Virion was well aware that he had bungled his affairs in the most unseemly manner, but it was far too late to stupor in regrets of his stupidity. If he were to make it out of this alive, which he fully intended to, then his thoughts couldn’t afford to veer towards the unproductive category.

Another brutal gust of wind slammed into his carrier’s side, followed quickly by one to the back that rattled the entire craft so hard Virion’s teeth chattered.

The storm was unrelenting, brutal and savage as if it were out for blood. Rainfall attacked the thick shell of the carrier’s shields while it tried its best to navigate the sporadic winds, but even with its advanced navigation systems and Virion’s magic carving a path through, the storm was getting the better of them both.

“Shun!” Virion cursed as he freed his deadly grip on the armrests and took hold of the wheel instead. “Unhand the controls!”

Immediately, the carrier shut its automated systems off, allowing Virion to fight the vicious storm on his own. Warned only by his magic, he dipped right, moving with the next bout of violent wind before it could rip his carrier’s exterior free.

It had been a number of luhes since Virion flew on his own, but it came as easily as getting on a pegasus. But as he was quickly discovering, this storm was no pegasus– it didn’t relent with a show of discipline. Instead, thunder boomed all around him as if it were cursing him for being up here in the first place.

For a moment, Virion thought the thing to be a living, breathing thing meant to be a murderous testament to the dragons who lived within these lands.

Not for the first, or probably the last time, Virion found himself directing his curses inwards for not heeding his mother’s warning. He’d been too angry, too wrapped up in complaining to each of his siblings about the misfortune that had befallen him to listen, and he’d ended up leaving at the very latest hour.

The moons were high risen by the time his carrier set off on the navigated path, but the moment he crossed over the Kodo seas and entered the dragons’ territory, the currents picked up, jerking Virion out of his stupor with a force even he could not deny.

If Virion had any sense, he would have turned around and set out early the next day to be safe. But Virion’s sense was purposefully limited to matters of his appearance, so he had overruled his carrier’s warnings and continued onwards.

Now, he was in a scene painted in unforgiving shades of black and grey, battling against the storm’s relentless winds from dragging him inwards where the carrier was not likely to hold for long. Mind whirling, Virion dipped lower, hoping for a glimpse of the lands below, but it was pointless; there was only more darkness.

Virion had two options, neither of which assured he’d live to see another day, but a choice had to be made, so Virion centred his mind.

“Show me the navigational map,” he demanded whilst trying to move with the winds rather than against them. Immediately, a clear picture appeared in the corner of his window panel.

“We are currently flying over the middle of the Darkest Isle of the Tail,” the carrier’s AI announced while it zoomed in on the map, “there are several islands below, each home to a particular dragon or nest.”

Virion did not have the time or luxury to be picky, “Focus on the closest.”

“Your grace, a landing is not advisable,” the AI replied, its programmed nerves purposefully jolting its tone. “Without permission, this can be viewed as an attack, and you can be met with hostility.”

“Noted. Now focus on the closest island.”

The AI wisely shut up and presented a projected view of a small jagged island covered almost entirely by trees. The flickering image before Virion was unwelcoming, daunting at best, with no presented structures he could spot.

Virion sent a prayer to Ythene and promised himself he’d never disobey his mother again before he drove the carrier down like a freed arrow.

The machine rattled again, alarms sounding as the winds tried to push it back up, causing damage Virion forced himself to ignore at the moment. He instead settled his mind at the centre of him, gathering his magic.

Virion’s gift had always been with light– from the suns or the moons, it didn’t matter, the shine of either put power in his veins. There was hardly any now, but just enough for him to harness so he could propel its force into the engines, giving it the last boost it needed to push past the storm’s edge.

The greys cleared as he broke free, gifting him with a view of the landscape below, a mess of trees that was just like the picture, and though Virion searched earnestly, there wasn’t a single free stretch of lands in sight.

“Harsh landing it is.”

As Virion barrelled downwards, he gritted his teeth and braced himself, but nothing could prepare him for the impact of his carrier’s shields clubbing into the trees. The outer glass displayed a slideshow of broken branches and splayed leaves, each slamming against his screens one after the other as he cut through it all like a blade until he met the ground and finally came to a stop.

For a moment, Virion didn’t dare to move.

He remained perfectly still with his fingers caged around the wheel as if he were still in the air, fighting the storm’s rage. But the storm was raging above him now, distant with only the sound of thunder and rain below.

On the ground, there wasn’t a single sound or movement beyond the swaying treeline. He’d done it.

A shaky breath escaped his lungs before Virion found himself desperately gasping for air. He’d done it! He was alive somehow– truly, it was a mystery to him, and he could finally breathe again.

With some effort, Virion pried his fingers free from the wheel’s handle, ignoring how they shook as he sank into his seat and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Next time, Ythene forbid the possibility, he would leave the moment he was told and complain once he reached safely to his destination.

“Mother is going to crucify me,” if she were in a giving mood.

If the storm continued as he suspected it would, then Virion would not be able to safely leave his carrier until morning, at which point, he’d be dishonourably late to the Great Assembly. Then it wouldn’t only be his mother’s rage he’d have to face, but that of all of Colony.

“Shun,” he cursed gruffly before taking a proper look around.

There was nothing but the dark outline of woods and rain. Even with his trained vision, Virion couldn’t see a thing beyond a few paces in any direction, and each of those was obstructed by the fallen trees he’d hit on his landing.

There was no sign of life he could feel, but one had to be present. Each of the scattered islands on Colony was inhabited by at least one dragon. He was not alone.

A shudder ran through Virion as his shock seeped away and reality pressed further into the foreground.

“Record,” the AI presented a time in front of him as well as an unflattering image of himself that Virion pretended was only a nightmare. “This is Prince Virion of the Anael Clan. Due to unforgiving weather conditions, I have landed my carrier on an island within the midsection of the Tail. My coordinates are 11.993297, -26.204223. I have not made contact with the khan of this island, but I am going to do so. It is my intention to proceed without strife.”

Virion allowed a moment to pass, “Stop. Log the recording and send it home the moment you can.”

“Your Grace, perhaps waiting here may be best,” the AI spoke, somehow managing to sound worried. “Exploring a dragon’s territory may only make matters worse.”

“They likely already know I’m here. I am to stay the night, the matter is out of my hands, but I’d rather do so in a space more comfortable than this.”

Virion hadn’t seen any structure on his way down, but that wasn’t to say that there were none. The island was quite big, and while dragons were reclusive, they preferred comfortable, fine living surrounded by all their treasures.

Virion would very much like to do the same tonight.

“Your Grace—”

“If they do not want me, I will return to this ship and wait until I can leave,” Virion promised as he moved out of his seat and freed his cloak from the back of it. “Dragons do have a reputation for being perilous, I admit, but this is Colony. Every being on this planet is a representative of their species, an advocate of peace. I will not be in danger unless I call for it.”

The AI finally remained quiet from that piece of information, and Virion found himself smiling proudly while he slipped the hood over his head. He was about to unlock the carrier’s doors when his eyes caught the gems glittering on each of his fingers.

When Virion had left home, he’d expected to land with several eyes on him and had dressed accordingly. In the present situation, all his finery seemed like too much. Not to mention the love dragons had for precious things.

Virion was in no mood to trade what was his for permission to stay.

With the sound of rainfall to keep him company, Virion took the time to strip his body of anything even remotely precious, which turned out to be everything other than the clothes on his back. By the end of it, he felt almost naked, vulnerable in a way he only allowed his reflection to see.

He hesitated on the silver band on his pinkie finger, the one his wona had given to him when he’d stepped down to allow Aiasthlyn to rule. He doubted it would be anything of value to a dragon, but it was of value to him, so he took that off too, hid it better than all the rest, and finally left his carrier.

Immediately, Virion was assaulted by winds that were ten times more brutal than they’d felt through the carrier, just like the rain that assaulted him now. He ducked his head and focused his magic on the lands, on feeling the life on the island that was rich and welcoming.

Elven magic was a flow of life from one to another, a connection that one felt and nurtured as one grew. If one did not return that love to the living things around them, the connection would be severed over time. Virion focused on that connection until it carved a path for him in the direction of the strongest life force on the island.
It felt to be a tragic distance away from him, but Virion was not one to cower in the face of a challenge, no matter how unpleasant. So, he straightened, wrapped his arms around himself, and started onwards.

Each step was a task, but it wasn’t one Virion could not complete. He may prefer lounging in his cot all day, but he kept himself strong as any find prince would do. His body was a honed weapon, and that strength allowed him to keep moving onwards. It might not be pleasant, but he would make it to the dragon’s abode, find safety and shelter, and take a long heated bath before finding sleep.

“Who are you?”

Virion screamed so loudly he was sure Ythene heard him. The shrill, shameful sound was still coming from his throat as he hastily turned around and met a pair of deep black eyes.

They were darker than the skies above, darker than any depths Virion had ever known, and they were rimmed by a ring of red that seemed to burn within the dragon’s skull.

The dragon.

Virion had seen many dragons – what elven creature hadn’t – and they all looked the same to an extent; unblemished, elegant, and younger than their years could ever be. This dragon was nothing of the sort.

For one, this one had a jagged scar that stretched across half of his face, through one of his red-rimmed eyes, and down the entire left half of his face. It seemed impossible to imagine, but something rather fierce must’ve gotten close enough to claw the dragon’s face open.

Added to that, the towering being wore a full beard that was as black as his head of hair and equally as unkempt. As were his clothes that were little more than worn rags barely clinging to his body with the winds. The only thing proper about him was the dark boots on his feet, but Virion suspected perhaps those had been stolen rather than acquired.

Virion blinked at the man as if he were an illusion he’d dreamt up, but that couldn’t possibly be the case, otherwise Virion’s mind would’ve provided him with the courtesy of fine attire and a shave.

“Are you finished with your wailing?”

Virion remembered himself enough to bring his gaze back up to that dark eyes that were yet to blink or part from him. The dragon watched Virion silently, waiting whilst showing nothing of his thoughts.

Virion cleared his throat and tried to straighten, but his scream was still echoing somewhere in the distance, and no matter how good his posture was, the dragon was still several heads taller than him.

“I was not wailing,” Virion snapped, chin held high, “I only reacted as any would when they discovered they were being stalked.”

The dragon raised the black brow over his wrecked eye very slowly, “Stalked?” he repeated as if it were a curse, and Virion was temporarily abstracted by his voice.

It was deep, well-rooted like the rest of the dragon that did not even sway amongst all the winds and rain. Whilst Virion was fighting for his life not to tumble over, the man was a stoned mass of confidence. Confidence and muscles that Virion couldn’t ignore when the dragon folded his arms over his broad chest.

“Yes, stalked,” Virion repeated unflinchingly.

“There was no stalking,” the dragon dismissed, “I approached, and you did not hear me. The fault is yours.”

Virion found himself stammering on a response. Outrage could not hope to define the fury Virion felt at another daring to blame him for their own rude actions.

“Now, answer me,” the dragon snapped before Virion could find a way to argue his point, “who are you?”

Virion was all too happy to give that answer, then the dragon would learn his place and speak to him with more respect.

“Prince Virion of the Anael Clan,” he said, sure to enunciate each syllable. “You may refer to me as your grace.”

The dragon did not react in any of the ways Virion hoped— wide, shocked eyes, a hasty bow, perhaps a blush. No, the rough-faced dragon did not react at all. He only peered at Virion as if he were a small wrasse putting on a performance.

“Why are you here?” He asked once more before tacking on, “Your grace.”

Virion bristled, his body growing into a tight bundle of muscles even the winds could not sway.

It was what Virion demanded, but he quickly found himself wishing he hadn’t with the way the scoundrel had muttered it. Like a mockery– a placation. He’d said it, it was clear that the title held no weight with the dragon.

“Would it be so remiss to lend me your name before you begin your investigation?” Virion asked, his magic’s glamour the only thing hiding his irritations.

For the first time, the dragon showed something other than indifference as his slashed brow twitched slightly.

“Zirkhlon,” he answered sharply, “now, if that pleases you, your grace, please tell me, why are you here?”

Virion’s fingers curled into fists at his side. Punching a dragon would not end well.

“There is a storm,” Virion replied as calmly as he could manage through his caged teeth, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed its presence, but it is quite violent.” Virion looked up lazily with a gesture of his hand. “I was travelling through the Tear, but it forced me to land.”

Zirkhlon huffed, and though he did not say it or even show it on his face, Virion got the distinct impression that he thought Virion foolish for travelling at all.

Virion’s vision wavered like his glamour, but he persisted.

“I recognise that this is your freehold,” he continued diplomatically, “if it suits you, I will remain in my carrier until it is safe to travel.”

Virion’s initial plan of spending his evening with a fine, mannerly dragon was long gone since meeting the brutish Zirkhlon. He’d much prefer his AI for company than this rude, pompous beast.

“I only came with the intention of respectfully informing you of my presence,” he added, already turning, but before Virion had even finished, Zirkhlon was shaking his head, dismissing him as if Ythene gave him the right to do such a thing to a prince.

“I can allow no such thing,” Zirkhlon stated, the decision already made to him. “The conditions of the storm may worsen still. Your safety would be guaranteed under proper shelter… Your Grace.”

Virion fought hard to keep his expression passive and his voice steady, “I am sure I will manage with my shields.” And if not, the storm would not be nearly as crude as you.

“Perhaps,” Zirkhlon agreed, “but I will not face the fury of Colony if ‘Prince Virion of the Anael Clan’ dies on my island.”

“I will not–”

“There is no use arguing,” Zirkhlon cut in, already turned and marching in an entirely different direction.

Virion found himself staring dumbly at Zirkhlon’s retreating back, his disbelief rendering him mute and paralysed.

Never in Virion’s entire life had any elf outside those in his brood treated him with such unbridled disrespect. To speak over him. Dismiss him! The dragon had done both and was doing so currently as he carried on without so much as a glance back.

Dragons were proud, unyielding creatures, it was true, but they were also carriers of an inconceivable amount of intelligence, more so the ones on Colony. Virion didn’t doubt for a moment that Zirkhlon knew how he should treat a prince and was simply choosing not to.

Thunder boomed above, but the storm’s anger was nothing close to Virion’s that brewed in his chest.

—————————-

Been here for five minutes and he got Virion heated, loooool

Thoughts??????????

Thoughts on our new character, Zirkhlon?? On an intro to the dragons of the elven realm??? On Virion’scrash landing and their meeting???

Let me just say, writing Zirkhlon had me forgetting I had Aiden at home. Likeee the way I love this man, someone hold me. But y’all will see for yourselves soon enough!

As stated, you can expect a chapter every Wednesday until we’re all done, but if you want to skip the wait, the completed story is on Patreon and my website for paying members! Links in my profile bio!

Before then, we’ll be getting another Aiasthlyn update this weekend, and over on Patreon and my website, the extra about Hagen harassing Julian and Aiden is already up!

Until next time,
Byeeee humanssssssss