Dragons: A Narrative Fiction

“Something is not right,” Trogon shouts, and then stands pacing the floor. “These writing have told us nothing” their eyes all watching him. “Why don’t the rest of you speak up? Lies, for instance, how would the ancient know the smell and mold of the tunnels, or a castle rose from the ground. I tell you something is not right.” Daphne “Something is not right with these writings regardless, so then it is up to us to discover what they have not told us and why.”

Elder William, seething scraping his chair on the floor, he raises his arms flinging them about gesturing to the group, “No the ancient told us a lot. Daphne you
She tried in desperation to pull out of the general’s grip, but he tightened it. The general began to laugh horrible loud, in a resonant sound, as he pulled her through the tunnel. “High-spirited, daring, and brazen, I like that, and in time you will be mine,” he shouted. He had the hands of a monster. The dragons were the protectors of the region and people known as light. The surviving dragon’s life energy travels to another to insure the life force of all dragons at their death, to sustain their kind. The creator wrote across the heavens of our universe their history predefined. Darkness feared the dragons, for them knew they kept careful watch on them. Darkness had tried to rise before to take the light, but they had halted them. Darkness felt whoever could control the dragons, would control the people of light. Dynamism of power and command would be theirs. The dark kingdom had many underground chambers with long and short lava tubes connecting to another. Each of these caverns contained a city the tunnels all-connecting back to the Dark
A subterranean, cavern wide and deep, containing homes and shacks built into the walls and lit with light crystals. A marketplace that ran down the center of one volcanic tonal, tables and chairs spread throughout the market, it was crowded with the creatures. The floor breath dampness, leaves and twigs rotting, insects, beetles, and the sound of crickets’, white blind rats scrambling along the walls, spider, centipedes so large munching on bats the stench from things rotting pungent, nauseating decomposing odor. Fires lit, hereabout giving off an ominous glow casting shadows that seemed to take on a life of their own. Workers inhabit there, the creature’s half-human, and half-animal bore with large-curved tusks, and covered in hair, mining minerals, for their weapons. Immense heat from the furnace melting the oar, made it very humid, and hot along with constant pounding of the metal, which echoed