Revenge of the Overlords (eBook)

A Blood of the Dragons Tale

Kevin Potter (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2018 | 1. Auflage
532 Seiten
Kevin Potter (Verlag)
978-0-00-006113-3 (ISBN)

Infos

In a conflict of colossal proportions, two dragons fight to find a love that could ignite the very heavens...

  

Malyys, a fierce garnet dragon forged in the fires of war, has known only the savage brutality of a world consumed by power and betrayal. Yet for the first time in her life, after being rescued from the clutches of unspeakable terror, she struggles to learn to trust and to love once more. Thrust by circumstance into the struggle to unite in the cause of peace, she must find a way to overcome her darker impulses born of intense trauma.

Haunted by the devastating loss of her beloved brother, Malyys must confront the darkest shadows of her past, including the terrifying spectre of her cruel tormentor. As she seeks justice for those she holds most dear, she unexpectedly encounters a dragon from her past whose power rivals the very stars and whose smoldering gaze sparks a desire in her heart she never thought possible.

As the flames of passion ignite, the horizon darkens with conflict and dragons turn on one another. But in this war, no dragon is safe. Will Malyys embrace a future where love and hope can bloom amidst the ashes? Can she find a way to navigate the treacherous alliances, forge the unbreakable bonds, and find the indomitable strength that has lain dormant within her all along?

 

Are you ready to dive into a world of thrilling adventure, epic battles, and a love that burns brighter than a thousand suns? Revenge of the Overlords will leave you breathless and trembling with each turn of the page! Download your copy today to be swept away by this soaring tale of heart-wrenching loss, redemption, and the indomitable power of love to transform even the most fractured of souls. Don't miss this tantalizing adventure-your destiny awaits!

Textauszug

CHAPTER ONE

“Brother!” Balhalumuut gasped as he jerked awake from the terrible nightmare. His breath came in heavy wheezes, his heart thundered behind his eyes.

For a long while he lay where he was, unmoving, the shock of what he’d seen overwhelming him.

The platinum wyrm could not have said how much time had passed before he moved again. Before his mind began working in a productive manner again. It felt to his befuddled mind as though an age had passed.

But at last, a sliver of coherence entered his mind in the form of an argument against what he’d seen. It had to be only a dream.

He gave a violent shake of his head in an effort to clear it. The dream couldn’t mean anything. The plan was to win all of the great dragons to their side before holding such a Council, so surely such a thing could never came to pass. With all the great dragons present, there wouldn’t be any dragons left with the arcane power to do such a thing, surely.

Except...

The nightmare had answered that already.

It answered it with a power he had never heard of, but what did that really mean? Was it possible that such a power could actually exist? How would one go about tapping into the power housed in another wyrm’s pet without their knowledge?

But Graavvyynaustaiur was dead. He had died to save their sire and protect a garnet female— which, of course, was exactly the sort of foolishness he would expect of his brother —close to a dozen years ago, when he and sire had gone to that community of metallic dragons across the Strait from Balhamuut’s island home.

He had heard the stories of what Chhry’stuulliound, the pyrite leader of the metallics his sire and brother, Ryujin rest his soul, had made contact with a dozen or so years ago. But what he’d seen in the dream was not that power. This had been a single ritual with no fore-planning that stole arcane energy.

It was a far more devastating thing, if it was a real power that actually existed.

He huffed a sigh. Who was he kidding? He lived in a world where the very arcane essence of a wyrm could be stolen and re-appropriated in whatever way one wished. What was unthinkable was the idea that such a power might not actually be possible.

He breathed a deep sigh of frustration. Whether the power was possible was irrelevant. The single, unalterable fact was no matter how much he might wish it otherwise, his brother was dead. He had gone to visit the tomb where he had been perfectly preserved. No power on Earth could revive the dead, every hatchling knew that.

Therefore, his dream had to be just that. A dream. His dreams had never been prophetic before, after all.

But it wasn’t, said a deep, feminine voice in the back of his mind.

He growled his irritation. “Just when I thought the lot of you were gone forever.”

That is only wishful thinking, my son. We are part of you now, and you cannot change that.

He breathed another deep sigh. “At least you’ve figured out who’s in charge.”

She breathed a musical chuckle. Yes, my son. It took some doing, but all those angry souls have finally accepted my rule over them. Only you remain.

He scoffed, though a breath of fear touched his nerves. “Your rule,” he said. "I think you might be a little confused about your situation, Dam.”

She laughed again, though this time it carried a darker undertone. Is that so? And just what is my situation, my son?

He struggled not to clench his teeth in annoyance. Was he truly standing in his lair arguing with himself? Her soul was now little more than an extension of his own, after all. Was she even real, or was this all just a figment of imagination created by his guilt?

He moved toward the exit. He didn’t have time for this. While most of the unpleasantness his uncle had wrought was now settled, he still had much work to do here.

I’m talking to you, Balhalumuut!

He froze. She’d always been able to stop him in his tracks with that tone. How did she do it?

“What do you want from me, Dam?” he asked stiffly.

He could almost hear her grinding her teeth at him. What I want, she said in a voice tight with forced control and softness, is for you to answer my question.

Balhalumuut sat back on his haunches and breathed a sharp, frustrated sigh. “What question?”

What exactly is my situation?

“How do I know you’re even real? Maybe you’re just a figment of my fevered mind.”

Dauria cackled with glee. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Listen, my son. The battle between the multitude of consciousnesses residing in your soul is very real. I’m certain your uncle never told you, he himself was very good at keeping them quiet— not that it takes very much when they are acquired one at a time. In fact, most wyrms aren’t even aware of them until there are dozens. You see, it takes a lot of us to manifest in any obvious and recognizable way.

Balhalumuut tried to take her words seriously. He tried to make it make sense in his mind. But it seemed so far fetched. If this was true, how could he have had no inkling of it before? Not only had he known dozens of wyrms in the last decade or so who had, at one point or another, used the power almost daily. None of which had ever suggested anything like this. But also, it wasn’t as though stealing his uncle’s multitudinous essence had been his first time.

Knowing how it would affect him, that twisted wyrm had made regular essence feedings a part of his torture during the first year of his captivity. He still hadn’t regained all his memories from that time, but he strongly suspected the continued Essence Thefts were a major factor— if not the entirety —of the cause of his catatonia.

A catatonia which, conveniently enough, had led to his reunion with his brother and the downfall of their uncle. And Graavvyynaustaiur’s death, he thought with a twinge of melancholy. Perhaps that, too, is my fault.

But for all the times he had performed the ritual during that year, he had never had even the slightest inkling that anything remained of the consciousness of his victims.

He shook his head in frustration. Either the madness of having absorbed so many essences at once was still with him, or it really was Dam talking to him, she was telling the truth, and he’d never been mad.

“Is there anything you can do to prove what you’re saying is true?” he asked.

Hmmm, she rumbled, the sound disconcertingly similar to the purring hum in the back of her throat that she’d used to soothe him to sleep as a wyrmling. Proof. Well, incontrovertible proof is quite hard to come by. I expect you’d want information. Information you couldn’t possibly know. But then, how will you verify that what I’m saying is true?

Balhalumuut couldn’t help feeling as though he was being patronized. Clearly, Dam knew the obvious answer just as he did. Just as they both clearly knew that it was precisely the last thing he wanted to do.

He and Sire had not spoken since shortly after Graavvyynaustaiur’s death. Owing largely to his distinct impression that he’d become an unwelcome reminder of his younger brother.

He sighed. “You know as well as I do where this is going.”

She gave a surprisingly accurate imitation of a sigh. I know, my son. And I’m sorry to be the impetus for an act that will cause pain to either of you. But if that is the only way you will trust me then what must be must be.

Balhalumuut only just stopped himself grinding his teeth. “Okay, we’ll deal with that in a moment. Let us say, for the sake of argument, that I believe you. Why would you say that it wasn’t just a dream?”

He had the oddest sensation. Dauria didn’t make a sound, but he felt her smile at him. The same way your uncle knew where to find you on that beach. The same way he knew your sire and I had found him. The same way he always knew everything before anyone else. All our lives.

“No,” Bal breathed. “It can’t be.”

She smiled again. Your intellect does you credit, my son. I assure that it can be and it is. Even I never guessed it, but all this time your uncle has possessed the gift of prophecy. And now that you’ve absorbed his essence, so do you.

“B-but... how can that be? Prophecy was supposed to have been lost before the Long Sleep even began.”

Dauria gave a mental shrug that he felt rather than saw. I can only surmise that either he delved into secrets long forgotten, at a very young age, or prophecy was not nearly as lost as we thought it was.

Balhalumuut cleared his throat nervously. “Okay, disregarding that question for a moment, how can you be so certain that this dream was in truth a prophecy?”

Again, the sensation of a smile that simultaneously warmed his blood and chilled his bones. Tell me, my son, how often do you remember what you dream of late?

He opened his mouth to reply, then stopped as he thought about it. Did it matter? She had asked, so he supposed it must. But how? What difference would it make?

“Not often,” he said cautiously.

The ones you forget, are they vivid?

“No,” he said slowly. “In those, I always know I’m dreaming. It’s almost like watching events through a haze of murky water.”

An apt description, she said. And the dreams you remember, what are they like?

He shivered and his scaled clicked softly. “If you’re inside my head, don’t you know this already?”

Humor me.

He sighed. “The dreams I...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 26.5.2018
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• ISBN-10: 0-00-006113-1 / 0000061131
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-006113-3 / 9780000061133