cue, it broke into a feral sprint, aiming for her with all its might. She held her ground and felt the flammable bile within her gather. Only when it was a few paces away from her did she spit the fuel gathered in her maw, and with a click of her fangs she ignited it into spitfire. The fire spread like a cone, quickly melting the snow in the surrounding area and burning every pine tree in its wake. The outlier, having fought a myriad of dragons, was ready for such a play, and jumped out of the way just in time. However, his boot was caught inside the blast, along with his leg, and he let out a scream as the fire melted skin and bone.  

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Nora failed to notice his escape, instead focusing on finishing the task as quickly as she could when she heard it scream. She stopped only to survey the damage but didn’t forgo her ability to produce more fire just in case. No life remained in the wake of her attack. Fire was the pride of every dragon and their most destructive weapon. Having heard the dying wails of her attacker, she sighed. A quick yet painful end, she thought…

An orange blast ignited from the corner of her slitted eye, and she quickly spun to counter an attack, tensing her body in preparation and spitfire building in her throat. But as Nora turned, she caught no glimpse of a striking hand. Instead, it had survived her fire and was now sprinting with full might towards Gaol. The dragon, having also been caught off guard, tensed his body and stood to face his attacker, pain and wounds be damned. He wasn’t going to allow himself to die—to become guilt in the mind of his beloved. He readied himself and mustered up all the strength he had left into a single stab, roaring as he sought to impale the creature in his claws. 

He missed.

The outlier dodged his attack with newfound swiftness, and Gaol landed back on the snow, exhausted and reeling. He could only watch helplessly as the outlier, bathed in orange, formed a stake of what appeared to be molten rock from his palms. The weapon was lighter than it appeared, and with tremendous force, the creature pierced Goal’s scales, impaling his organs on its way and forcing the dragon to vomit out blood. 

His pain was immeasurable, but Gaol thought only of his beloved, now rushing to his aid. Nora roared in horror as her love was skewered, and prayed her speed would once again prove to be the winning trait. But it would be for naught. Nora could only watch as the creature stepped back from the stake, only to slam against it with renewed force. The stake was driven further into Gaol, fatally piercing his heart, and ending the life of her mate. 

Goal’s eyes widened as he felt the blow, and could only muster the strength to raise an arm, reaching for his love. He muttered an unheard apology, and his lifeless arm fell to the ground before it could reach her. 

Nora felt more than just her balance shake at that moment, yet persisted in her charge. If she tripped she would die. If she stopped to grief for her beloved she would die. If she were to turn and flee, a fate worse than death awaited her. So she focused her pain into fury, and with every step taken she shook the earth around the frozen valley. The outlier was met with a fury that aimed to be its rival, but nothing in this world would force its hand to stop.

The outlier met Nora’s charge head-on, raging and screaming in concert with the dragon’s mighty roar. Orange light ignited on its palms once more, and from that light pulled a boulder of a blade. Molten rock mirroring dragon scales was its texture, and the size nearly doubled the length of its user. With strength unseen and a scream to drown the pain, the outlier swung the blade just as the dragon collided with him. 

Bones broke inside its body, and the outlier was sent flying from the blow, landing somewhere unseen. Its attack, however, managed to connect at the last second. The blade made up for its lack of edge with pure mass, breaking open the dragon’s snout and painting the snow with crimson splotches. 

Adrenaline, or at least something adjacent to it, kept Nora from death for but a moment. Her vision became cloudy, and she could feel less and less of her body as the seconds grew by. Even in the end, she couldn’t help but allow her thoughts to wander. Had she done it? Had she, by some miracle, managed to land the lucky strike and kill her attacker? She knew it wasn’t likely. It was naive of her to even think of putting down the beast that had killed the flights; and yet, He always liked that part of her. She would always believe his tales, fiction or not, for he told them with such love for the romance of it all.

With a bloodied face, she turned one last time to her mate. Her love. If she is to die, she will do so right next to the one whom she chose to spend her life with.  

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

By the time he awoke, the sun had already set. He was lying amongst the pine trees’ needles and dry crimson snow, the battle now a distant memory to the forest. The skyline above him was open, not a cloud marred the vista that was the starry sky. Stars and constellations dotted his view, distant realms teeming with life and opportunity. It was as if the world itself was rewarding him for his struggle, granting him a reprieve for his duty.

He couldn’t stand it.

The starry sky flickered as his disgust rose. Clouds began obfuscating the night, swallowing the beauty of the night whole and the roads plastered upon it. The surroundings grew formless, seemingly resonating with his mind. The ground around him ceased, and he felt his form fall into a void, devoid of life.

He contemplated everything that had happened as his form fell into the abyss. It had been three years since his death. Three years since that cold, empty hand touched his soul and found only hatred. It told him his heart’s desire could only be fulfilled by him, and that only by his hand could he avenge those lost. And yet his heart ached for more than simple retribution. His love was replaced by hate, ugly and uncontrolled. A feeling so overwhelming it overtook what little remained of himself. A decay so fettered that it burned his soul and denied it an afterlife. Only a hateful, soulless god in turn would be his salvation, his chance to fill the hole left in him by the white-gold fiend.

So, he filled it with the blood and bones of its kind in turn: the beasts that would only take and conquer and kill for nothing more than mere instinctual satisfaction. He would become a storm that would spare none, for no one he knew was granted the same. And so did the hateful god listen to his rageful pleas, and took pity on him. It said nothing as an outstretched hand, alien and familiar at once, reached for him in the void called death.

With an outstretched hand, he reached back.

Dioltas Rumeras bolted awake. Moonlight lit the small grove he found himself in, yet clouds blocked the sight of any stars in the firmament. He tried standing up but found his bones cracked and aching, still reeling from the battle. The pair had proven to be far more difficult than he had originally imagined. They worked together to outmaneuver him and landed more killing blows than he cared to admit. But even if they were to stall him, hurt him so badly he’d have to take time away from the battle to heal, he would return for them in time.

He groaned as he attempted to roll, ribs stabbing his lungs and a broken left arm begging for mercy. What good was immortality when he could feel every blow, and bleed from any stab? 

A fair trade for the power to fell beasts, he argued. Every miracle requires a sacrifice. Maybe he’d one day grow accustomed to the pain, but that was a far-off dream. He gritted his teeth and pulled himself off the ground, causing his wounds to open up and spilling blood on the snow. He held back the urge to scream with a grunt, and he stood back up to his full height using an old and sturdy pine tree as support. Dioltas allowed himself a moment to heal and catch his breath, watching his surroundings for any creatures that might’ve smelled his blood and thought of him easy prey. Once his wounds had healed enough to the point of painless locomotion, he began backtracking through the woods. Dioltas took note of the lack of sound, how no creature dared speak or move, more than likely in fear of his power. He allowed his hand to rest on the half-broken trunk of a particular pine tree. Enough of it remained, so he moved on with a sigh. 

After several moments traversing the woods, his eyes caught the light amongst the leaves, indicating a break in the canopy. Moonlight gleamed down upon the clearing where he and the creatures had last clashed when Dioltas arrived. Toppled and burnt trees dotted the surroundings, and falling snow was slowly filling in the spots where the grass had been burned. 

In its center laid the remains of the two beasts, locked in a lifeless embrace. 

Hours had certainly passed since their battle, so it intrigued him that no carrion animal had attempted to feast on their remains. It almost seemed as though nature itself considered this final resting place to be sacred. Dioltas moved towards the middle of the clearing, all while making sure nothing would jump at him from the shadows of the night. 

He slowed his pace once he got close enough to reach them, and an all too familiar orange light began glowing in his hand. It was the primal power of the earth, granted to him at the time of his rebirth. A bright magma ignited in his hands, an obsidian black spear growing from Dioltas' palm. He grasped it as the light dimmed and the last of it formed, and reared back in preparation for a thrust.

With a heavy effort, he thrusted the molten spear into the turquoise scales of one of the corpses. The body rocked with the impact, yet showed no signs of life. After confirming the death of the creature Dioltas pulled the spear from its body and moved to do the same to the other, all while the resting place was defiled with their blood. Crimson liquid spilled from the piercing wounds in the bodies of both creatures, evaporating as soon as it hit the ground. Steam rose into the sky as Dioltas faced his work, not with pride, but a restless relief. And yet he was not satisfied. They didn’t suffer, they didn’t despair as their life vanished, and they didn’t watch as the future of their species stopped here, with them! His clenched fist spilled once more with both rage and magma, scorching the earth around him.

Dioltas turned and slammed his burning fist into the dragon's body, scales melting with a mere touch. The muscles around the flesh clenched in fear as the apricot liquid consumed at the mere touch. It was slow and weak, but persistent in destroying the beast’s body. The dragon's body began melting after a few moments, leaving nothing in its wake. Scales, muscle, and even bone were consumed by rage. He kept punching, his heart laid bare through his fury. 

Screams and grunts were heard throughout the night, while the stench of decay and burning leather would permeate the clearing for days to come. By the time the sun began to rise, nothing but a black stain of scorched earth remained in the small gap in the forest. Dioltas stood before it, spear in hand. He had exhausted himself, both physically and emotionally throughout the night when he couldn’t afford it. He had to rest, but his work in this realm wasn’t over; he was sure there were more dragons to slay here.

But fate wouldn’t allow it.

A faint spark flickered next to him. Dioltas paid it no mind at first until it returned. The bluish particles came and went. Slow at first, but quickly gaining in frequency. It took a few seconds for the indistinct sparks to begin amassing in form and size. He began backing away as what appeared to be a rift began tearing into the space around him. It continued growing in size and strength, swallowing the snow around it with a potent pull. That strength kept on growing, and it was then that Dioltas realized his mistake. He hadn’t the strength to fight it. He could only watch as his body began flowing towards the dimensional maw. He fell to the snow, grasping at whatever his hands could find, but nature would not be on his side today. The pull exerted on his body continued growing in strength, and all he could was faintly scream as the rift swallowed him, projecting his body to some unknown realm.