Stroke the Flame

36

Then it appeared. Through the black smoke, the beast rose up on his giant, blood red wings. Sark, the Crimson Dragon. The monster who had haunted my nightmares for much of my life.

The others tensed, but there was nowhere we could run—we were out in the open, too far from anywhere we could hide. If we had to fight Sark with our weapons and our magic, would we even stand a chance?

But Sark didn’t even glance our way. With a great flap of wings that sent the smoke billowing away, he cast one last breath of fire on whatever was below him before flying off toward the west, his tail whipping behind him. Within seconds, he was only a dark speck in the sky, and then he was gone.

Reven suddenly kicked his horse into action and charged us forward, toward the smoke. I was torn between telling him