Claimed By The Last Kind

Chapter One: The Last of His Kind Drake’s POV Deep within the heart of the mountain, where the sky never touched and the air was thick with the scent of ancient stone, I lay in silence. My lair was vast, carved over centuries by fire and claw, a place of solitude for a being that no longer belonged to this world. The glow of molten lava pulsed beneath the cracks of the cavern floor, casting flickering shadows on the towering walls. I was the last of my kind. Once, dragons soared freely across the skies, feared yet revered. Kingdoms trembled at the sound of our wings, and the earth itself bowed beneath our might. But now… now I was alone. My brethren were gone—hunted, slaughtered, betrayed. The humans called it victory. I called it g******e. I had spent years hidden away, watching from the darkness as the world continued without us. Time had worn away the fear of dragons, turning our existence into mere myths told to children at bedtime. But myths had a way of resurfacing, of clawing their way back into reality. And I was still here. I lay still, eyes closed, listening to the faint echoes of the outside world. The heartbeat of the land, the whispers of the wind. My senses stretched far beyond these stone walls, picking up the distant hum of life beyond the mountains. And then—voices. Not the usual murmurs of animals or the shifting of the earth. No, this was different. Human voices, loud and clear, carried on the wind like a curse. I opened my eyes, a deep, golden glow piercing through the darkness. The Hunt of the Kingdom of Kongil Deep below, at the foot of the mountain, a band of men stood under the dancing flame of torches. I noticed the banners they carried—the mark of Kongil, a kingdom renowned for its ambition and greed. My lips curled back into a silent snarl. I listened. "His word is law," said one man. His voice was commanding, laced with conceit. "The last dragon lies outside—Drake, the beast of the peaks. He who slays him will be rewarded without equal." Laughter and whispers of enthusiasm followed. "He's got to be old by now," another man sneered. "Weak. Vulnerable." We should strike at dawn," said a third. "Dragons sleep, don't they? If we find his lair, we can slay him before he stirs." My claws scraped on the stone floor below me. Weak? Vulnerable? I was not. I rose to stand, slowly, my vast bulk casting shadows upon the walls of the caves. My tail twisted and coiled, its end booming upon the earth like thunder. A warm fury brewed in my heart, coursing through my veins like liquid lava. Fools. They deemed me a creature to be stalked like a beast among rabble? Dared to assume me a person who had lived as centuries ebbed and who should fall before such as these with simple iron and arrogance? I roared low in my throat, the boom of it thundered through my chest and resounded off through the lair, echoing like lightning. My wings spread, a blast of wind tearing across the cavern, kicking up embers and dust. The Fury of a Dragon The stone beneath me shook. Sweat dripped down my face. Heat radiated from my flesh, the very air compressing under the accumulation of my rage. Dragons did not have patience for offenses. Dragons did not forget. With a speed of motion, I struck. My tail lashed out, thudding against the wall of the cavern. A sickening c***k resounded through the air as a section of the stone gave way, splintering into the lava below. The hot rock spat and hissed, pulsing forth streams of burning sparks into the air. My wings exploded open, the span of my wings casting shadow across the entire lair. With a forceful single stroke, I rocketed upwards, my form hashing through the cavern as the outrage of my temper fueled my passage. I needed to remind them. Remind them how to enrage a dragon. I fell, landing on a great boulder in the entrance to the cavern. My claws sank into the stone, cleaving it beneath me. The cold night air hit me, sharp and biting on my warm skin. Below, the humans continued to talk, unaware of the storm they had raised. Fools. I took a deep breath, the flames roiling within me, curling up from the bottom of my stomach. My throat ached, the fire desperate to escape. But I didn't let them out. Not yet. No, I wanted them to be scared first. I unleashed a roar that sent a tremble through the calmness of night. It surged over the valley like a tide, causing the very ground where they stood to shake. Their torches fluttered trembling in their grips, their fire flinching away from the blast of my anger. Chaos ensued. The men sprinted in chaotic manner, some throwing down their blades, others into each other trying to withdraw. One dropped onto his knees, his ghastly pale complexion a work to look upon. Yes. They remembered. But this was only the beginning. I would not let them forget. Not now. Not ever. They desired the last dragon? I would teach them to fear.