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Alone in the darkness Wyard only had her mind and memories to occupy her time. The dragoness hadn't eaten for a while and she doubted any sustenance would be supplied anytime soon. Starving and still, Wyard pondered her imprisoned fate and what came before.

She hadn't always been a dragon and neither had she been female either. She had been Wyard the Seer and a member of an order of warriors who loathed all of dragonkind and for just reason as well. The fire-breathers had been a scourge upon humanity, a cruel force that would have driven humanity to extinction had the order of dedicated dragonslayers not been formed. The combined might, ingenuity, and hatred of humanity had been enough to twist fate so that dragons were the ones on the verge of extermination. Wyard had been there when the clash between the two species should have ended forever. She and five other knights had traveled far from their homeland to hunt down the last dragon. When they had reached the inactive volcano they had found the last dragon already deceased. They had celebrated too early, for a spirit that claimed to be the dragon's god had possessed the corpse and had reformed it into a more fearsome form. The knights had rallied and attempted to fight the dragon, but their bodies had rebelled against them, twisting into the very things they hated. Worse, the knights had found themselves female and gravid. Laden with eggs and unused to their forms, they had no way of fighting the draconic deity. After they had pushed out their first clutch, the deity had laid with each of them and ensured their continuing pregnancy and the rebirth of their new species. It was then that Wyard's companions had begun to lose their minds.

The stalwart Tond had been the first to give in to her new fate immediately after the male had mated with her. It had been easy enough for Wyard to tell even without her third eye when this had occurred, for the humanity had left Tond's eyes and the way she looked at the male from then on out disgusted Wyard. Given what the dragon had done to them all, none of them should have been looking at him with anything but hatred. Yet Tond had given the male lustful glances from there on out.

Litwin had been the next to go. Her twin sister (once brother) Elstan had tried to bring her back, to rekindle her humanity and memories. When it didn't work, Elstan had sunk into a depression, only snapping out of it when her mind matched Litwin's--that of an obedient breeder.

With only half of their number left with unbroken minds, Leof, the leader of the group when they had been knights, had attempted to keep those that remained sane that way through what communication they could manage while the male was around. It worked well enough for Wyard and Leof, but not Godin. The formerly jocular knight barely spoke anymore at that time and would speak no more after her second mating with the male. After a time the laughter had died from her eyes and she did not look at Wyard and Leof in a way that indicated she recognized them as something more than broodmates.

After Wyard had laid her third clutch was when she began to wonder how much longer she could continue. The male had promised them they would have a lifespan of thousands of years and it hadn't even been more than a month. She knew Leof could last a long time, but how much longer? Her own mystic mind was very resistive, but Leof had been but a mere man. This question was never answered for it was at the time when the dragonesses' first clutch was about to hatch when other humans had arrived.

These arrivals did not belong to the order Wyard had been part of, but she recognized them for what they were--her own people. She had been surprised to see magic-users among the dark-skinned warriors, magic being the very thing that had gotten her exiled from then in her younger years. Magic had proved to be the arrivals' saving grace, for it allowed them to jump from the volcano's top and to the pit where the dragons roosted below, the dragon deity not among them. The humans had immediately set to work attacking the dragonesses. While those brainwashed among them fought, Wyard had cowered behind a rock while Leof had watched over her. The humans had made short work of the twins and Godin before the draconic deity had arrived from above. The humans had not faltered at his presence, however, and seemed to actually be prepared for his intrusion. The most power magic users among them had gathered together and shielded their companions from fire and flame before launching a counterattack of their own, a chilling ray that froze the male midflight. They had maintained the beam until the totally iced up dragon fell to the pit and shattered into bloody shards of meat and bone. Wyard hadn't believed what she had just watched. The male's transformative powers had made her slightly believe in his claim of divinity. She hadn't thought he could be defeated so easily.

Wyard had expected the humans to celebrate at that point, but they turned their attention to the two remaining dragons. They had attacked Leof, who died without striking back, remaining loyal to her original kin to the end. Leof's demise had struck Wyard hard, though she had known there would be no other way this could end. Still, she had expected to at least perish at the same time, but the humans did not grant her death. Instead, one of the tattooed mages had looked into her eyes and nodded. Wyard had fallen unconscious and the next thing she knew she was alone in the darkness with only her mind and memories to occupy the darkness.

"Not alone," a voice within her mind spoke, one that was not any part of her and didn't belong there. "There's always me."

Wyard shivered. The voice had to have been a trick of her brain, a nightmare for an awakened mind. She would have detected another's presence. Even as a dragoness her third eye was aware and acute.

"I am greater," the voice spoke again. "The greatest hiding within a weak mind."

The voice was not so rough or booming as it had been in life, but Wyard knew what the presence was--the male, the self-proclaimed draconic deity. Though she was aware of its existence now, she could still not find him within her consciousness.

"Proof of my ascendancy," the voice said. "I am above your contemptible consciousness."

Wyard began to panic. How had the dragon infiltrated her so? She should have felt something, anything, yet in her mind he had remained with nary a hint of his presence. Perhaps it didn't matter, anyhow. He was just a voice within her busy mind. He was not physical, he could not cause any more harm. In a sense, she was his prison. She wondered if the mages had put him with her, and that was why the one mage had nodded and--

"No."

That one word brought Wyard's thoughts to a halt. He had proven a point. The voice had priority.

"You know why that human nodded. He knew. He knew that you have retained your pathetic mind. He had pity on you."

Wyard's mind reeled. The voice had to be lying. It made no sense. If they had known about him then why not--

"I do not lie. You are the one who is exemplary at deceiving yourself."

Wyard shook her head. She saw things more clearly than others thanks to her attuned mind. Self-deception would be a hypocritical practice.

"They knew about him too. They knew he still retained his mind. They still killed him. They killed Leof. They killed your friend."

Wyard shut her eyes. She had to sleep. She had to move away from the voice.

"Don't you hate them?"

The dragoness curled up as comfortably as she could on the hard ground.

"Don't you hate their vile humanity?"

She sighed. Yes, she could feel it--the oncoming of sleep. Blessed oblivion.

"It's all connected, the mind," the voice said. "You think you can resist me there too? You are weak. You would have broke before Leof. You were breaking then. You nearly broken when you saw me take him a third time. That's why they killed him. They knew he was carrying eggs. They couldn't risk it, but you--pathetic you, the smallest of them all, the weakest--they could spare you. The last dragon imprisoned, a man's mind within. An inferior fit to a superior form."

Sleep was moments away...

"You will bend," the voice promised as Wyard fell into unconsciousness. "You were never that strong."

"Wyard!" A voice called.

Wyard opened his eyes and hastily got to his feet. Leof stood before him, grim and battered, yet there still was fight within the aged knight's eyes.

"We've done it," Leof said.

Wyard looked down at his feet. They stood on the fallen corpse of a large green-scaled dragon that gaze sightlessly into the dark sky. He took a step toward Leof and suddenly tripped and fell. He caught himself not on a dragon's rough hide, but the blood-soaked body of a dark-skinned warrior, one among many of the pile he stood upon. He glanced up to Leof.

"Victory," the knight said.

Wyard awoke into the same darkness she had fallen asleep to, the same darkness that had accompanied her since her imprisonment. Her stomach rumbled, as if the hunger pains weren't enough indication that she was ravenous. Unfortunately, there was simply nothing to eat.

"Would your rather be dead?" the voice asked. "Or would you rather have your vengeance?"

Wyard whimpered. Momentarily she had forgotten about the dragon's presence.

"There will be no food. Never. They mean to starve you out. An indirect demise. No blood on their hands. A death of both a man and a species. Extinction."

The dragoness got to her feet and flapped her wings. Despite owning them for quite some time now, she had never actually had the pleasure of flying.

"You have more than one reason to hate them. They exiled you."

And so they had. Wyard had been but a child when she had discovered her third eye. Her people disapproved of magic and anything they could not control. Had disapproved. Wyard's own parents had thrown her out of the village. It had been kindness. The others had wanted to kill her. She had hated them for it, but she had kept it contained. Survival was more important than feelings. Somehow Wyard had escaped the culling party sent after her and had evaded any other predators. She made it elsewhere, where skin tones were lighter but magic was no less harshly judged. She had hated not being able to be herself, yet she kept it hidden inside as always.

"So much hate," the voice said. "It could have made you strong. You chose to be weak."

Fear had ruled Wyard. She had always been afraid someone would find out about her gift, about her curse. She worked odd jobs where she could use her ability to her advantage without revealing it. One such job was as part of the town guard, where her sense could often serve as early warning for bandits and raiders. Early warning, however, was never enough warning for a dragon. It killed them, it killed them all except Wyard.

"They killed them," the voice whispered. "They killed them all except you."

Wyard only survived because of the sight and due to Leof and the others arriving to slay the dragon. With Wyard's assistance, they did so. Afterwards, Leof had invited Wyard to join them and so Wyard did. The older knight had immediately picked up on Wyard's ability. Rather than berate Wyard, Leof had encouraged the younger man to learn, for it was a gift, not a curse, not both.

"He died meaninglessly. You can change that."

Wyard idly wondered how long it took for a dragon to starve to death. She figured she still had some time. Until then, she would not have her peace.

"You will not have peace until you have vengeance. You will not have vengeance until you have peace."

Wyard was flying and it was wonderful. The cool air felt pleasant against his smooth scales and his movement felt free and unrestricted. He could go anywhere, see anything. He could race the moon.

A suddenly familiar cry caught his attention. He looked down and caught sight of Leof surrounded.

"Wyard!" the knight called. "Save me!"

Wyard swooped down, but it was too late. The knight's enemies pierced his body. He groaned and crumpled to the ground just as Wyard landed.

"Wyard!" Leof said weakly, coughing out blood. "Avenge me."

Wyard looked upon his two-legged enemies with hatred and prepared a blast of his fiery breath...

Wyard burped out a small burst of fire as he returned to consciousness. Something felt different, but he wasn't quite sure what. Whatever it was, it couldn't be too important, otherwise he would notice it, right?

He was still famished, but a new hunger had joined it. Not hunger for food, but--

"Vengeance."

Wyard breathed out another gout of flame, this one larger. He was surprised he could do so, given that he didn't have fuel for the fire.

"It burns within you," the voice said. "I chose you. I called you. Of them all, the hatred ran the deepest. Hatred for humanity. Hatred for our enemies."

The dragon scratched at the ground. It was rough and unyielding. He leaped up into the air and flapped his wings, floating higher and higher until he hit something. He looked up at the ceiling of thick stone.

"You ever only loved one and they killed him. Those humans killed him."

Wyard ceased hovering, gliding downwards until he landed onto the ground. He looked up at the ceiling again, but this time looked beyond.

"Leof knew you were the strongest. He relied on you. He relies on you now. You know why."

Sight beyond sight granted Wyard vision of a mage high above him, perched in a chair, studying the teachings of his profession. A gatekeeper--Wyard was not his only prisoner. The mage might seem distracted, but he was at the height of his energy. Now was not a good time to make a move. He would have to wait until a time when the mage would be disoriented. He would have to wait until nightfall.

Wyard stretched his legs for a moment before curling up. He did not sleep to rest, but to wait.

"The mage will break," the voice promised as he fell into sleep one more time. "You are strong."

Leof made no sound as the arrow pierced his throat, a mortal wound. The green-scaled dragon toppled over, falling in front of Wyard.

"Avenge me," Leof breathed. His eyes glazed over and he stared sightlessly into the dark sky.

Wyard looked over Leof's corpses to the humans beyond. The archer that had slain Leof grinned wickedly, already nocking his arrow for a shot at Wyard. Before he could fire, a dark-skinned man wearing purple robes stepped in front of the archer. He put his hand before the bow and the archer begrudgingly lowered it. The dark-skinned man looked into Wyard's eyes and nodded.

Wyard nodded back and unleashed a gout of flame, incinerating his vile humanity.

Wyard awoke empowered. His hunger was gone and the fire in his throat and mind burned its brightest.

He extended a mental probe as before to the mage above him. The man slept in a large bed, unknowing of the danger beneath. Wyard alerted him to this fact by making the probe visible to even the man's slumbering mind. The mage immediately awoke and stumbled out of bed, already murmuring a spell underneath his breath. A portal appeared before him and he jumped through.

The mage now stood before Wyard and he looked shocked at what he saw. He had been expecting a starving white dragoness, not a great dragon. He stumbled backwards in shock towards his portal. Wyard grinned maliciously and jumped at the mage. He caught the mage within his foreclaws and together they rolled into the portal. They were instantly transported to the mage's spacious bedroom. After transporting such a large creature, the portal's energy was expended and it promptly vanished.

The mage struggled under Wyard's grip in more than one way. The dragon had no trouble keeping him restrained and neither was squelching his mental calls for help a difficult feat. There would be no interruptions--he could do whatever to the hated human he pleased.

Wyard locked the image of the mage's form in his mind. Then he began to make alterations. Below him the mage screamed in agony as his bones crunched and reformed and scales grew out and over his skin. His fingers extended into lethal talons while his legs adjusted to quadruped walking. The man's cries deepened into bellows as his face extended into a draconic muzzle laden with sharp teeth and fitted with a forked tongue. His neck elongated while two horns curled outwards from his cranium. A scaled tail burst from his tailbone so that the mage was now much more dragon than man.

Though the mage looked like a dragon, he was only slightly larger than a hatchling and still somewhat humanoid. Wyard relinquished his grip of the changing man and stepped back as extra muscles, scales, and denser bones made for a larger and heavier dragon. Yet even as mass was added to him, something else began to shrink within the mage's genital slit. He shivered as her manhood vanished without a trace and was replaced by a tight, reptilian pussy and the requisite chamber for motherhood, rendering the near-dragon a dragoness. Now nearly as large as Wyard, she had no time to inspect her new sex before a pair of wings painfully tore themselves free from her back. Her changes complete, she looked upon her new form in horror.

Wyard lunged forward and forced the dragoness's head to the ground, an easy endeavor given that she was already lying down and that she barely knew how to use her own body. He looked within her confused mind. Although it would be entertaining to twist it, he hadn't the time at the moment. To achieve his goal, he merely restricted her access to her previous memories, leaving her only reference that of instincts. She would learn soon enough.

As the dragoness found she could not think of herself as human before, the fear in her eyes bled away and was replaced by lust. After all, standing before her was a strong male.

Wyard relinquished his grip and watched the dragoness closely. She got to her feet and turned away from him. He chuckled when her next action was to lift her tail enticingly. He responded by clambering upon her as his member slipped free from his genital slit. In the next moment he entered the dragoness's slick passage easily. She hissed in pleasure and grabbed upon the wooden bed frame to steady herself. He pounded her relentlessly and they both relished every moment of it. The dragoness trembled with each thrust, wishing it would never end. This was something that Wyard could not grant her as it was not long before he came within her. The dragoness's eyes widened with surprise and ecstasy as his seed filled her womb. A moment later he pulled out, leaving the dragoness to bask in the afterglow.

He looked upon the dragoness, not really thinking about her but what would be soon inside of her. The eggs would grow quickly and they would be pushed out minutes after they were all ready. It would take a little longer for the dragonlings inside to develop into hatchlings, but the wait would be worth it. They would hatch and most of these whelps would have an unseen third eye just as their mother and father. They would be indomitable.

Wyard turned away from the dragoness. He would leave soon; to find others he could change. This was the start, the beginning of resurgence and retribution. Humanity would pay, not just for Leof but also for the near extinction of Wyard's kind. Revenge would be his, and revenge was not a dish dragons served cold.