Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

• In Brightburn Hall, Dawnbreak [The 5th Hour]

Cora was humming in the bathroom when Rafel accorded his reply to the request of his faction to represent them in the third round of the Spring Games. It was a thing of beauty and pride to fly a dragonback for his Arc. And double the innate joy for him because since he'd ascended to the realms of Eldoria from [Hel planet], he had not ridden a dragon. This was about to change today.

"Yes. I accept their request, Peitho. Let the herald know, it is an honor."

His system transferred back with her host's order, and as Rafel decidedly made use of Percival's own bathroom, he told Peitho to humor him with the names of those he'd be defeating in the avian tournament. He used the word 'defeating' in no uncertain way.

Peitho came back shortly with a list of four participants with their Arcs, which she displayed for his eyes as a long floating hologram in front of his face. Rafel glimpsed the screen as she read them out.

[Participants of the Dragonrider tournament:]

[GRIFFIN ARC: Trisha Turnbull.]

[Status: Second Year, Skyling Fae.]

[Beast: Bellerophon.]

[PEGASUS ARC: Bolta Olympian.]

[Status: Fourth Year, Lightning Child.]

[Beast: Coronis.]

[RAVEN ARC: Salome Smallbone.]

[Status: Fourth Year, Serpent Changeling.]

[Beast: Shredder.]

[PHOENIX ARC: Israfel Blüdthïrste.]

[Status: First Year, Red Titan.]

[Beast: Zarathustra.]

The list ended. And Rafel finally blinked. According to the stats, he was the only First Year competitor. Perhaps to defeat had been a gross misuse of an adjective for his opponents. Plus all their beasts sounded like they stomped on whole villages for fun. Or ate the sacrifice of babies.

'I mean, Bellerophon?'

The name of [Raven Black] Arc's dragonrider in particular gave him the chills: Shredder. It couldn't get more self-explanatory than that. Rafel was eager to meet his dragon, this Zarathustra in question. The only closeup he had gotten with the beasts was back in the Underworld when Lilith threw in her black dragon in the arena to make it spicy.

Even the most valorous of Hel's gladiators feared the river of blue fire the creature made. His Auntie's familiar had terrified him in truth.

It wasn't like Hèla's crimson spuck: Myreen of Thrasos, whom he had met briefly on virgin island. No. Lilith's black dragon looked like it liked to stick its tail in nests of baby seals. Now that he thought on it, who knew if the Dowager fucked her dragon?

They did have 7ft penises.

That was one aspect of Hel he definitely did miss. He didn't fuck the [dragon girls], [bat girls], [wasp girls] or whatever, but he certainly loved to watch them go. His mind was calm as he pulled himself up from the gigantic clawfoot tub in Percival's bathroom. Say what you want about wildlings but they really did know how to spoil themselves.

And now imagine what vanity the heart of a Van Imperia possessed. They had been Kings upon the continent for thousands of years.

"Ready?" Cora was waiting for Rafel as he stepped out in a towel.

He nodded.

"Good," she said, "I've a carriage waiting outside, dragonrider."

She helped Rafel into his flying leathers: an exquisite vermillion make. The tight-fitting pants hugged the form and was hard as tweed by a riverside. And the emblem of his Arc, the leaping phoenix was sprawled across the back of his jacket in bright red filigrees. Cora looked him over, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Very good, Your Eminence. Now you look like you could ride the fiercest dragon. Come on. Let's go."

She led the way out of his chambers and sat with him in the short buggy ride to the battling colosseum. "This is where I leave you." Cora said as she drew Rafel aside by the tall golden gates of the dome for a couple of smiling students to pass by. They had their faces painted in their faction colors and fake horns on their heads. They skipped on, waving at Rafel.

"I see I'm not the only expectant one," Cora muttered.

Rafel only smiled. He watched her fetch a tub of popcorn. She swayed on her feet.

"I am going to eat this while you ride a dragon—"

"Come here." Rafel pulled her in with a laugh. He gave the top of her head a swift kiss and turned, walking for the war caverns that ran under the colosseum where he was to meet and ride out with his dragon. Corazón continued forward towards the rotund seats of the stadium. The open sky above was an endless chirpy blue. The air was a bit moist with the scent of sea salt.

The morning was ambient and perfect.

Perfect for dragons to soar.

Cora found her group already in their seats between rows at the middle level. Since they didn't need to seat according to factions for this 3rd round tournament, the tiers of the amphitheater was a rainbow sprawl. Blues and golds, and reds and black, all mixing in with their little cheerleading flags.

Ravenna greeted and waved her in.

"Oh hello. Come on love. We saved you a seat. Get in. Get in. Get in!

It's about to start."

Cora giggled at Ravenna's giddiness and joined her friends in their perch at the middle level of the vast rotunda. Under their avantine seats in the caverns, Rafel was led by a yellow-robed dragonkeeper to the separate lair of his beast. She was a woman. He admired the cleft of her shawl into long legs under gay amber eyes.

With a smile and jiggle of generous frontal assets, the female dragonkeeper stopped in a mighty stone cave and sent forth her hand. "Your dragon, master Blüdthïrste."

"Thank you."

Rafel stepped forward. The creature was colossal, shrouded in mist and shadows emanating from the underground lair. It was like a sleeping hill. Mute. But deadly. Larger than life.

Rafel called in the dark.

"Zarathustra?"

A low rumbling began in the rolling fog. The flame on the torch the dragonkeeper held went off. The sleeping hill moved. Bat-like wings unfurled, touching the opposite walls of the lair 80ft across. The great dragon came into the light. She was red.

Red like the jewel of a damask gem. Her ruby scales glinted in the cold cavern.

Rafel had guessed she was female from the shoot of her rump, but he was made certain of it when she put forward her proud muzzle. Each horn on her head was taller than he.

"You may call me Zara, young demon. It is nice to meet you."

She extended her a claw of her right forelimb to nudge Rafel's shoulder—the equivalent of a handshake by dragon standards. He gripped the obsidian talon with a shaky laugh. Zara was really pretty—again, by dragon standards. Her snout had the upturn of royalty.

"Are you going to say something, red one?" Zara mumbled.

Rafel scratched his head. "Eh. You can talk? You're ascended. A Divine level. Who's your master?

O-or mistress?"

Zara gave him a small smile. The silver trumpets blew up in the Colosseum, and Zarathustra walked past Rafel, starting for the sector from which they would take flight and leaving him to follow. Rafel had to spike his steps to meet hers. The blessed-chested dragonkeeper followed behind them. Zara began talking on the way.

"Yes, I am all those things you mentioned, red one. But to answer your question, I have no Sire to speak off. You're probably wondering why an evolved dragon is unbonded. It's really a matter of the heart, just like the way I chose you for this tournament. I could have picked anyone here, red one. But something in your nature calls to me, and it's not because you're a demon."

Rafel raised his head to meet her slitted gold eyes. He chuckled. "I feel the same way. And it's not because you're a sexy red dragon either."

Zara gave a low laugh.

"You are quite handsome too, red one."

Behind them, the dragonkeeper narrowed her eyes at the weird conversation.

Rafel said, "why do you keep calling me that, red one?"

"You're red haired, are you not?"

Rafel shared a smile with the ruby dragon. The dragonkeeper cleared her throat behind. "We're here." Anything to curb the awkward path this conversation was taking. "Meet the other riders." She gestured to the other students in their own flying leathers. Three competitors wearing the colors of their Arcs. And beside them were dragons of the same order.

All the dragonkeeper left the four riders to the few seconds remaining before they were announced.

Rafel quickly worked the room.

He spotted Bolta almost immediately, with her blue lightning dragon: Coronis. Coronis too was female. And the largest of the bunch. With Trisha Turnbull, Griffin Arc's dragonrider was the sleek gold menace, Bellerophon. He looked on the others like they were beneath him, and Rafel was amazed at how the beast and its rider could share so much in common.

The only black dragon in sight belonged to Salome Smallbone, the rider for [Raven Arc]. Obviously.

Shredder was male. And its own spikes rancoured up its back like a fleshy mohawk. The scales were dark as plutonic glass cooled after a mountain's lava eruption. Shredder was just about half the size of Coronis. But Rafel knew he was the deadliest. It was impossibly sickly thin for a dragon.

But it wasn't sick.

Shredder looked out with purple rings for eyes. It stared sinisterly at Bellerophon. Again, the dragon and its rider, Salome seemed to share the same glare for Trisha and hers. Instantly, Rafel was eager to get to the skies and see them battle it out. No amount of time among mortals had quenched his primordial thirst for blood.

[Dragon Riding], the third round tournament only ended when only one beast remained in the skies.

Outside, Rafel heard the announcer ramp up the crowd:

"OI! ARE WE READY, CORYNTHIA?!"

"YAHHH!!!" The Colosseum broke in a thousand voices.

"I said, CORYNTHIA. . .ARE WE READY?!"

Once again, clapping and cheering shook the walls of the arena. Inside the caverns, Trisha cemented with bright eyes. "Fuck yeah we're ready."

The announcer made a raise of hands. The bugle sounded. "Then let's welcome together our dragonriders!"