Chronicles From the End of an Age

Queen of Fire - 50Yrs BTA

Athaer took a step forward, breathing in the familiar scent of fire and blood. The ashen ground she walked upon was hot, to the point it could boil water, not that the heat would affect a fire dragon in any way. The wind carried the smog of a nearby active volcano, spewing its pollution over the land. A snowfall of ash caressed her gleaming red scales as it settled on the ground below.

The murmuring of thousands of voices echoed around her, forcing her to hold her head high as she gazed toward her spectators. Tens of thousands of dragons, most of them fire, sat or lay on the steps of an ancient building, looking down into the arena she found herself in. The steps, crafted from what had once been molten earth, leaned outwards, rising to several hundred dragon lengths high and quite close to a thousand dragon lengths in length. It could take up to five minutes to fly from one side to the other at a reasonable pace. An oddly large arena to house the battle between only two dragons.

Athaer turned toward her foe. Theleon, a fire drake who held the title of king of the fire dragons. The most powerful of them all. At three hundred years old he had certainly earned the respect his name carried. Athaer could taste the fiery power that radiated from him, it shrouded around her, demanding every ounce of respect it deserved. Instead, the dragoness sat to her haunches, letting a slight smirk cross over her maw.

Her own power echoed within her, the fire in her being begging to be let out as it reacted to her excitement of the proceedings. She could feel it, swirling around inside of her, like a hatchling with a new toy. She didn't blame the fire, it was only acting as a mirror to what she felt. It helped her focus, to concentrate, knowing that this fight would decide the rest of her life. She wouldn't lose. After thirty years of training for this, she couldn't.

"You can back out, if you wish," Theleon rumbled in Drakin, the language of dragons, a language that consisted of the grunts and growls that were intrinsic knowledge of every dragon.

Athaer chuckled, shaking her head. Theleon was nearly two hundred and fifty years older than her, and her head only came to his shoulder. He was likely stronger than her, faster than her, definitely more experienced. He had fought and won these battles for a hundred years, ever since he had taken command the same way.

"No... no, I don't think I will. What? Are you scared?" chortled the dragoness, her tail lashing back and forth against the ground.

He snorted, "You are still young. You don't know what you are getting into."

Athaer only smirked in response, before looking up as a long low roar echoed over the arena. Their fight was being announced, finally. A large trumpet was situated at the top of the stairs. It was made to enhance a dragon's voice so that it could echo over several kilometres. Though no one would admit it, Athaer guessed such an apparatus could have only been made with human hands.

"Athaer, you challenge King Theleon for rule over our nation. Do you wish to back out of this challenge?"

Athaer raised her right wing, knowing that her own voice would never carry over such a distance. It was a symbolic gesture, meaning she was ready to fight.

"King Theleon, you accept this challenge?"

The drake narrowed his eyes at Athaer, before raising his own wing in willingness to enter battle.

"Then, let the challenge commence, and Terrinian be with you," the speaker announced.

The dragoness chuckled slightly at the mention of the name given to the element of fire. They had no idea how true that statement was. With a roaring cry, she launched herself forward, the fire that had been dancing around inside her exploding outwards, igniting her body in dangerous flames. Theleon matched her, his own fire scorching the ground below, turning ash and sand into molten rock.