THE BRIDE OF FLAMES

THE FIRE THAT DEVOURED THE STAR

Far away, in the Kingdom of Dravenour.

A night filled with tranquility arrived, broken only by the faint cries and the crackling of a single kerosene lamp, which cast a dim, flickering light on the old stones of the ancient house that made of stone.

The gentle sigh of the wind passed thru broken glasses and rustling dead leaves, carrying the distant chirping of crickets and the occasional groan of old wood. Here, a dirty rat emerged from the shadows of a hidden hole, its tangled fur dull under the gleaming light, its claws tapping softly on the stones as it moved with nervous haste.

The dirty rat suddenly stopped. Ears perked up toward a faint clatter of metal, along with stones. The sound came from deeper in the darkness, and tension spread thru the air.

The rat raised its snout, breathing deeply, then it caught the unfamiliar scent, warm and strangely alluring, like a whisper from an unseen source carried on the wind.

It was as if a low, eerie hum was emanating from beneath the very silence, a subtle shift in the atmosphere, as if the night was breathing, and awaiting....

Without warning, a soft, distant bell rang, short and ghostly, terrifying. The rat looked into the darkness, where something unseen was suddenly moving just beyond the reach of the light.

Any creature with a trace of instinct would have fled.

But fate had other plans.

Instead of escaping to safety, the rat ensnared in the razor-sharp talons of an awe-inspiring Red dragon, a sight that no rat could ever have imagined encountering. This magnificent beast, with its shimmering scales and regal presence, represented the pinnacle of what a rat might dream of.

The radiant Red dragon spent the night soaring over the boroughs of the shuttered place. The putrid stench of black death invaded his nostrils as he swooped down and grabbed the wriggling rat in his claws, tossing it in his mouth without chewing, and swallowing the little thing whole.

One final act of goodwill. The Red Dragon wasn’t sure of his end, but he felt it closing in on his frail body. He doubted he would even have the strength to fly after this eve.

As if on cue, the surrounding atmosphere changed, and he felt the presence of his dark counterpart, like a fog that descended upon his beloved kingdom. He sucked in a deep breath through his large scaly nostrils, wishing to savor this moment for all of eternity. There was no doubt he would miss the sights and smells of Earth.

As darkness fell, a sleek, horned creature cloaked in black approached, its iridescent scales shimmering like the night sky.

The night was alive with embers. A drunken man stumbled down the cracked street, his shadow swaying in the dim red light. He sang with a raw, trembling voice — a song about Freedom, his words slurred but full of strange conviction.

“Freedom… for the lost and the damned… Freedom for the chained hearts…”

His voice echoed through the ruins, carried by the wind that smelled faintly of ash and iron.

From the distance, hidden among the flickering remnants of an old battlefield, the Red Dragon watched in silence. His massive form was half-shrouded in smoke, molten eyes reflecting both pity and remembrance. He understood that song, it was ancient, older than men. Once, long ago, his kin had sung the same melody before battle.

Then the air shifted.

A low vibration rolled through the ground, like thunder crawling from beneath the earth.

The Red Dragon lifted his head sharply. The sky above split with a streak of black fire. Shadows bled across the horizon.

From the darkness, the Black Dragon emerged.

Every step it took seemed to extinguish the light around it. The drunken man froze mid-song, his eyes widening as the massive creature descended, wings spreading wide enough to blot out the burning sky. He dropped his bottle, and it shattered with a hollow ring. The sound echoed once, then died.

“You still listen to their songs,”

the Black Dragon’s voice rumbled, deep and cold, like stones grinding beneath the ocean. “How pathetic.”

The Red Dragon’s claws tightened, pressing against the scorched ground.

“They sing because they still feel, brother,” he replied, his voice filled with both sorrow and defiance. “You wouldn’t understand that anymore.”

The Black Dragon circled him, his scales gleaming like polished obsidian, edges sharp enough to cut light itself. The faint fire from the ruins flickered across their bodies, red against black, flame against void.

The tension between them felt thick enough to bend the air.

“The age of feeling died with your kind,” the Black Dragon hissed. “Now there is only one survival.”

A gust of wind tore through the ruins, scattering embers like tiny stars. The drunk man fell to his knees, watching in awe, the song forgotten. His reflection wavered between the two dragons — a fragile human caught between gods.

The Red Dragon’s wings are slowly unfurled, their span crackling with heat and light. "Then let us see,” he growled, “which of us still deserves to live.”

For a brief, thunderous heartbeat, the world stood still, until the silence shattered.

The sky erupted in fire and shadow.

The first roar shattered the night.

It wasn’t just sound, it was power, a wave of force that rippled across the burning horizon. The ground cracked beneath the Red Dragon’s claws, molten veins of light snaking through the shattered stone.

The Black Dragon leapt first, his wings slicing through the air like blades of midnight. The world blurred. He moved with an unnatural grace, his body is a phantom streak of darkness.

Fire met shadow in a blast that tore through the street, sending the drunken man fly backward. He rolled behind the remains of a stone wall, shielding his face as dust and light devoured the air.

“You’ve grown a slow, old one!”

The Black Dragon’s voice echoed through the smoke, mocking, sharp.

The Red Dragon emerged through the haze, his body steaming, eyes glowing like molten gold.

“And you’ve grown cruel,” he replied, his tone heavy with grief. “You’ve forgotten what you were born to protect.”

There was a time, many years ago, when the Red Dragon would have had the strength to take on this adversary, but those days were long gone. Age and illness had stripped him of the power he once wielded.

Then, the world seemed to be slow.

The black dragon reared back, its wings spreading wide enough to blot out the moon. A thunderous roar split the night, sending a shockwave that shattered all things nearby.

In a surreal moment, The Red Dragon watched the beast dive, its enormous shadow streaking over the trembling place—before it swooped down upon the street, targeting a staggering drunk man. He felt the urge to fight back. It was his duty, after all. But deep down, he knew the beast would overpower him before he could even move. So, he stood there, helpless, as the dark creature clamped its massive jaws around the man, then it crushed his upper body into a gruesome mess.

“Don’t do this! ”

The Red dragon let out a mournful cry, a single tear escaping from the creases of his aged eye as he observed the crimson droplets of the fallen man's blood trickle down the chin of his malevolent counterpart.

The darker dragon, obsidian-scaled, with eyes like dying stars, tilted his massive head and sneered, blood staining his jagged teeth.

Dark Dragon (snarling): “Still soft, I see. Even after all these years.”

Red Dragon (voice trembling, ancient, and deep): "He was only a boy… He believed in peace.”

Dark Dragon: "Then he died a fool’s death.”

Then the Dark dragon stepped forward, the ground scorching beneath his claws.

“You think mercy will save this world, brother? It never has. It never will.”

Red Dragon (low, mournful): "We were not made to destroy it. We were made to guard it.”

The Dark Dragon laughed, a sound like bone snapping under pressure. "Guardians? Is that what you still call us? We were gods once; now you beg scraps from dying kings.”

Dark Dragon glanced at the fallen man, the young warrior who had dared stand between them, and scoffed.

Dark Dragon (coldly): "This world doesn’t need guardians. It needs cleansing.”

The Red dragon stepped forward, wings unfurling with solemn grace.

Red Dragon (firm now): "Then it will begin with you.”

His dark counterpart let out a low chuckle before carelessly dropping what remained of the young man’s body onto the ground, the sickening squelch echoing as it struck the cobblestones. The gruesome sight would turn anyone's stomach, even that of the pure-hearted dragon, who found himself powerless to stop the mindless c*****e.

The angry black beast flew towards him, eyes flashing crimson with hatred.

“Why must you take an innocent life?” the Red Dragon pleaded, his voice heavy with sorrow.

But his enemy gave no answer.

Instead of answering, the Dark dragon opened his jaws wide, and a blast of searing fire erupted forth, roaring across the night sky.

Too old. Too weary. Too broken to move. The Red dragon made no attempt to flee. He closed his eyes, accepting the inevitable as the flames consumed him , from horn to tail, every inch of his once, glorious form swallowed by fire. His body fell from the sky like a dying star, crashing to the cobblestones below with devastating force. The impact doused much of the fire, but could not erase the horror of it.

Smoke rose. Ash danced in the wind. And the silence that followed felt like mourning.