Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

THE WINGS OF ZARATHUSTRA, Rafel's ruby dragon casted a vast umbra arc on the rotund arena down below. The formation of her shadow spread over the Colosseum's Populi, blocking out the roseate sun. Spools of radiance funneled through the silver clouds, and while the students of [C.A.W] in the arena cheered, Rafel looked perturbed at the two sleeping girls in the saddle with him.

"You think they'll be fine, Zara?" He asked of his dragon. No one could see his worried face this far up; the pupils of the witch academia were happily clapping away below. Zara's red wings glimmered in sunlight and her shadow on the ground cast the arena under dark spotlight.

The splotches of blood that had rained down at Shredder's beheading made the amphitheater into something of a fright. But the young Casters of the institute cared nothing for the dragon's blood dribbling down their faces and soaking into their knickers. The love of the Tournament blazed in their eyes: a warped sense of sportsmanship.

"Hail Corynthia!" They roused proudly. It was alright though. Things were seldom sane around here.

Zara turned her long neck around in a fascinating angle and pierced Rafel with her golden reptile eyes. Her large head was bigger than his entire self. She sent a glance to the girls he'd spoken about in his question: Salome and Bolta. Her reply was nothing of an attachment.

"Yes. They shall be fine. Their little hearts beat still. The Olympian is only comatose. But Shredder's rider shall require a cast over that leg. The same can't be said for their dragons though.

I hear only one dragon heart beating upon the sands beneath us. You mean well, red one. But only Coronis yet lives, the blue storm." Rafel shifted in his saddle on Zara's back with a sigh. "At least Morta spared the life threads of these two."

Zara gave a low laugh that sounded out like a seductive purr. "Oh, red one! I don't think the Fates had anything to do with those girls still being on the mortal coil. It was you who took the risk to save their lives. I'm sure they'll never forget that."

"Thank you." Rafel said aloud. Zara gave him again the equivalent of a dragon's smile and turned her head away, looking down on the celebratory ruckus going on in the majestic amphitheater. Girls were waving red flags, Rafel's riding colors. Zara said to her rider, "shall we go and claim our prize then?"

"Absolutely," replied his sultry baritone from behind.

And Zara folded her wings—making fresh sunlight splash out—and began a free fall. Rafel pulled a sleeping Bolta and Salome tighter to him in the saddle so they wouldn't fall. The friction of swift air sent tears leaking out his eyes. He and his dragon landed as one upon the sands and the jubilee trumpeted even higher. All Arcs of the academy clapped, thundering for him in a standing ovation.

Rafel didn't fail to notice that Zara carefully avoided stepping into the carcasses of the felled dragons. She did kick at Shredder's head though, before lowering her scaly neck for him to climb down. She folded her gigantic wings under her body and sat on the sands. Rafel pulled Bolta and Salome off with him, delivering them safe into the hands of the Healers who came running in.

"Careful with her leg. It's broken." He said of Salome.

Then raised his eyes to the Tournament stats on the enormous camp screen; he of course was top of the board. The other dragonriders were ranked according to the level of fight they had put up in the sky. Rafel stood as the lone dragonrider of the four factions, surrounded by glory and blitzy-eyed groupies he didn't give a fuck about. He shouldn't think that of his mates. But he did.

He had watched a girl burn out of the skies like roast chicken. If it'd been in Hel, he could stomach it, but this fucking mortal realm had spun something of a conscience within him.

'No wonder Auntie doesn't stay here for long.'

Mortals had a way of making you feel for them. Love them. Want to protect them. "Fuck." Rafel cussed under a breath.

After the results of the [Dragon Riding] tournament were added to the previous Triathlon and Athena's Hunt, [Raven Arc] came up astoundingly to second place on the leaderboard. [Phoenix Arc] remained as first. And [Pegasus Arc] dropped to a tie with [Griffin Arc]. The sum total of the Blood Faction's leading points were a titanic 74 gold and 13 silver. Zero brass.

Rafel was awarded the Epic Totem of Ghanoush by a very proud Headmistress. He pulled up his sleeves to accept the [Rune Tattoo] next to the other ink he had across his left forearm. "May the helm of Ghanoush, Overlord over Chaos magic always protect." Dr. Nicara Shetty beamed over him.

The moment the totem was placed, Rafel stepped down the high dais of the Romanesque arena, slipped under the nearest arch of shadows he could find, and vanished.

He literally disappeared.

As his bodily self disintegrated into darkness of his [Shadow-world], the last thing he could hear of the amphitheater was the sound of ten hundred witches, vampires, and werewolves calling out his name. Just as Peitho came ringing his ear with a new notification:

[Ding!]

[Hidden Quest Achieved!]

[NEWEST RANK: The Last Dragonrider.]

[Host is on the verge on ascending into Third Infernal Circle. Fulfill more quests. Bed more suitable waifus. Or unlock Hel miniverse. . .to up current levels.]

Peitho's lovely voice wisped out as Rafel exploded out a vortex of rippling shadows in a mountain. He emerged from his umbrae portal at a plateau halfway up the sky-reaching stone cliff. Stepping out from the darkness that shielded his entry, Rafel took a moment to stare into the panorama that met his eyes. The horizon was alpine and marine.

He could see the beaches of the island the academy was built on this high on the mountain.

From hundreds of feet planted on hard rock, he spotted gulls in the distance, a herd of mountain goats grazing among wet caves, and wild horses racing together in the far moors. And the sun looked just a bit more golden from this place. He was surrounded by serenity and wildland beauty; everything that had moved him to the mortal plane in the first place.

Rafel moved to the edge of the cliff and sat. His long legs dangled off of it.

He closed his amber eyes under the warm evening sun and breathed deeply. The air was smooth, smelled of a country woman baking bread for supper. Or at least that was the image that came into his head when he breathed. A country woman. Preferably older. With lush curves carved of nature.

Ample bosoms like Mother Gaia's pears. Eyes green like the gardens of Eden. Generous buttocks you could pet and love and smack—

"This is quite the view, red one."

Rafel's eyes flashed open.

He recognized Zara's voice instantly. She purred like a cat, not a mighty dragon. Still, no one interrupted his fantasies. Not even the great scarlet beast. He roared his annoyance without even turning to look at her: "What are you doing here, dragon? This is a private place."

"Is it now?"

There was that purr again.

Rafel couldn't help the swivel of his neck. And when he did look, he was gobsmacked. Awed. Be-fucking-fuddled! Zara had changed. She was a woman.

Like a real. . .woman. She had tits and hips, and by the gods they were something. His mouth fell open. The anger evaporated from his skull.

At once, Rafel forgot what he was going to say.

He gave the standing bombshell a slow perusal.

Her hair was copper-blonde, which was a striking wave against her red skin. Skin so full and thick it glistened in the sun. Her flowing hair came around to her waist, splashing her wide hips in a golden halo. Rafel loved her crimson flesh with open lust. He was always a sucker for changeling women.

She had on a lowcut gown with slits on both sides, and though the black Hellene-style satin fell in pools to the flatstone of the mountain, Rafel could see clear up her scarlet toenails and delicate feet up her fine legs to robust ripe thighs. She was all sinful curves. She filled her dress—and then spilled some.

"Zara?" He gasped.

"It is me, red one." She smiled. "I'm trying a new look."

What? He couldn't even speak. She was scorching red hot!

Zara took a seat beside him, dangling her legs off the cliff next to his. Rafel couldn't believe this was the dragon he had ridden in the tournament; felt all of this crimson flesh under him and didn't know. This voluptuous ruby blonde. Zarathustra was one hell of a fucking smasher in her human form.

She put up her hands to the tip of one of her black, crescent horns as she studied him.

"I saw you leave earlier in a haste. I figure all the flame throwing must've thrown you." Zara dropped her hand. "I vomited the first time I roasted a goat, but I was hungry and forced it down anyway."

Rafel blinked. "You swallowed it whole?"

She nodded, and they laughed together. Zara went on. "What I'm saying is that I get the feeling? Some times even demons and dragons grow a heart. In light of that, I feel like I need to come plain about something you asked me earlier. The real reason I chose you to be my rider is because.

. ." She wrung her hands in her hair, "I'm a bit of a danger whore."

Rafel looked to her to expatiate.

"Danger whore?"

"Yes. Well I-I get real excited around dangerous people. The scarier the better. I did a little dive into your history and found you're as dangerous as they come. A demon with a equal bloodthirst and vibrant sex drive? Come on!

I just had to choose you. I couldn't help it." She laughed. It was music.

Rafel was staring out into the sunset on the range. Zara continued.

"You're awful quiet for someone who had a lot to say to me earlier. Tell me, how can I make all this guilt you're feeling go away?"

Rafel did turn from the panorama at this. His warm eyes settled on hers.

"Really?"

"Yes really." She chuckled.

Rafel inched close to her face, and she saw that the warmth in his eyes wasn't warmth at all. It was sin and devious darkness. Rafel said coldly, "I'd like to drag you into that cave behind us and show you how dangerous I can be."

"I...uh...R-Red One—"

Rafel interrupted her with bass that hit harder than the rock under them.

"Call me Israfel."