Page 145 of The Last Dragon

“There’s a far greater force, Kazelius,”he warns. “A force neither man nor dragon can withstand. The man you call General Grogol… He will ignite a chain reaction that could destroy us all.”

I freeze. How could he know about Grogol? Was this the beast that I felt watching me? Was he the one who whispered to me?

A fire ignites in my throat—burning—as the scattered images from before faintly flicker to life again—smoke rising from razed villages, dragons fleeing through ash-dark skies.

A war.

Erased.

A war that isn’t taught anywhere. Those people, those villagers, were not fighting against dragons—they were fighting with each other.A force, he said, greater than anything we’veever faced before. Why was this part of our history so easily erased? Why have dragons and humans fought side by side? And against what?

I meet the beast’s stare again. “If I help you,” I say, every word carefully weighed. “Will you help me?”

The dragon unfurls its wings slowly, their surface shimmering like fractured diamonds, catching every stray gleam of light and scattering it across the cave walls. Pale white membranes ripple like frozen mist, edges sharp. It’s like the beast is carved from icy crystal.

“With my life,” he roars, and a chill creeps under my skin.

I stare at the beast as a surge of power builds in my chest. It grows slowly, and my crystalized hand begins to glint. Nails like dragon claws, knuckles and wrists scaled like the dragon’s. It feels different than the venom, yet the same.

I look up at him, watching his eyes, his slits dilating as he stares at me.

Now, I think to myself.

Now I can save Nida, and burn the Third down.

“What are you called?” I ask the beast, carefully placing my hand on his snout again. It puffs out air through his nostrils, and a deep voice sounds in my head.

“Msai’chem.”