Path of The Dragon Mage (Nomad) 77. Cataclysm (Patreon)

Rage and humiliation powered Daffodil's flight up north to the Capitol city. As he followed the rough mountain chain that bordered this fractured kingdom, he thought of nothing but Zriah.

He had loved her with the simple, pure love of a hatchling. His heart still ached for her, and he had tried to piece it back together with the princess who had carried her look. But he should have known better. There was no bringing his Zriah back.

And there was cure for his aching heart other than to destroy those who had murdered her.

His plan had been in long in coming. For years he had lost himself in growing his ratkin army. Feeding on their essences had strengthened portions his own magic. Not as much as it would have with Zriah by his side, but he had thought he had done well.

As he flew, he received notifications of the Rat Queens falling, one by one. He grit his teeth and wavered for a moment -- but no. He would not go back. His plans both for the palace here and the line of royals in the so-called demon kingdom were close to coming to fruition.

The destruction of Meadow City was meant to be a testing ground for his ratkin swarm. That test had failed. He should have known it was best to hold destiny in his own claws.

Daffodil continued on, flying straight on through the rest of that night and into the next day. He triggered a once a sunrise ability to burn mana into stamina... and he had a deep pool of mana to draw from.

When he came upon the Capitol City, the dragon descended on the palace like a vision of wrath.

He activated his spells, gained by decades of eating ratkin bonding essences. Abruptly, every green growing thing within several blocks of the palace were under his control.

Roses and decorative flowers within the palace twisted and emitted poisonous gas. Forgotten seeds grew and melded into blood-sucking thorny vines. The very grass and rushes in bedsheets turned into nettles which spat into their human victims.

Daffodil spun in tight circles around the palace, roaring his defiance, roaring Zriah's name. He had fled this place as a hatchling. Now he was strong. Now he would make them pay.

Nobles and those who shared Zriah's blood scurried around the palace like ants fleeing a kicked anthill.

Those who survived the initial attack dared to fight back.

The air whipped around him in random gusts. There must have been several high level elemental talents in the ranks. Some of the gusts carried sharp blades of ice or wind condensed into knives.

Daffodil let out a roaring cackle. All fell against his toughened scales without leaving a scratch.

"Is that all you have?" he screeched, voice lost to the winds themselves. "For Zriah!"

Then with an effort of will and a cost of mana he directed the plants to grow inward. The roots and subtle greenery wormed their way into the palace itself -- to corrupt the foundation and break the very stone walls around those who had wronged him.

The ants were stirred into a greater frenzy. Those with Earth Talent tore soil from around the plants, leaving them to wither and die. Bits of the masonry which had been dislodged was flung upward, striking Daffodil hard.

Then those with the fire talent took the field. The stone melted in air becoming red hot. It burned as it splattered against his scales.

Daffodil roared again. This time in pain.

The resistance became organized as stronger opponents took the field. Suddenly air pressure around his great body failed. Daffodil flailed his great span of wings and had to work very hard to stay aloft. As he fought, he was pelted by red hot missiles.

Meanwhile, his connection to the plants broke hundreds at a time as nobles with water talent froze all greenery in blocks of ice or washed them off the sides of walls. Heavy mist trapped poisonous pollen and scoured it from the air.

The resistance was too coordinated. Who was in charge?

Daffodil's great head swung back and forth until he spotted two figures on the roof of the top tower.

One was a woman with a golden head of hair who looked so much like the false Zriah that she had to be the girl’s mother. The other was older, aged and stooped. His severe, but grand robes told him this was the king.

Daffodil screeched his rage and beat his wings, but one gesture from the woman and the wind held him firm. Meanwhile the burning stone attacks redoubled. With waves of his hands, the king broke off sections of his own palace to lift and bash it against Daffodil's hide.

He felt the wind knocked out of him, and struggled to suck a new breath in. The air around his head was thinning…

No. NO! It could not end like this. He could not fail to bring justice to Zriah's murders again!

Frantic, half mad, a flash of light made Daffodil look down. Below him on the other end of the vast palace complex, another figure stood alone on top of a high spiral tower.

He had the look of the king and that of the boy who had hatched his sister, Charm.

And he was... waving frantically at the dragon. The bolts of fire he sent into the sky seemed to be more of a light show than actual force.

There was something about him..

Daffodil folded his wings and dropped. The motion was so fast that those with wind talent could not react quickly enough to stop him. He sucked in a pure breath of air and felt his strength return.

Daffodil landed on the rooftop just below the tower, feeling it half buckle under his great weight.

That meant little to him. he stretched his neck up until he was eye to eye with the man on top of the tower. He, too, wore rich robes.

The man dropped to his knees. "Great dragon! Why are you attacking the seat of this kingdom's power?"

Daffodil rumbled in amusement even as stone pelted him from all angles. He could not stay on the ground long, but something about this man called to him.

"I have come to take revenge on those who harmed me. I have come to win back the eggs of my imprisoned kin... and I have come to kill your king," Daffodil said.

The man raised his head to look at him. "How may I help?"

Daffodil’s eyes narrowed. Behind him, great whips of fire sizzled at his scales. It caused pain, but he had felt true soul-wrenching pain when he’d been a hatchling. This was nothing.

"Who are you?" Daffodil asked.

"I am Prince Cipherus, great dragon."

Daffodil inhaled a great gust of air. Yes, he smelled of Charm's boy and to a lesser extent, the false Zriah. They were related.

How his heart ached for Zriah... but he was wise enough to know that the pain had sent him out of control on more than one occasion.

Could his broken heart be soothed by another? Perhaps he should stop chasing the memory of Zriah and start looking somewhere else.

This prince, this man, was nothing like the girl who had given Daffodil life. He did not walk the Paths and could not form a true connection... but maybe what Daffodil needed was a change.

Would victory be that much sweeter with someone by his side?

Daffodil reached for the bonding spell he had readied for the false Zriah.

"Then, Cipherus... Give me a name."

The man did not hesitate. “Cataclysm.”

Above, a blanket of instant clouds roiled, dark gray and ominous, across the sky. Every plant within a mile withered and died.

Cataclysm roared.

Note: That's it for Book 2! Thanks for sticking with me. Next chapters for Book 3 should be up in T-minus... ten minutes from now.