block of ice perched on his head. Dree scowled and kept moving, leaving it all behind.
Soon she was climbing a steep slope. The grass thinned and was replaced with scraggly clumps of yellowed weeds. She was sweating and happy for itâthe exertion was taking her mind off of the incident at the forge. Finally, Dree pulled herself up over a rocky ledge that protruded from the mountainside. A cave was nestled there, hidden by thick brambles and by the shape of the mountain, which blocked the view from the city. It was probably the closest remaining dragon cave to the cityâthe last place in Dracone that the hunters were looking.
A massive figure moved in the darkness, casting an enormous shadow over Dree.
The sight would have been terrifying to most people, but not Dree. She had been to this cave hundreds of times over the years, and the shadow was a welcome sight.
A lopsided grin split her face as Lourdvang emerged from the cave, filling the entire entrance. His glisteningblack scales rippled and shimmered as he walked, his entire body lined with powerful muscles. Lourdvangâs wings were furled closely to his back, but Dree knew that they extended some twenty feet on either side of him, like the wings of an enormous bat. He was every part a dragon: frightening and deadly. But Lourdvangâs face spoke to a different pastâone that humans seemed so keen to forget.
His snout held a mouth of jagged teeth, but he didnât bare them. His eyes were a brilliant blue, brighter than the lake, and they tracked Dreeâs expression with a warm and cunning intelligence. When he saw her, a line creased his forehead in a frown.
âYou got in trouble again,â he said, the words rolling off his tongue in a low, rumbling growl that was accompanied as always by a trail of black smoke.
The smoke was a trait of his particular species. Dracone was home to four different species of dragons, separated into autocratic clans by the color of their scales and the inherent abilities that went along with them.
Lourdvang was a Nightwing. Nightwingsâ hides were as dark as pure ebony, or shaded purple, and their personalities just and fair, though by now they mostly hated the humans who had turned against them. Once they had been close with humans and were the dragons most often used by riders like Dreeâs father.
There were also emerald dragonsâOutliers, the wildest of the four typesâwhich unleashed bubbling, acid-green flames that burned like molten steel, melting and incineratinganything on contact. Outliers were also the least intelligent dragon clan, and in recent years they constantly attacked humans on the outskirts of Dracone, always hunting for food . . . and for vengeance for their kin that had been killed by dragon hunters. Only the most daring riders had ever partnered with them, and it often ended in tragedy.
The third species were the golden dragons, Sages, a rarity since the rise of dragon hunting. Sages were the polar opposites of the Outliers: they valued peace and harmony, and they never attacked humans or other dragons. Dree wasnât even sure if they could breathe fire. They instead had the power to provide those who looked at them with feelings of contentment and joy, and still they were hunted. Dree was enraged whenever she heard of a Sage being killed. There were few left, and it was said they had fled far from any human settlements.
Finally, there were the red dragons, Flames. Flames were the ancient enemies of humans and other dragons alike, and they were dark crimson, like blood, and much larger than the other dragons. Flames considered themselves above humans and the âlesserâ dragons, and history was stained with the blood of those unfortunate enough to stumble into their path. It was said that they considered humans to be locusts sweeping over the lands, which explained their merciless destruction of entire towns and villages whenever they were seen.