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- fantasy◐ Mature
The Last Dragon Is a Coward
A boy's frozen fingers slipped on the icy rock, and he nearly fell off the mountain. He caught himself and kept climbing. At the top he crawled into a black cave that smelled of old smoke. Deep inside, one huge yellow eye slid open. "Go away, child," the dragon rumbled. "Please," the boy gasped. "The Ashen Legion is coming. They burn my village at sunrise. You're the last dragon. You have to fight them." The eye narrowed. "I don't fight. Not anymore."
5 writers - fantasy◐ Teen
Saltwing
The culling-pens stink of salt and rust. In the smallest pool, a sea-dragon hatchling shivers behind the bars, no bigger than Nerai herself. Its wings are dull gray, and one fin is notched from birth. The breed-masters have chalked a white cross on its side: runt, unfit, to be drowned at dawn. Nerai grips the cold bars. She has until sunrise.
5 writers - fantasyEveryone
The Dragon Who Hoarded Names
People called her Girl, or Nobody, or Hush, because she had never made a sound and no one had ever given her a real name. The night the snow fell purple over the peaks, she packed a crust of bread and started climbing. Under the mountain lived the dragon Vesper, who did not hoard gold. She hoarded names, stacked in the dark like cold little coins. The girl wanted just one. Her own.
5 writers - fantasy◐ Teen
The Last Clutch of Emberfall
Nobody asked Wren if he wanted the job. The soldiers just pushed the kingdom's last dragon egg into his arms and told him to walk. The queen's order sat folded in his pocket: deliver it to the Cinder Tower, sealed and whole. So down the mountain road he went, the cold egg against his chest. Then, near a sharp bend in the trail, the shell started to warm. It shook in his hands. With a soft, wet snap, a crack split across it.
5 writers