FSE

Furry search engine

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Seraphor lay lazily in front of his own cave, watching it if there were threats or friends coming to visit. Normally, the day would be cheerful with his best friends paying a visit, but since Spyro and Cynder had a date in their own world, no dragon visited him that day. The rest...well, they were busy, and the silver red knew it already. Still, a friend to talk to would be nice.

He wanted to go hunting, but he had responsibilities, not that he was properly mated with Avila. It had been two years since Avila's belly started to bulge, and it was getting bigger and bigger with the eggs in it. Despite of being a death dragon she still could make an offspring or two, which made a pleasant news for all to hear. Right now, she was resting from the ovulation sickness, and couldn't help Seraphor in flying to the kingdom. He could run around with his super speed, but right now, responsibilities took most of his time. The dragon needed a better way to stop the boredom. He needed an action.

In a scenario akin of a wish fulfillment, he found one, though still out of his usual standards.

A man, around the age of 30, came to him with a horse. From the look of the warrior's garment, he wasn't coming from Xici kingdom, as it looked tribal and...maybe more like a barbarian. He had no fear, probably had been familiar with dragon. What he said next, though, intrigued Seraphor.

"Now I can claim your head for what you've done to our village, vile beast," said the man. "Say your prayers!"

"Wait, I think you've mistook me for another dragon, young human," said Seraphor calmly. "I never remembered ever burning down a village. I can't even fly."

"Tell that to your brethrens, dragon! Capturing maidens, burning down villages, and raiding the gold stash are everything you've done, right? Especially to that kingdom!" exclaimed the dragon slayer while pointing to the kingdom. "I will slay you and make sure western dragons never destroy the north again."

"Bullies...those pain in the ass..." thought Seraphor with a scoff, which was a symbol of mockery (somehow) to the slayer.

He pulled out a sword that shimmered under the sun. It was brightly polished, and from the look of it, it was forged from a fine mietal, which was sharp enough to cut flesh clean off. Seraphor, on the other hand, just made another smile, which made the slayer angrier.

"Hey, I appreciate you carrying that sword, but don't be a show-off," said Seraphor, now with a serious tone. "I don't want to be your enemy, so, leave my home, okay?"

"Your threat won't help you, dragon. This sword is bathed in the magical water of Hren, and I've wounded many dragons with it."

"Human, I know a dragon-slaying weapon when I see one. That one is only used to slay demons, not dragons."

"Then give it a taste on your flesh!"

Seraphor's experiences and instincts was enough for him to be aware that despite of it not having the foul aura of a proper dragon-slaying weapon, it could still cut through Seraphor's flesh. Making a side jump, the silver red managed to dodge the vertical overhead slash.

"Whoa, hold your horses, warrior!" exclaimed Seraphor. "You can't swing something dangerious like that in front of my home! Do they even teach you manner up north?"

"Don't lecture me over manners!"

Despite of wishing for an action, Seraphor wasn't in a mood to kill a disillusioned man, yet the dragon-slayer was annoying. Also, knowing of a potential spy in front of him, though, he couldn't let the man go. He also knew that if his mate knew of this disturbance she wouldn't take second guesses. Seraphor wanted this slayer to go in peace.

But then, he didn't enjoy playing with his prey, despite on not having an appetite with humanoid creatures (this included Lycans and Shifters). Dodging an expert swing, he jumped back and made a backflip, using his tail as a strong whip. The force of the attack hit the man directly and it threw him away, but he had a strong grip to his sword.

Frustrated that the human was relentless after three harmless attacks, Seraphor did what a dragon had never done many times. He didn't try to dodge this time, but instead, when the big sword started to descend on him, he grabbed the hilt and, trying not to snatch away the human's hand, pulled the sword away from his grasp. The man was clearly surprised by this turn of event, but the dragon also had another concern. Always a risk-taker, Seraphor drew a long breath and cut his other fore leg, drawing blood as a result.

"Ouch. This sword is sharp," said Seraphor while throwing away the sword. It made a clanging sound on the cave's floor. "But fortunately, no tricks. You really are freelance."

The dragon-slayer was too stunned to say a word. Seraphor could bet that in all his life, he would never imagine a dragon would plainly pull the sword out of his hand in such a manner like disarming.

Seraphor sighed, dropping down to sit, and said, "Hey, human, don't get distracted. You might get killed. You do know that you're still facing a dragon, right?"

"I...was defeated after being disarmed...by a dragon?" said the slayer, still in disbelief. "How is that even possible?"

"You do realize I'm not that big, right? Also, my claws work like hands, and it comes very handy."

The dragon-slayer couldn't reply, unable to form any words from disbelief and shock. Seraphor then tried to break his shock by saying "At least you're in luck, human. You met me, a dragon who can understand reasons. The dragons in this region are being paranoid lately after a large scale attack 5 years ago. After a dragon prison/ concentration camp/ gladiatorial arena was liberated, the Order are rooting any connections a human or a dragon had to the Dragonsbane Organization. You're a lucky man, you know? If you're not a freelance I would just kill you for being my sworn enemy."

The dragon-slayer had calmed a bit, and could form some words to reply.

"Are you pitying me, dragon?"

"I don't blame you for trying to slay me, human...eh, what's your name?"

"Tyrain."

"Tyrain...right. You must have reasons to tell about your quest of vengeance against westerns. Aren't there any northern dragons up there?"

"The drakons are not seen for over a hundred years, and we assumed that they had simply gone extinct."

"Or sleeping, which was a more logical explanation."

"Apparently the dragons from the western region migrated to the mountain and started plundering kingdoms and villages, demanding ransom, taking gold, eating our cattle...I mean, we're not a properious region and our cold climate means that it's hard to grow food. This is getting worse with the dragons invading us. Many men from our villages took arms. We're experienced warriors, mind you, not some greenhorns who can barely raise a sword."

"But have you ever killed one before?"

"I have...once. It was an old dragon, barely able to raise his head. That's my first kill and...I..."

"Tell me, Tyrain, do you...ever felt guilty over that?"

"I...must admit, I did. When my sword struck his heart, memories of his past flashed through me. I...can't imagine what I had just done. Before I slay him, the dragon...begged me to end his misery. He had such a good life and I just...wanted to kill him for my own gain...for my people's claim. And so I was...whispered by a demon and I...cut his head off, showing it to my villagers. They cheered on me, but I felt...empty. It's like...I've not slay a dragon. I killed someone."

Seraphor didn't immediately reply. Tyrain was trying to act tough, but the silver red knew that inside the slayer's heart, he felt the guilt. Unlike those demonic Dragonsbane, Tyrain was blinded by his own tradition. The silver red didn't blame him, but he couldn't forgive the village that taught him to kill.

"When I met you, silver dragon, I realize how wrong I am to challenge a real dragon. The village elders told me to find a worthy opponent when they knew I was only ending the dragon's misery, which caused an outrage, thinking that I've been too soft to my enemies and pitying the dragons. They wanted your race to be annihilated from the face of earth, dragon, but I can't help them. Yet, I was taught to be a warrior, and I won't stop until I can finish my quest..."

"Tyrain...if you want to raise your sword against me again, I will surely kill you before you even have a chance to swing that cursed thing again," said Seraphor with a growl. "I can't believe what your elders had become. They are the monsters of your life, Tyrain. You're blinded by their cowardly ambition. Dragons and humans have lived in harmony together, sharing knowledge and culture. I can't blame you for what you've become, and I don't blame the north for fearing us, but the thought of not respecting a dying dragon? That's a fucking insult to our race.

Everything we've done to protect the humans are out of pity, and what the Order had stopped us from attacking the north is so you humans can try to help your native dragons." The dragon the made a cynical laugh. "Now I know why they're in sleeping beauty mode. They are fed up from your useless tradition, your...barbaric piece of shit. Now, with my allies getting nervous on getting trigger happy, I doubt the northern region will survive our assault if we ever knew the Dragonsbane are there."

"You...you really think...you can kill them? You're ruthless, and is it because of anger?" said Tyrain. "What have they done to you?"

"They killed many of our friends, and we are making them our enemies. Since the time of our ancestors, the dragons are not taking part in human affair. We have no quarrel with the likes of you freelancers, but never raise your sword against my friends. If you or your friends ever do that again, I will cut them down like minced meat and throw it to the dogs, rotten in plain view."

"I...never have thought...that western dragons are not like what I knew," said Tyrain. "Now I know for certain. You're ruthless, cold, and like us humans, you feel pain. You're not greedy or vile...but you're just ruthless."

"We are drawn into this fight, and we've lost many friends. I've made many unnecessary foes. Dragons started to fear humans, betraying our trusts in each other, cracking our relationship with the humans.... This peace will never last until the slayers are gone."

"But...what am I going to do? A warrior's life is not for settling down!" said Tyrain. "Your death is the source of my childhood ambition and you've just ruined everything! I can't return to my village like this!"

"Then I suggest you to never go back while I destroy the taint."

"What are you thinking in the name of the gods?! I won't let you do that. There are families and friends, and I'm protecting my legacy there."

"Then leave it all. Start a new life," said Seraphor coldly. "Or, burn it down, betray the anti-dragons. I don't care anything. If it is to ensure all of our survival, then I'll gladly destroy everything that has destroyed our trust in each other."

"Then you must kill me, here and now," said Tyrain with a stern voice. "I, Tyrain Labghan, will not let you destroy my tradition!"

"Sera, are you talking with somebody? That other one seems pissed."

The silver red suddenly froze. His cold manner suddenly became panic and anxiety. His pupil started to narrow out of fear. He turned and said, "I-it's nothing, darling. I-I have it under control."

"Are you pissing somebody again, Sera? Is that what you call 'control'? Are you hiding something from me? Are you talking to a..."

"It's not what you think it is, I swear!"

Seraphor then turned his head back to Tyrain. "Tyrain, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I want you to play along and put away that sword. Do as I said, and you don't need to go home in ashes. Please..."

The slayer might had never seen a panicked dragon before, and he obliged, trying to reach to his sword and sheathed it to his saddle as quickly as possible. Not so long after, Avila, Seraphor's beloved mate, appeared from the darkness of the cave. Her belly was heavy and full with their eggs. Seraphor couldn't' hide the fact that her fangs were intimidating enough, even for a dragon. He jet black appearance with hidden two dark tails behind her were the indications that she was a death dragon, an awakened state of Argoon dragons, so he heard from his father-in-law.

Her unsettling aura had also affected Tyrain as well; he was clearly trembling, which took Avila's attention.

"Well, I'll be surprised if you're not struggling to stand, my friend," said Avila with a sincere smile. "Is my mate giving you the trouble?"

"Uh, no, I was..."

"He is a messenger from a village with no guardian. Since he's lost I was, uh, giving him the direction to Xici." "Then why the human talked to you in like he's angry?"

"I...lost my control on my composure, uh...dragoness," said Tyrain, clearly shaking. "I...wanted him to...guard my village."

"Uh, yes, Vila, that's why! I'm...guarding our home and Xici so I'm kind of...pre-occupied."

"So it seems. Sera, there's something I must tell you."

"Uhmm...what is it?"

"My stomach...it's like burning me from the inside. It woke me up, too. Oh...I don't feel so good." Seraphor knew what state his mate was in and he couldn't be sure if he was worried or fascinated. He knew this moment was coming.

"Vila...is it time?" asked Seraphor.

"It's...getting hard to breathe..."

"Ancestors...it IS time! Avila, don't move! I'm running to Xici to get help!"

"Wait, Sera. I need my father! Just be quick about it, Sera, I...can't breathe..."

"OK, OK! Tyrain, get your horse out of the way, and stay with Avila! Don't try anything stupid or it's game over for you. I'll be back in a flash!"

Seraphor drew his breath and concentrated the electric magic to his legs. His whole body was crackling with strong electricity, and he ran, literally leaving in a flash. The speed itself was enough to leave burned marks on the grass.

Upon reaching the gate, his sudden appearance startled the guards, which was normal. Seraphor didn't have time to wait. He shouted, "Where are the dragon healers?!"

"Yort is inside the shelter, my friend," said Riant, a brown-scaled dragon, near the gates. "What's possibly the problem..."

"Sorry, Riant, no time!"

Seraphor ran away and found the shelter Riant was talking about, where Yort was tending to Jaradas. Xiciro saw Seraphor coming and said, "What are you doing running around like a crazy dragon? Speak, if you have any reasons, Seraphor..."

"Xiciro, your daughter...she's...oh my ancestors, this is not the time for talking!"

"What? Why's..."

"She's laying the eggs of your grandkids, goddamn it!"

His statement was enough for two other healers to turn their heads to him. Silence fell for a moment before Xiciro became all joyful and said, "Then what are you waiting for? Bartoz, Yort, let's help her laying the eggs of the new generations."

"Don't be all that poetic, Xiciro," said Bartoz rubbing his head (he was upright, after all). "Okay, Sera, we'll fly there immediately. You just need to..."

"Thanks, guys! Race ya to the cave!"

Seraphor didn't need time to talk with his friends. He quickly ran away and used his electric steps to return back to the cave. Upon arriving, he sighed in relief when he saw Tyrain hadn't done anything to Avila, yet the dragoness' condition wasn't improving. She was panting heavily an in considerable pain.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...I'm fucking useless!"

"Be calm, dragon! Do something to calm her down. How about if you sing for her?"

"Do I look like a bard to you?!"

"And I'm such a fool to ask a dragon to sing! Just do anything to calm her down!"

"We're the one panicking here, man!"

"You two, shut up! If you can't do anything, don't make everything worse," said Avila while trying to hold the pain.

"O-okay, hon. How are you holding up?"

"I-I'll manage."

Seraphor waited frantically for at least fifteen minutes before he could breathe again. Three dragons came when the sun had started to set. The healers landed near the cave entrance and proceeded to walk to Avila. Xiciro rubbed her belly and closed his eyes, which troubled Seraphor.

"Xiciro...will she be okay?"

"Well, this is a problem," said Xiciro in his usual calm manner. "Seraphor, Avila is laying two eggs."

"Isn't that normal?"

"It is normal if you had normal elemental tupe. Both of you are hybrids, not to mention Avila is in her death dragon state. I've never seen a death dragon has whelps when they had reached this stage. Well, I mean, not a 100-years old death dragon. This is...intriguing."

"Don't falter yet, Xiciro," said Yort. "If you can have two dragon eggs and healthy ones, you'll be a nice grandfather for them."

"Avila, dear...," Seraphor lost some words for a moment when he saw Avila's tortured state. He gulped, but eventually said, "We will have two whelps, Vila. Aren't you happy?"

"I...I wish I can be happy...if I'm strong enough," said Avila trying to form a smile. "Don't leave me, Sera."

"I have a feeling that my presence here will be a burden," said Tyrain. "I take my leave then..."

"Tyrain, you gotta see this. It's time for you to understand."

Hour by hour they tried the egg-laying procedure, a very delicate matter with special circumstances (at least at this condition). Seraphor urged Avila to be strong while the ragon healers used what they could do, either by their elemental magic or dark ones. Evening turned to night, and Avila's roar getting weaker and weaker. The dragon was in the verge of unconsciousness during her second egg-laying, despite of Seraphor's effort to try to make her awake.

Seraphor took a glance at the first egg. Unlike those eggs he once saw when trying to help Asola laying her eggs with Jaradas, the eggs were way too big to be a normal one, which explained why Avila could only bore two eggs despite of the size of her belly. While normal eggs had a size akin to a swan's in the first stage, this one was four times the size. The dragons, while experiences, weren't accustomed to this, which was getting more complicated with Bartoz's claim.

"Seraphor...we need to talk after this," said Bartoz serious. "Avila, it's almost over. C'mon, you're strong."

"Ah...it...it's cold," said Avila weakly. "It's...dark...cold..."

"Avila, please, don't go yet! They're good kids, I'll swear to you!"

With her last ounce of strength Avila roared loudly, which pushed the egg out. Avila weezed, giving unintelligible roar, before growling weakly and closed her eyes.

"Avila? Avila, can you hear me, darling? Avila!"

"Calm down, buddy, she's just exhausted," said Bartoz sighing. "The eggs are fine."

The dragons could breathe easily in relief. Bartoz then pulled Sersphor with Tyrain following (somehow also called by Bartoz). Seraphor wanted to ask, but Bartoz talked first.

"Sera, the first thing you must know, she will survive. Her will power is strong."

"That's a relief. What's the bad news?"

"No, not bad news. Important news. Seraphor, you two just had two new hybrids!"

"What?! Ancestors, that's some good news, man! We've made a new race!"

"Well, what do you know? You never changed. But, there's another important thing you must hear."

"Which is?"

"S-Seraphor! Bartoz! This is impossible! The eggs...they are hatching!"

Yort's voice made both of them turned to the eggs, which was around the size of a human, started to hatch. But something weird happened.

An outburst of energy burst out of the eggshell like steam out of a pipe. The whiter egg had a steam-like energy, while the grey one had a dark burst of energy that cracked the eggshell. Each eggs suddenly blew, leaving the energy outburst in its wake. For Tyrain, it was overwhelmingly hot with a strong force emanating from the eggs.

A moment later, the energy dissipated, leaving two healthy young dragons curious of their surroundings. They scanned around, watching their front legs, and to the dragons around them, before settling to Seraphor.

"Da...da?" said the silver one with some growls of a dragonling. The black one, which resembled Avila in any way, was busy nibbing its long tail. Seraphor extended his front claw slowly...before the silver one touched it, which caused Seraphor's heart to melt and he broke in tears of joy.

"Oh...sweet girl. My daughter...Rhaynis..."

"And...her brother...Vysrenis...the dark fire..."

Avila's statement made Seraphor more confused than her quick recovery. The black dragon started to sneeze, and from it came black fire that startled the other dragons in the cave. The silver female dragonling, Rhaynis, eyed her father in such a way that melted Seraphor's heart more, since she was so cute with those big round blue eyes watching her father innocently, and so adorable.

"Oh...I can't..."

"Rhaynis looked like you, Seraphor," said Bartoz with a chuckle. "You look like that when you're a dragonling...courtesy of Ernest."

"May I ask?" said Tyrain. "Why are you naming them with random names?"

"Well...I happened to watch the 'Game of Thrones' TV series with Spyro. Of course, you don't know any TVs since there's no such thing in this dimension. The name Viserys struck me, but I hate the guy. I just felt the name was too good to be given to an asshole like that, and it sounded like the draconic term 'strong'. Rhaynis is from the books, and in draconic it means 'snow'. Avila read my mind clearly...and those names were their names now."

After that, the dragons had rested well. Vysrenis and Rhaynis slept near their mother, which, due to the earlier experience, was exhausted severely and needed to rest. Seraphor watched them, watching how mother and younglings slept peacefully after the exhausting ordeal. Due to Xiciro, Yort, and Bartoz still had many jobs to do, Seraphor and Tyrain guarded her for the night.

Tyrain took a gulp of his ale while Seraphor watched the full moon. That night, the wolves howled, yet the silver red dragon knew that the howls were not from common wolves. He yawned a little, trying to think what time of the day when Tyrain started to speak.

"Ironic, isn't it?"

"What?" asked Seraphor.

"I came here to claim your head for satisfying my village's thirst of revenge, but now, I am sitting in front of a cave talking to a dragon guarding his three member of his family. I think my god of war doesn't want me to die miserably."

"Or maybe...you haven't seen the truth of this world yet, Tyrain. I...don't believe in gods, you see, being a dragon and all."

"I started to learn about this region, especially from you, Seraphor. How did you..."

"Run like a lightning? That's how it's done for my body. I can't fly, but my body can use the lightning magic in my body and around me to run in super-speed. Kind of like the 'Flash', but I am not a human."

"What caused your disability, then? From my elder's stories, if your race loses your wings, you will lose any fights."

"Oh, that's a common dragon's belief. What I believe is the balance of nature. If, for instance, I can fly freely while being able to run as fast as lightning, I might be the king of dragons, and conquer every being in sight. Now you wouldn't want me to do that, would you, Tyrain?"

The slayer made a laugh. "You've got a point there, dragon. I...don't quite get your name, silver red dragon. But, can I...get it from you?"

"My name is Seraphor," said Seraphor with a smile. "Use it as you wish. Names can be quite strong."

"Then the legend of the slayer's horror is true. The gods have woven the threads of fate well. It would seem that you've opened me to a broader world, and thus...my dragon slaying life must end."

"Then what will you do with your information of my name and your talent?" asked Seraphor.

"I will think about it, dragon."

Tyrain put his sword back to its sheath at the horse. The horse moved a little, but nevertheless stayed calm despite of being so near to a dragon. The slayer jumped to the saddle after securing his supplies.

"Tyrain, we part way now and here, and possibly for a very long time until we meet again. But someday, when that day come, we will reunite as friends. But until that day, remember our friendship, and the new life given to you by the dragons."

"And by the blessing of the gods, Seraphor the silver red, I wish you better life, and peaceful days."

"So long, Tyrain Labghan. Head high, be brave on the way home."

Then, as the sunrise came, Seraphor watched as Tyrain's silhouette started to vanish into the distance. The silver red made a smile to himself, content that he could give a chance to a misdirected human. Not only that, the ancestors gave him two healthy dragonlings, and started a happy family, settling down with the love of his life, after a long year.

The dragon had found peace in raising his dragonlings, and Tyrain could finally start a new life as a trader, leaving behind his sword and dragon hunter past behind. The man finally settled down in a small village bordering the north, bearing a son with his only wife. 5 years after that, he received word that proved that despite of dragons being friends, they were ruthless, when the small village he grew in was burned down, along with every legacy he ever had in there and every precious things of his past, when it was apparent that the village trained new generations of Dragonsbane slayers. It didn't hold the organization, but it stalled them, far until Tyrain had finally rested in peace on the age of 65.

35 years after their faithful encounter, Seraphor, Avila, and their offspring, alongside many of their friends, would be thrust into another event that broke the peace for the last time, when the final war broke. Every ends are told, and will forever be cemented in history.