Blood was filling Denic's lungs. His broken body was slumped against the tree he had been thrown at. The impact had shattered his spine and his ribcage. He could not feel anything below his waist, everything else was pain. Each ragged breath was a theft. Breathing was for the living and he was already dead. He was just waiting for his body to realise.

Across the road, his cart burned. A bright light in the cloudy moonless night. The fire had spread to the fences and thicket by the roadside and had grown into a raging inferno. Dense smoke rose into the sky. He had built the cart himself. He had carved the wood and hammered it together. It had been long hard work. He hadn't been able to afford an enchanted self-moving cart so he had built a horse-drawn one. He watched as it burned to ash. He'd lost his wand somewhere. If he still had it maybe he could try a few desperate last spells. But it was probably in the fire somewhere.

He had no fight left in him, no strength to keep forcing air into his punctured lungs. He could feel his consciousness begin to fade away.

Through the smoke, a large silver shape descended. It landed softly without making a noise. It was forty feet long. Its long slender, aerodynamic form did little to disguise the power its body held. It was a silver scaled dragon with curled horns on its head. It had landed in the midst of the raging inferno and had not acknowledged the fire in any way. From within the flames, it stared right at Denic.

Being awed or frightened took effort and he had none left to spare. He closed his eyes and awaited his fate. Pain shot through him suddenly. It felt someone was running his organs over a cheese grater. He violently coughed up the blood in his lungs and took a gulp of air. He could feel his bones being moved forcefully back into place. He was being healed. But this was not the slow, cautious and gentle healing he had received the last time he had broken bones. It was rough, fast and inconsiderate. He screamed as his spine snapped back into place. All at once he could feel his ruined legs and shattered hip. Those broken bones began shifting too as he was put back together.

He opened his eyes a looked back at the dragon that was still staring intently at him. He was about to ask it why but he hesitated and it spoke first. It did not open its mouth to speak. Instead, a series of tiny shockwaves passed through the smoke around its head. It was magically vibrating the air. It was making the noise directly through magic.

"I have a few questions for you. It was a dragon that attacked you correct?" The voice it created with its magic was soft and gentle. It sounded like the voice of a kind woman. But the sound was entirely created by the dragon, every aspect was deliberate. Every intonation was a choice. Even so, there was a hurriedness to it. It wanted to make it clear that it had places to be.

Denic locked eyes with the dragon that was still in the process of healing him. They were ancient creatures of fire and magic, the stories said. Some described them as power incarnate. But Denic had little left to lose. He raised his arm, still weak and feeble from his wounds, and pointed to the overturned cart.

"My son was with me. Save my son first," he replied defiantly, never breaking eye contact with the dragon.

The dragon's eyes narrowed and flicked over to the burning cart. In the blink of an eye, the fire was out. Not a smouldering ember or spark remained. It simply decided the fire should be out and then it was immediately extinguished utterly. In the fire's absence pitch darkness claimed everything and the night seemed so much colder without the fire's heat. Yet the dragon's eyes glowed a golden orange and light leaked through the gaps between its dagger-like teeth.

"You ask the impossible. I cannot resurrect the dead. I am not the Jeklein Empress. I cannot conquer death," Its words were slower this time, the hurry had vanished.

In truth, he'd known before he'd asked. It had been too long and the attack too violent. His son was hardy for his age but there were limits. A part of him didn't want to admit it even though he knew. It felt like admitting it would make it true. He had kept pretending his son wasn't in the cart as it burnt because accepting the alternative wasn't something he had been ready for. Because knowing he was watching his child burn when he could nothing to stop it was too much. Denying it let him keep living in a world where his son wasn't dead for just a little longer. But what the dragon had said gave him something to latch onto. The faintest spark of hope.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Are you saying the Empress could bring people back to life?"

"If there was anyone who-" the dragon's voice faded into a strange low pitch noise as it lost control of its spell for a moment. It leaned closer, its mouth and eyes the only things visible in the darkness. As it lowered its head nearer to Denic the shadows from its mouth cast long jagged shadows across the ground like some kind of caged lantern. "What do you mean 'could'?"

"Don't you know? She's dead, killed by the Obsidian Witch,"

The dragon stared at him, its emotions unreadable.

"I do not believe that to be possible but that is something I will need to look into later. For now, my current task is a little more pressing. What attacked you? Where did he go?"

"It hit us out of nowhere. It dropped down from above. I was able to get a spell off. My go-to defensive spell is a fire spell. I didn't have much time to think. I didn't realise I was fighting a dragon. In retaliation for my useless spell, it scooped me up and hurled me at this tree," he tapped the wood he was leaning against. "It was about a third your size, red coloured scales and fast as fuck. I don't recall it breathing any fire. I would have expected a dragon to breathe fire,"

The attack had been a confusing mess. He still wasn't sure what had exactly happened. Slowly he put the events together and he did not like the conclusions he was reaching.

"It didn't breathe fire. The fire was 'cause of me,"

Once again the dragon cast magic without a focus. In different circumstances, Denic would have marvelled at the dragon's ability to wield its spell thread. It could form its doubtlessly wide and powerful thread into complicated spell patterns, quickly and often in parallel to other spells, without the aid of a focus. Any other time he would have been intimidated by the level of control it displayed over its magic.

Light filled the area chasing away the darkness as small orbs of white appeared around the dragon. For the first time, Denic could see it in its entirety. A lot of the metallic silver scales along its left flank had been melted sometime in the past. The metal-like flesh had hardened into solid clumps. Parts of those clumps had fallen away revealing spots where newer pinkish-red scales were visible. The darkest few of those pink scales had acquired a touch of silver. Gently it examined the wreckage. It probed the ashes with a long claw.

"If it helps your son appears to have died from a broken neck. It was likely pretty quick, painless and over before the fire really got going," It turned its attention back to Denic "This is in many ways my fault. Your son lies dead and it is my son that is responsible. He is still a child, he knows not what he does. He sees the world as a simple one where the strong can simply take what they want. If he wants meat he takes it. First, he was stealing cows from farmers' herds, then later he smashed up a barn to get at the livestock inside. Just because he was hungry. No thought giving to the consequences of his actions. He is growing bolder and I fear his actions will lead to his death,"

The last vestiges of pain faded as the dragon finished healing him. He still felt weak and stiff. He stretched his legs and leaning against the tree pulled himself unsteadily to his feet.

"What are you going to do when you find him?"

"I am his mother. I will protect him. Even from his own mistakes. I have been cleaning up after him. Usually, a bit of coin is enough to make amends for stolen cattle. But this time he has done something that gold cannot serve as adequate recompense for. Giving you a portion of my hoard will not fix this. I do not know what I can offer you instead,"

"You said the Empress could bring him back,"

"No, I said the only one who had a hope of bringing him back would be the Empress. Chasing that is a fool's errand. Even if you're wrong about her being dead I doubt she'll be cooperative. She has always kept tight control of her secrets. She shared nothing with anyone, dragon or not. Not even me,"

Denic his legs were still weak and threatened to crumble from beneath him. Yet still, he stood and glared into the eyes of an elder dragon.

"You want me to let this go right? Then that's my price. I want my son back,"

The dragon studied him searching for the slightest sign of uncertainty but it found none.

"If my son was killed I would never be able to forgive. I suppose it's only fair that when I ask something I'd find impossible that I am asked for something impossible in return. Very well. I cannot promise you I will bring back your son. Instead, I will promise you I will do everything in my power to make this right. I will fix this. What is your name?"

"Denic of Wortshed,"

"I am Elswier Firstborn of the Silver Dragons. Once I have hunted down my wayward son we will go searching for secrets. We will go see this Obsidian Witch of yours and find out what they know,"