A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania Book 2)

by T. J. Klune

  And how David was taken from the dragon by death. It was said the dragon mourned so loudly that the stars trembled above until they changed into a dragon, permanently etched into the heavens to scour the skies for his lost friend.

  Like most legends, there was a romantic notion to it. A bittersweet longing. Whether it was true or not, I didn’t know. I’d never really considered it before.

  Now? Now I could believe.

  I could believe because the stars began to move.

  The dragon began to move.

  It was slow at first, as if awaking from a great slumber.

  It stretched its wings, the tips brushing against Vhan’s Fury, causing it to pulse.

  The dragon began to move across the sky, and it—

  It fell.

  I cried out as the star dragon plummeted toward the earth, wings folded at its sides. At first it was just made of stars, but as it fell, lightning began to arc between them, outlining just how massive this dragon truly was. The dragon itself didn’t make a sound as it hurtled downward, but the lightning snapped off it in loud cracks, burning the air around it.

  It was coming straight for me.

  I took a step back. And then another. But I couldn’t run. I couldn’t make myself look away.

  Right before the dragon would have crashed into the earth, it spread its wings, catching an updraft that slowed its descent. The ground shook beneath my feet as it landed, its lightning claws digging into the forest floor and—

  No. Not the forest.

  Sand.

  The trees were gone. The grass was gone. Beneath my feet lay red sand, heavy and thick. Sand dunes rose as high as mountains all around me. I was in a valley of sorts, alone with David’s Dragon. There was a lone tree, bone-white and stunted, growing off to my left. The moon caused its shadow to stretch long across the desert floor, the branches reaching out like spindly fingers.

  Then the dragon spoke.

  “Sorceress,” it said.

  And that wasn’t right. I wasn’t a woman, I wasn’t a—

  “Dragon,” I said in response, but it wasn’t my own voice.

  It was one only recently made known to me.

  I wasn’t Sam of Wilds.

  I was Vadoma Tshilaba.

  No. No, no nononono—

  “Why have you summoned me?” I asked, my accent thick on my tongue.

  “I have felt it,” the dragon rumbled. “Deep within the heart of this world. The blight. The cancer. It festers. He will come and consume everything he touches.”

  “Who?” I asked, and my voice trembled. Like I was scared.

  “The dark one.” The dragon crouched down until its chin almost rested on the ground. The sand swirled as its nostrils flared. “The burning man. A plague of locusts. Once he betrayed those that loved him more than life itself. He was exorcised from this world, trapped in a realm of shadows, as they could not find the strength within to end his life, even at the cost of their own souls. But a door will be cracked open, and he’ll crawl from the depths to devour everything he sees.”

  “Why do I hear this?” I asked, my heart heavy in my chest. “Why have you chosen me?”

  The star dragon shifted, raising its head toward the night sky above. I looked up, following its gaze. The stars were moving, dancing in the dark. They rushed toward each other, molding until they made the shape of a man and a woman. The man had his arm wrapped around the woman’s shoulders. His other hand was resting on her swollen belly, and they were smiling, they were smiling, and it was made of starlight, and I (Sam and Vadoma and others?) felt my throat thicken at the sight.

  “A child will be born,” the dragon said. “He will be yours by blood, birthed by those you have banished. He will be kind and brave. And foolish. Headstrong. His heart will be lightning-struck and marked as if scarred. There will be goodness in him, and a power unlike the world has ever seen.” The man and woman made of stars suddenly exploded, flashing brightly. The dragon sighed as he looked back down at me. “If only he can control it. There will be temptation. The path to the light is always shadowed by the dark. But for none more so than him. It will whisper to him. And he must resist.”

  My hands were shaking. “My grandson?” I whispered.

  “Yes,” the star dragon said. “When the time comes, he will call upon my brethren five. He will allow their voices to be heard. The white. The fire. The two-snow.” The dragon wrinkled its nose in disgust. “The… Kevin.”

  “The… Kevin?” I repeated.

  The star dragon sighed, wings drooping. “It’s best if you don’t ask too many questions on that one.”

  “O… kay?”

  “Trust me when I say it wasn’t my idea to include him. Fate’s a strange thing with a sense of humor most can’t understand.”

  “But—”

  The dragon reared back, wings spread wide. “The boy must be protected until the time comes when all will be revealed. He must gather my brethren five at his side. Then and only then will he be capable of fighting back the darkness.”

  “And who is this darkness?” I asked.

  The dragon said, “One who is known.”

  I sighed. “Specifics?”

  The star dragon shrugged. “It’s a prophecy. It’s supposed to be vague.”

  I frowned. “I do not like you. I do not like most magical creatures.”

  “Trust me. You weren’t my first choice either. There was this nice man in a village to the north, but he accidentally turned himself into a ghoul and now spends his time eating rotting flesh. I could have gone to your daughter, but the magic in your blood skipped a generation. So here I am.”

  “I’m your last choice.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Useless,” I said. “Just like the rest of your kin.”

  “Oh, so you’ve met many dragons, have you?”

  “I don’t need to have met many to know you’re useless.”

  The dragon rolled its eyes. “I’ve done my job. I’m going back into the sky now. Try not to let the world die or anything. Oh, and find Morgan of Shadows. He’ll watch over the boy until the time is right.”

  “Morgan of Shadows,” I repeated.

  “He’ll know,” the dragon said simply. “He’s expecting this, even if he doesn’t know it yet.” And then with a great flap of its wings, it rose back into the sky. The lightning exploded, and the stars hurtled into the dark until they’d resumed their rightful place.

  I took in a great gasping breath and—

  I was back in the Dark Woods.

  “What the fuck,” I whispered, running my hands up and down myself. I was in my own body again, which was good, because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life as an elderly gypsy woman. I was in control again. I was—

  Everything around me was charred black. The forest. The trees. The ground. Embers floated in front of me, burning orange, bright and hot. Every breath felt like I was choking, a vise grip around my throat. My eyes stung from the smoke and ash. I turned and—

  I stood outside the gates of Meridian City.

  It was on fire.

  All of it. I could hear the screams of the boys and girls who worked the streets as their flesh was seared from their bones. There was a bright flash, and something exploded just inside the walls of the city. A tall guard tower began to lean dangerously until it tipped over, the stones breaking apart as it collapsed. A large plume of smoke erupted into the air and I ran for the gate and it was surrounded by Darks. They chanted words in the ancient tongue, saying fie and clo and wei, and there was fire and ice and wind, and it tore through the gates.

  “Stop it!” I shouted at them, and they all turned to me—

  I stood outside the City of Lockes.

  It’d been leveled.

  Only remnants stood, broken and stark against the bloodred sky.

  I said, “This isn’t real.”

  I said, “This can’t be real.”

  I said, “This can’t be real.”


  “Oh,” a voice said from behind me. “But it is. Or it will be.”

  I whirled around.

  There stood a man. Hidden in shadow. I couldn’t make out his features, as the air around him seemed to be blurred and distorted. He was as tall as me, shoulders broad and waist tapered, but beyond that, the only thing I could make out was the smile on his face, genial and inviting.

  He made my skin crawl.

  “Who are you?” I took a defensive stance, digging my feet into the earth.

  “Who am I?” he echoed. “I’ve asked this question of myself for longer than even you could know. I am a wizard. I am a lover. I am a brother. I am existing.” He took a step toward me. “This isn’t real,” he said, looking around, taking in the destruction behind me. I didn’t dare turn. “I dream. Now. I’m dreaming. I know this because I’ve done it for so long. How have you called me here?” Another step forward. The shadows trailed along behind him, clinging to him. There were whispers in them too soft for me to understand, though I swore I heard my name. There was a pull toward him, something that hooked itself in my chest, wanting me to step forward, to find out all he knew. I pushed it away. It was harder than it should have been.

  “I didn’t,” I said. “I don’t even know you.”

  “Perhaps,” the man said. “But you feel it, don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Lies,” he said. “We’re connected, you and I. We dance. What is your name?”

  I said nothing.

  “I can see you,” he said. “Barely. You’re a boy. But you’re hidden by the light. It’s so bright. Tell me, why do you burn so brightly?”

  “Why are you hidden in shadows?”

  He laughed. “Of course that’s how it is. A bit hackneyed, don’t you think? A boy. Their futile hope. Me. Their inevitable future. The light and the dark. I mean, could you possibly get any more cliché?”

  “Seems pretty on point to me,” I said, and there was gold and green all around me, stronger than it’d been in a very long time. It reminded me of the time on the dirt road outside of the village of the corn. The Darks and their lightning flowing through me as it electrified my heart. I swore the hairs on my arms were standing on end.

  “This isn’t about heroes and villains,” the dark man said. “No matter what your narrow little view thinks it to be. It’s never going to be as black and white as that. No, I’m firmly planted in the gray. Moralistically, I could go either way, I suppose. It just depends upon how much you’ve pissed me off on any given day.”

  “Gods,” I groaned, unable to help myself. “You’re just like everyone else, aren’t you?”

  “How’s that now?”

  “You monologue. Like the rest of them. Gods, I am so sick of you people, it’s ridiculous.”

  “What do you mean by you people?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You. The Darks. Every fucking bad guy that’s ever had so much as a thought come into their heads. You’re all the same. If anything’s clichéd here, it’s you.”

  “Ah.” The man sounded amused. “There’s a difference between them and me.”

  “Really. And what would that be?”

  The smile twisted into something dark and wicked. “When I make promises, I keep them. You see, I know who you are, Sam of Wilds. I know your story. I know the choices you’ve made. The people who love you. The people who despise you. I know your life and how you came to be. The boy from the slums, brought up because of the inherent magic within you. Why, it’s a story for the ages. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of it? To have it. To hold it. To destroy it. I promise you this, Sam. Stand in my way and I will take it all from you. I am coming, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

  He moved then, quicker than anyone I’d ever seen before. One moment, he was still ten feet away, and the next, he was crashing toward me, the shadows whipping around him in black tentacles as if they were a conscious being. Before I could move, before I could even think, his hand covered my face and pushed. But it wasn’t physical. It was cerebral, and I felt him in my mind, crawling through everything, filtering through memories, discarding them left and right as he pushed further. There was some kind of loop connecting us, and the images I got in return were quick and painful. There was fire and blood. Death and destruction. I heard him scream from a realm of shadows where he was dragged into the dark again and again. They tore into him, manipulating his magic, twisting it darker than it’d ever been before.

  Eventually, he began to like it.

  Then he found him. Found Ryan. The idea of him. The memories. My feelings. All about Ryan. And he latched on to it, took it in his hand, and said, “Cornerstones. Of course it always comes back to cornerstones. And so young, you are, having already found yours. You’re just a child. And so is he. I know his face now. He will be the first, I think.”

  And I said, “No. You can’t have him, you can’t have him—”

  His grip tightened on my face. He leaned forward, his cheek brushing against mine. The shadows that surrounded him crawled along my skin. His lips were near my ear when he whispered, “He is your heart. And I will rip it still beating from your chest.”

  And then he was gone.

  I gasped, whirling around.

  The City of Lockes burned.

  The dark man was gone.

  But I wasn’t alone.

  Vadoma. Or an approximation of her. She was younger here, even more so than she’d been in the desert with the star dragon. She was vibrant and beautiful, looking so much like my mother that it knocked the breath from my chest. But where my mother’s eyes were warm and kind, Vadoma’s were hardened like steel. It was disconcerting, seeing that difference.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I asked her, voice shaking. “Who are you?”

  “Your grandmother,” she said, looking at the remains of the City of Lockes. “A gypsy. I have lived a long, long life, Sam. Longer than you could possibly imagine. I have seen things come to fruition that were shown to me in the shadows. There have been times the shadows have lied, that the light between the screaming stars showed a path that was eventually averted by a thousand possible choices. But this… this, Sam. All paths end in this. Unless you accept your destiny.”

  “I don’t have a—”

  “You do,” she said. “For the dark man will not stop until he’s seen this world burned beneath his feet. Haven’t you ever wondered why you were given the magic you have? Why, out of everyone in the world, the gods chose you as they did?”

  “No,” I said. “Because I learned not to question the gifts I’ve been given. Because any day they could be taken away.”

  “Dilo,” she said. “You foolish man. Life is about questions.”

  “Life is about living,” I said.

  “Which you will not do,” she said, trapping me neatly. “Unless you accept your fate and face what is coming. You don’t ask the questions you should because you’re scared of the answers you will get. He has touched you. Can you feel it?”

  I could. The warm heat of his hand on my skin. “Who is he?”

  She shook her head. “I know not. Much is hidden from me. You heard the star dragon.”

  “Of course it’s hidden,” I said, irrationally angry. “Because that’s the way it works. Is that all it is? Smoke and mirrors? Is he even real? Or is this just some twisted game to you, allowing you to fuck with my mind? I don’t have time for this.”

  I turned to go somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t near her. I’d only made it seven steps when she spoke again. And though her words were few, nothing else she could have said would have scared me more.

  “He will die, Sam. The one you love.”

  I stopped, heart racing. The City of Lockes had been devastated by something. And she… she was playing this game.

  I didn’t want to say anything else to her. But of course I did.

  “Who?” Though in my secret heart, I knew.

  “I have seen it.” And she sounded desperate now. “No ma
tter what happens.”

  I turned slowly. “Are you threatening him?”

  “No,” she said, and in that, I thought she was being honest. “I have no need. Especially if it’s the truth I see.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Not about this.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Your eyes are not open, Sam of Wilds.”

  I took a step toward her and—

  I was in the throne room.

  It still stood, the walls and ceiling intact.

  On either side of me were the people of Verania, their heads bowed in supplication. They wept, the women wiping their eyes, the men blowing their noses. Even the knights along the walls had tears in their eyes.

  And I stood in the middle, walking down the main aisle, the red carpet leading to the dais soft under my feet.

  But instead of the King’s throne on the dais, there was something else.

  I said, “No.”

  And took a step.

  And then another. And another.

  The people of Verania stared at me with scorn as I passed, as if what awaited me had been my doing. I ignored them as best I could, wanting to prove Vadoma to be a liar. This wasn’t possible; it wasn’t anything she said it would be. This was all a dream, a trick of the mind, no matter what Randall and Morgan believed. She had tricked them somehow, but she wouldn’t get to me. I swore she wouldn’t.

  The King stood on the dais, head bowed. Justin was next to him. Gary and Tiggy. Kevin was nowhere to be seen. My parents. Randall. Morgan, my mentor, the man I trusted maybe even more than the knight who’d taken my lightning-struck heart in his hands to make it his own. Morgan, who had such sadness on his face, such despair.

  “Morgan?” I said as I got closer, voice breaking. “Please. Please.”

  And he looked away.

  On the dais sat a large rectangular stone. Atop this stone lay a knight in full armor, sword clasped between his hands. His eyes were closed. His skin was pale. His lips looked almost clear. He was as beautiful in death as he was in life. My knight.

  “No,” I choked out, trembling hands reaching to touch, to wash away this nightmare. “This isn’t real. This isn’t real.”

  “It will be,” Vadoma said, and for the first time, she sounded regretful. “The paths I have seen. They lead to this, Sam. You think him your cornerstone, and he will die.”