Horrors of Fire and Skulls (Mystical Warriors book 2)

A SYMBOL USED THE WRONG WAY

Vaskàr headed outside to start his usual full day, patrolling the planet and the cities that may hide evil spirits waiting to attack a wide-open area of humans. He exited out the front entrance Wavador entered and inhaled heavily the fresh, palm tree-scented air. He heard a great loud cheer from the surrounding people.

Newscasters, cameramen, journalists, and some businesspeople dressed in expensive tuxedos were there. People from all around the planet were gathered in one large and wide crowded group. Arms were waving. Voices were calling him. Reporters were talking in front of the cameras. There was happiness going on here.

Vaskàr never seen or had such a warm welcoming crowd on a midmorning in the late springtime. He could feel the fire within him starting to burn through his inner organs, if he had any. He just could feel this soft burning going on inside him like a spark igniting at lightning speed.

Even as I exit my Temple, I can't stay away from the spotlight, he complained. This is the life of a celebrity, which I can see why famous people try to go in disguise when they want to go for a normal day as a normal person.

As Vaskàr walked down, dozens start to hastily flock around him. Not wanting so many people around and ripping off his armor, Vaskàr jumped out of the way and glided to the roof of the Temple, behind one of the towers of the Temple.

At least I don't have to be in the spotlight of the sun's light.

Vaskàr wasn't overzealous of the fame he has now. It was one day he was only famous at a normal school but only popular at night when he was called the Dark Dragon. Now he is just one star that has fallen from the sky. He didn't at all mind the fame; it was the people he would mind. If a Mystical Warrior had too many people crowding around him, it would make him feel ill and shake. Absorbing so many positive energies from so many people would make a single Mystical Warrior would be overwhelmed like virus overwriting a computer.

Even this many people, it was too much for him to be absorbing at once. Hearing so many voices of happiness, sadness, and joyfulness was too much for Vaskàr to handle. He was still considered a warrior rookie. Only the eldest and experienced warriors would be able handle this sort of absorption.

Suddenly, his mind was blank; the cheering voices in his mind stopped. For a second, there was great cheering and was silence all of a sudden.

There was a strong wind that blew in Vaskàr's face. He could feel feelings of realization, amazement, surprising, and a small amount of fear in the people down below. His eyes peered down below, thinking there was a sudden attack at the Temple.

It happened to no other than a red-scaled dragon, and it was no other dragon than Ásvald. The Dragon King was in an open area behind all the people and looking straight up at Vaskàr. The brother of the Silver Dragon appeared before the young warrior where the large dragon should be in the cave keeping the dragons under control. In case the dragons ever go to war with other creatures.

Dragons are considered to be monsters to humanity. Many legends and tales tell of such beasts laying villages to waste, and burning down entire villages in burning fires. People burning alive as well and not live to tell the tale about the dragons burning down small villages or big, mighty castles. Even the humans of the modern era are afraid to see dragons in the flesh, of the sheer size and scary looks of each dragon, and Vaskàr was in command of thousands of them.

"Vaskàr," he called. "There is something you should see before it makes the headlines of the newspapers and this thing the humans call the 'Internet.' It is rather important."