Perilune

Chapter 1

Ever since Lyra was sentenced to the position, her heart would not steady.  She dreaded the passing of every second as if it were the lash of a whip, the culmination of each tiny cut intended to bleed her dry.  She was woken early in the morning, as if the guards were determined to remove her from the cell with windows before the last sunrise she would have seen.  They brought her to a wing of the castle which was hidden deep in the ground beneath the servant quarters; the only thing here was a stark hall with three doors. 

The nearest door led to a room that was once a kitchen, but was now simply a chilled place to store animal carcasses.  A large door at the end of the hall lead to a massive cell, and a small door directly next to it led to a human-sized cell.  Built into the larger cell to preserve space, a stone cube with walls only six inches thick would be the barrier between her and the other prisoner when she was off-duty. 

Deep beneath the kingdom, a dragon of legendary might was humanity's captive.  It once roamed free, ignoring the affairs of humans beside devouring anyone foolish enough to lust after the treasure it hoarded.  Scattered incidents of armies sent to avenge the fallen or collect its treasure being slain in minutes were remembered with enough visceral horror for humanity to leave it cautiously unprovoked since the dawn of history.

Thousands of years ago, a king lusted for power beyond human capability.  He had a precious stone stolen from the dragon's hoard, and cast an enchantment upon it; anyone who held the stone had the dragon's perfect obedience.  They only needed to possess it as they spoke; the dragon would then be forced to obey their orders until they were either finished, revoked, or the person who uttered them died. 

Lyra walked slowly around the meat locker, the echoes of her footsteps pounding across the stone as if to form the syllables of the last words no audience would hear.  She grabbed a pair of gloves off a massive wooden cart left near the door; the enchantment upon them allowed her to lift six deer carcasses as if they were weightless.  She placed them onto the cart with a grotesque slap of flesh about to rot.  The smell was approaching rancid.  The contents of this locker were livestock slaughtered in excess and game from the leisurely hunts of nobility, once the time had passed for it to be worthy of human consumption. 

The dragon was used by the king to conquer other lands.  It had jaws that could crush stone and claws that could slice through the strongest armor. It was venomous as well; even the slightest scratch would rapidly spread complete paralysis throughout the body, and the victim would soon fall unconscious, defenseless as the dragon consumed them.  Its flames melted the earth they danced upon as it vaporized all the king's eyes fell upon.

For years it tortured enemies, decimated armies, leveled cities, and disposed of the bodies, leaving only ash in its wake.  While the king commanded it, it was the terror of all the surrounding lands. It was the nightmare that tore all of humanity from their slumber, only to face a harsher reality.

Lyra paused, staring for a blank moment at her hand.  No matter how she tried to keep it still, it trembled.  She fumbled with the handle of the cart despite the ease with which it should be gripped.  She dropped it.  When she crouched down and made several attempts to pluck it off the floor with hands she could hardly guide, her knees locked.  Her body was panicking; it didn't want her to move from the spot. 

In the peace that began with the king's last breath, such a catastrophic weapon was not necessary.  Such atrocities could never be repeated.  The dragon also could not be released; the king had committed an act of hubris in forcing a dragon to heed his commands.

Dragons were ferociously prideful beasts; to have no choice but to obey the commands of a human was an insult that would never be forgiven.  Should the dragon ever be free, it would take vengeance upon humanity for the indignities it had suffered.  All would end in ash and flame in the wake of the monster the dead king had provoked.