A Dragon’s Wrath

Isaac shuddered as he heard the roar that heralds death and the screams of his fellow soldiers. When he signed up for the Royal Army of Willstein, he expected to deal with a few bandits now and then. Maybe when a war was declared he’d saunter out onto a field with thousands of men by his side. This? This was not what he signed up for.

He peeked his head out from the wagon he was hiding under and saw scores of black skeletons, their weapons nothing but molten steel clasped in their boney grip. He carefully crept out from below the wagon and looked to the sky, where he saw the beast that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his, probably short, life.

It was as red as the fires it cast from it’s mouth and was more dangerous than a million soldiers. Its four wings carried it across the sky like a giant roaring arrow and its eyes promised nothing but a painful death. It flew to the earth and slammed onto the ground, its spiked tail whipping towards a small group of soldiers while its black talons tore into another group near it.

3,000 men had marched towards the Tower of Triumph with the intention of ridding the world of this foul creature. If Isaac had to guess, he’d say there were 500 left.

“Isaac, get a hold of yourself soldier! We have to kill this beast!” Isaac’s prince, Prince Peter III, yelled before lifting his spear and charging the beast. With the magic passed down from his ancestors, he grabbed the wind and allowed it to lift him towards the beast’s head with his weapon outstretched, ready to end the battle once and for all. His blond hair shined with the sun and Isaac was sure his blue eyes shone with excitement and power worthy of thousands of songs. That was the last anyone saw of the warrior prince before the enemy swallowed him whole.

That was enough for Isaac as he quickly turned around and fled from the battlefield. He caught sight of one of the few horses left and, ignoring the outraged cries behind him, quickly mounted it and rode away. He didn’t know where he was going or where he would end up, all he knew was that he had to get away.

When he saw his home, Willstein’s Hold, he knew that he was safe and allowed himself a sigh of relief. That was... until he saw the shadow engulf his form and heard the roar that would never leave him. He slowly looked up and saw the incaration of all that is evil and deadly in the world flying above him. He saw the beast move towards the city he had grown up in and wept in despair.

He and the other soldiers had only managed to anger the creature. And now all of Willstein would know how powerful a dragon’s wrath is.