Chapter 11

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Location: The Valdt
Footsteps echoed on the marble floor, the sound of paws clicking across the stony ground like a very large two legged dog, stalking through the palace chamber. The claws rhythmically tap tapped and the paws pressed against the cold stone ever so softly, a spring like bounce in the creature's every step as she paced back and forth, every move direct and calculated, every step painstakingly rehearsed over years and years of intensive training. Her tail was held out behind her like the sapling of a tree, sturdy yet flexible, and adding to her balance. Her head was held as high as she could hold it, at ten feet tall compared to the vast thousands of feet of the vaulted ceiling that allowed for dragons to fly within the space. Every detail of every inch of space she diligently observed, her eyes being particularly keen to the tiniest movement. Muscles rippled down her neck and back as she turned her head to listen to a distant sound. She was an unusual breed of wyvern, her acid green hide being graced with bright yellow stripes. The end of her tail was adorned with sharp protruding scales that led up to her double pronged venomous barb, and her neck was graced with a frill, both very unusual on a wyvern. Her yellow wings were devoid of the red eyespots that all others of her particular breed had, and there was a slight air of authority to her that commanded respect, which might have been why she had been chosen as captain of the Empress' guard. She was highly intelligent, with a keen eye for danger at the slightest whiff, and a determination that made her nearly impossible to bypass.

"Alpha Talyn! There is..." She heard another wyvern scream in alarm from the distance, before there was a soft thud. And then, she smelled it, a scent that triggers all wyverns into a state of alarm and attack, the smell of her comrade's blood.

In an instant, her instinct kicked in. She knew that if she went in the direction of her fallen comrade, it was likely she would fall to a similar fate. She stealthily spread her wings and silently took to the air, strategically landing on one of the many tall marble columns that would be too high up for her to be seen, yet she could see everything below her perfectly. She knew that because there had been no noises of  a struggle besides the other wyvern's exclamation of alarm, that her comrade had swiftly been killed, the murder weapon easily penetrating his soft hide.

Unlike a dragon, a wyvern's skin was composed of tiny soft flexible scales that made their hide much less metallic and lustrous as a dragon's, but adding camouflage in dense forests. A wyvern's skin was as soft and smooth as the petals of a rose, and slightly warm to the touch. It would be much easier to sink a weapon into a wyvern's flesh than a dragon because dragon scales are armored while wyvern scales give about as much protection as the hide of a cow. Because of this, wyverns were more vulnerable to attack, and Talyn knew this all too well perched on the pedestal and scouting the territory below. Because of their supposed inferiority to dragons, wyverns used their numbers to their advantage and were masters of strategy and nonverbal communication. If one of their numbers were attacked, all surrounding wyverns would instinctively gather to retaliate, yet Talyn had a feeling that the death of her comrade was bait for a trap. She let out a shrill whispery sound, a vocalization that was too high pitched for anything but the keen ears of a wyvern, to warn the others not to advance.

Talyn had to find a way to contact someone other than the nearby wyverns to help, because whatever had been targeting the guards must be lying in wait. She let out a series of chirps in the high pitched secret tone telling all the others to be on high alert and to find help.

Kaeoryn descended the stairs, an eerie silence having descended on the large foyer of the palace which he was entering. He stopped short and noticed that something was off. He cautiously scanned his surroundings, taking every last detail into account. He summoned an axe out of the shadows, in case he would need to defend himself. And then, he realized what was wrong. The wyverns guarding the place were all gone, not a single one of them was flying or stalking about. He stepped forward, highly on guard and ready to strike at any second. A flash of light whooshed past, and he raised his weapon as an automatic reflex. He stepped forward, listening in anticipation. The room spun around him, and something about his field of vision was not quite right. Disoriented, he fell backwards. He braced himself, noticing that the ground beneath him was soft and warm. What he saw was simply a marble floor, and it was as if he was suspended in thin air. And that was when he realized that it was an illusion and that he could not trust what he saw. He closed his eyes and listened, and he felt with his hands what he had fallen on. His hand slipped into something wet and sticky and warm, and he instantly knew from experience that it was blood. Whatever he had landed on was once alive, a fresh kill.

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