Kingdoms of Ohm: The Lonely Dragon #1 ✓

The Wrath of Jorryn [Pt. 2]

I've never felt so helpless before.

Smelling death was nothing compared to the rotten taste that followed after it, dear reader. Any lone bystander would assume a fresh-kill just by the odors that drifted from my body. And I couldn't blame them: I looked more dead than alive.

Wounds of large and small now marked every draconic scale, spoiling their sapphire-rich glow with specks of molten red. Every twist and turn of my body equaled that of a branding iron to the skin. Even my muscles ached, a forked tongue flickering outward between each painful breath. Truth be told, I felt like I was fighting a war.

And losing.

My enemies weren't keen on succumbing to my attacks. It took far too long just to kill them simultaneously. Now I laid here beneath a rock, licking my wounds, and panting in relief.

Hoping that this would be the end of it. But I feared it was only the beginning.

    I scowled to myself. It was hard to say if I was miserable or angry with what my life has come to. I still sought peace as all creatures do; it is the universal ideology cemented into the heart of Ohm. But peace wasn't promised -- one way or another a monster will seek pleasure from you in the form of a fight. It happened to the Ancients, it happened to my kind, and it is happening now; with Lykaios, the vampires, and even the madness that followed. No beast is ever spared from the ruthlessness of a fight -- not the strongest dragon, the smallest ant, or the smartest man. Without the expectation to face a fight, you were all but fresh-kill to a mosquito in the wind.

And had I been human, I would have perished a long time ago.

At least my kind was prepared; we were taught to defend ourselves, to oppose our enemies, to seek our pleasures on our own accord and win with honor. Peace came from victory, not from chivalry.

    But tonight was different. This wasn't a challenge of peace, or a fight for dominion. Because, while honor may justify an enemy to a foe, only death blessed my demons with their wretched lust of bloodshed, torment-

    And death.

A minute went by when I returned to all fours, using my arrow-tipped tail to propel me upward. With one claw gripping the massive rock face to my right, and another to keep my body upright, I slowly drew back to my full height, eying the limp corpses of both shadows as if they were an unclaimed prize.

They better not move, I hissed a wish to the wind, lashing my tail while my sights stayed firm.

A second minute passed. Still, nothing had changed. Yet the dead still tampered with my soul, forcing my lips to curl upward as if threatened by evil. Like the ticking of a jack-in-the-box, I kept my focus, preparing for anything to happen. My instincts demanded that I'd agree to a well-deserved victory, but that didn't seem acute enough to accept; I knew stubbornness would soil the earth if I ever thought rationally.

And I was never more right.

All of a sudden, the first shadow began to twitch and growl, its twisted head snapping back in place like magic. Claw marks and shredded skin fused together with ease, as did its lopsided smile which retained its original shape. The second shadow decided to echo his brethren from a distance, unbending its severed back and standing upright as if nothing happened.

I wanted to curse the gods so badly. My head raised up, a groan folding to the clouds to announce my pain.

"W-Why...?"

"Our hunt... shall not cease until-"

"Rrrr... For Kantar's sake!" I growled at the shadows. "Why won't you die?!"