He pressed the point of the claw against the soft, pale scales of his other forearm, right a the knuckle. He flinched at the initial sting. Then, clenching his jaw so hard it ached, he dragged the point downwards.
A thin, bright red line appeared in the wake of his claw. The pain was sharp, clean, and horribly real. It wasn't a deep cut, but it was enough. Enough to bleed. Enough to maybe even scar. He watched as a single drop of his own blood welled up and trickled down his arm, a startling crimson against his tan scales. Then, he went down his shoulders, the blood dripping from every area of the red line. Then to his chest. Then to his underbelly.
"Good," Queen Ephedra said, her voice laced with a satisfaction as she watched red beads roll. "Pain is a potent reminder of duty. A promise like this is not so easily forgotten as one spoken."
King Sotol nodded, his gaze unwavering. "You have sealed your oath in blood. You are truly one of us now. Your mother will be your direct commander. You will follow her orders without question. Fail her, and you fail us. Fail us," he let the words hang in the air, "and you will wish for a pain as simple as that small cut."
Vireo lowered his head, a chilling sense of finality washing over him. The sting was a burning new reality. He had just sworn his life and spilled his blood for a cause he never agreed with.
"Dismissed," the King said, his voice a final, rumbling thunder.
Vireo bowed again, his body moving stiffly. He followed his mother out of the throne room, the heavy golden doors closing behind them, sealing the moment in time. The long walk back through the chilly, grand corridors was silent. Vireo was acutely aware of the thin, wet line of blood seeping into his scales, the continuous, stinging pain a horrifying tattoo of his new reality.
The flight home was an agony of a different sort. The wind, which usually felt cool and freeing, now bit at his fresh wound, making him flinch with every strong gust. He flew slightly behind his mother, his mind filled with rage.
This is sick. This is all completely, utterly sick. They sat there on their shiny thrones and ordered me to cut myself, and my own mother just watched. The Glow of the Sun… what a joke. For some stupid legend that will get thousands of dragons killed. So King Sotol can have a bigger crown? So Queen Ephedra can have another nation to sneer at? It's so stupid! They'll ruin everything!
And now I'm part of it. A branded member. What am I going to tell Peyote? Or Apex? The study break is over, we're supposed to be back to our normal routines. I can't just disappear for a whole day and say 'my mom grounded me again.' They wouldn't buy it, not after the island. I'll have to make something up... something believable. That my mother needed help with a long, boring chore, maybe taking inventory at a distant family storeroom. It's weak. So weak. But it's all I have.
When they landed, Xylia finally spoke, her voice devoid of any warmth. "Clean your wound. We leave at dawn. The others will be waiting." She disappeared into the house without a backward glance.
The next morning, Vireo woke before the sun, the stinging line on his body the first thing he felt. It was a constant, angry reminder of his oath. He met Xylia at the front of the house. She was already alert, her blue eyes sharp and focused. She didn't acknowledge his injury, with not even the slightest concern from her.
They flew in silence towards a quiet, unassuming part of the city. They landed before a small, windowless building made of dark, rough, squeezed between two larger warehouses. It was the kind of place a dragon would walk past a hundred times and never care.
Xylia pushed open the heavy wooden door. The air inside was cool and smelled of dust and old stone. A handful of dragons stood around a large, circular stone table in the center of the room. An older dragon with scales the color of dried mud and a long, jagged scar across his snout. Another was a lean female dragon with pale, almost white scales, with grey eyes.
"Vireo," Xylia announced to the room. "He joins us today."
The scarred dragon grunted in acknowledgement. The pale female just gave him a cold look.
On the stone table sat a polished bronze plate. Set into the plate were three gems, each about the size of a dragon's eye. They were dull and milky white, something you would see at a trinket shop like Maw's.
"Pay attention," the pale female dragon said. "These are sensors." She tapped one of the milky gems with a long claw. "They are enchanted. Normally, they are dormant. But in the presence of supernatural power—like that of the sand-controllers, or… other, older energies—they glow." She fixed her gaze on Vireo. "They will be our first sign that we are close to a Monolith's power signature. They are our most important tool."
Vireo stared at the dull gems, his blood running cold. Xylia stepped forward, placing a map on the table. It was a crude drawing of the island. "We believe the monoliths are somewhere around the western part of the island. That's where the gems were previously glowing. Though for some reason, they stopped."
He was trapped. This was going to be his first official act as a member of the Glow of the Sun. Oh, gods, he thought. I can't believe I'm really doing this. It all felt surreal to him.
"We leave in five minutes," the scarred dragon rumbled. "Get what you need. No excess weight."
Vireo watched as the others efficiently gathered small, items—coils of rope, sharpening stones, waterskins. He felt useless, having brought nothing. Xylia pushed a waterskin towards him with her claw. "Drink before we go," was all she said. He drank, the cool water doing little to calm him.
They left the building and launched themselves from the rocky coast. The flight was completely different from the chaotic, excited trip with his friends. This was definitely much more serious. The adult dragons flew with an easy, powerful grace that made Vireo's own flight feel clumsy and slow. He had to push himself, his already sore muscles screaming in protest, just to keep up. The stinging cut on his body throbbed with every wingbeat, it was miserable.
They flew over the open ocean, the sun climbing higher, glinting off the blue waves. Vireo's mind raced, trying to formulate a plan. He could tell them he saw something when he didn't. Somewhere dense and confusing, full of dangerous creatures that could slow them down, distract them. It was a risky idea. They had the gems. If they got too close to the real site, the stones would glow, and his lie would be exposed.
About an hour into the flight, the pale female dragon suddenly held up an arm, a sharp, silent signal. "Up," she commanded, her voice cutting through the wind. "Now."
Without question, the dragons angled their wings sharply, ascending in a powerful burst of speed. Vireo, caught off guard, struggled to follow, his tired wings straining. "What? Why?" he gasped.
"Below," the scarred dragon grunted, pointing a claw downwards.
Vireo looked down, his eyes scanning the waves. At first, he saw nothing. Then, he saw it. A shadow. A vast, impossibly huge shadow moving beneath the surface. It was long and serpentine, bigger than any whale, bigger than any ship he had ever seen. Dark, powerful fins propelled it through the water with terrifying speed. He could just barely make out a colossal head and a jaw that looked like it could swallow their entire group whole without slowing down. If no one had warned him, he would have flown right over it, completely oblivious. A cold sweat broke out on his scales. Relief, sharp and sudden, washed over him, making his legs feel weak.
They watched from a safe altitude as the massive sea monster passed beneath them and continued on its way. "That would have been a quick end to the mission," the pale female dragon remarked dryly, as if commenting on the weather. She looked at Vireo. "Keep your eyes open, boy. The ocean is much more dangerous than you think."
Shit. What if that happened when the six of us were flying?
The rest of the flight was tense. Vireo found himself scanning the water below now paranoid. Finally, the hazy green smudge of the island appeared on the horizon.