Familiar cold, hard rock greeted Peacock as consciousness returned. Memories flooded back. Cavua and Oncian’s death, Arianrhod’s scream.

Peacock shot up, heart pounding against his chest. The glowing lichen was gone, and the darkness cast everything in a gray hue. Dark vision. Peacock had played a few games with the ability. Right now, though, he wasn’t sure if it was better or worse than not seeing at all.

Smooth, bare rock stretched across a large circular cavern. No plants, no mushrooms, no dirt. Large stalactites hung far overhead like daggers waiting to fall, and what looked like carved stalagmites surrounded Peacock on all sides in a dome shape, fusing shut at the top. A few other domes stood nearby. Wherever he was, he was clearly a prisoner.

A sour taste rose in the back of his throat as his stomach knotted. I have to get out of here before I’m killed, too!

Peacock slammed into the stalagmites, and when that failed, tried to squeeze through the gaps between.

“You’re just going to get stuck.”

Peacock whipped around. Viseral lay in a cage behind him, an almost languid look on his face. “Although that actually sounds fun. So, on second thought, go ahead.”

Relief at seeing a familiar face, and not being alone, dulled Peacock’s surge of anger. “You’re alive! What’s going on? Where are we?”

“Zenith Flight’s den.” He sighed. “Incredible, isn’t it? Oh, wait. You were out cold on the way here, weren’t you? Ha, classic wimp.”

Peacock’s relief died as quick as it came. Viseral was as awful as ever, and he still didn’t know where they were. “Zenith Flight? What’s that?”

Viseral chuckled. “For me? A dream come true. For you? Well, Let’s just say I hope I keep a front-row seat.” He lay his head down and closed his eyes. “Now be quiet. I’m trying to rest.”

Peacock growled, his tail thrashing against the floor. Viseral clearly didn’t care at all that everyone they’d known had just died. Peacock had already known he was an asshole, but this revealed an all new low. Peacock turned his anger to the closest stalagmite and gave it a shove. It didn’t budge. He moved on to the next, testing each one that made up the dome of his cage as his imagination tried to fill in any sort of details on the mysterious Zenith Flight.

It wasn’t much of a stretch to say ‘flight’ probably referred to a large group of dragons. ‘Zenith’ meant peak or top. By the way they’d snuck in and killed Oncian and Cavua without either noticing certainly lent credence to their name. The name didn’t give any leads on their motives, but if the two murderers were any sign, it wasn’t anything nice.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

After what felt like an eternity of pacing, hitting stalagmites, and being ignored by Viseral, Peacock heard the ticking of claws coming down the tunnel. He tensed, eyes locked on the gaping exit, heart threatening to burst through his chest.

A lean silver dragon emerged from the tunnel. A halo of sharp horns encircled a crocodilian face. A necklace hung on its neck, with what looked like white marbles the size of basketballs strung across its length. White-silver threads twisted and shifted inside each marble, casting their glow onto the dragon’s pale hide and the surrounding cave walls.

The dragon stopped in front of Peacock’s cage. It turned pure white eyes on him and frowned. “What are you looking at, new meat?” it hissed.

The dragon hadn’t raised its voice, yet the ice in it made Peacock shiver all the same. He looked away.

“Better. Keep that up, and maybe you’ll hurt less.”

The dragon went silent for a moment. Peacock resisted the urge to look until, seemingly satisfied with whatever it had been doing, it moved around Peacock’s cage and toward Viseral.

Peacock stole a glance at the dragon as it walked by. His breath caught. The spiked horns on its head were a pale echo of the thick swathes of sharp quills running down the dragon’s back, arms, legs, and tail. Each one was as long as Peacock. Even the leathery wings curled against its side had spikes along the edges.

More silence came as the dragon stared at Viseral, making Peacock wonder if Viseral had fallen asleep after all.

The dragon’s tone left no room for disobedience. Peacock turned. The dragon had retreated a few steps and was now standing with both cages in its view. Viseral, despite his unnatural silence, stood tall and stiff, his eyes cast toward the larger dragon’s feet. Peacock mimicked his stance. Viseral hadn’t been yelled at, so there must have been something to the way he was acting.

“I am Nex, and I am your teacher, your feeder, your judge, your jury, and, if need be, your executioner. I can be your guide, help you grow and thrive, or I can be your hell, and show you the true meaning of pain. In short, I am your god. Obey me or face my wrath. Understood?”

Viseral and Peacock nodded.

“Excellent. Now, I see no reason to wait to start your training. After all, no work, no food. A basic rule of Zenith Flight. Remember it.”

Peacock nodded again, wishing he’d had more time with Oncian, Cavua, and Arianrhod. He’d experienced hunger since hatching, and even now his stomach growled. However, he didn’t know if he could starve to death or not, and asking questions out of turn seemed a poor idea here. A wave if sadness washed over him. He missed his warm nest, and gentle voices.

The sound of rock grating against rock made Peacock jump. The stalagmite bars bent and shifted, creating an opening in the cage.

“Come.” Nex walked off without looking back.

Viseral lunged out of his cage, scampering to keep close to Nex. Peacock took a deep breath and followed at a larger distance. All he’d known had been destroyed, and the cold lump in Peacock’s gut told him things were about to get worse.