The death of a dragon is not rumor.
It is an earthquake through the world. Mountains tremble, rivers shiver, skies ripple. The aura of a great beast vanishing is a wound in reality, and every dragon feels it.
This time, two such wounds opened too close together. First, the White Dragon. Then, the Dark Fire Dragon.
Seven minds stirred at once.
They were the Seven Great Dragon Tamers — the strongest in the world. Not heroes. Not saints. Just people who loved power and refused to let anyone stand above them. Each commanded a dragon beyond imagination, and through their bond, they all felt the same thing: two powerful auras gone.
Not theirs. Not any of the Seven.
Still, it was strange. White and Dark Fire were not apexes like their own beasts, but they were "tier two" sovereigns — feared, destructive, strong enough to erase kingdoms. For two to vanish so close together… unusual. Dangerous.
—
Their dragons stirred with the change.
In the skies, Tempest, a storm dragon, coiled through thunderclouds, lightning veining its wings.
In the mountains, Stonejaw, an earth colossus the size of a fortress, rumbled like a moving cliff.
Beneath the reefs, Seawing's pearl-scaled back split the ocean like a rising continent.
At the volcano's rim, Flarefang clawed the molten ground awake, fire leaking from his hide.
In the shadows of a city, Nightshade, feathered in darkness, draped her wings across rooftops.
Over deserts, Sunscale blazed, bending light until horizons shimmered.
And across storm plains, Thundermaw rolled thunder with every breath, scars webbing his massive frame.
Seven dragons. Seven tamers. Seven rulers in all but name.
—
Through their bonds, the tamers gathered in a shared vision, a circle stitched together by dragon-breath. Not of stone or wood, but a mental hall only they could enter.
Vera of the Storm Heights, tamer of Tempest, broke the silence first. Her cloak snapped in the imagined wind. "Two falls in one season. White first, now Dark Fire. Both gone."
Kael of the Obsidian School, with Stonejaw looming behind him like a living wall, frowned. "Not one of us. The leylines are clear. But the tremor is too loud to ignore."
Saphira of the Deep Reefs, feeding scraps of eel to Seawing, laughed softly. "Two second-tier sovereigns dead. And I didn't even lift a hand. How convenient."
Nyra of the Dusk City, pale fingers stroking Nightshade's shadow-feathers, tilted her head. "Convenient, yes. But too fast. Too clean. Accidents do not come in pairs."
Rashan of the Ember Marches, firelight flickering across his scarred face as Flarefang burned behind him, rolled a coal in his palm. "Accident or not, corpses leave power behind. Power draws hands. Hands start wars."
Lira of the Crystal Spire, eyes glowing with Sunscale's prisms, spoke softly. "Two voids this close. The balance shifts. Shapes are forming in the pattern."
Joren of the Thunder Plains, lounging against Thundermaw's jaw, grinned. "Whatever it is, I hope it's fun."
None of them called it tragedy. To the Seven, the death of a dragon was weather — dangerous, yes, but also opportunity.
—
Lira gestured, and a prism of light bloomed, replaying traces she had gathered.
The White Dragon's fall appeared first: a shockwave from the sky, a plunge, a death like a hammer from above.
"A miracle," Nyra murmured. "The sky itself laughed."
"Or the White was careless," Vera said flatly. "Either way, not worth mourning."
The vision shifted. Ember Lake, black with smoke. The Dark Fire Dragon thrashing in molten fury. A man with a sword. A tiger of flame. And — impossibly — a small fish darting through fire.
Silence stretched.
Then Joren burst out laughing. "A koi?! Tell me this is a jest."
"It's what the lake remembers," Lira replied calmly. "A koi. Small, ordinary. Its bite marks matched."
Saphira clapped her hands, delighted. "A koi, swimming in dragon fire. Absurd. Deliciously absurd."
Rashan snorted. "Soup fish, nothing more."
Kael folded his arms. "An illusion. Someone tampered with the memory. A koi cannot slay a Dark Fire."
"Yet two deaths happened," Nyra whispered. Nightshade rustled uneasily. "And both memories point to the same rhythm. Luck or not, the world stirs."
Vera's storm-braided hair whipped in the imagined gale. "Tier-two dragons are not us. But still, two deaths this close… Something moves."
Rashan's coal glowed red. "And movements create opportunity."
Joren leaned forward, grin wolfish. "Or sport. Hunt the miracle. See if it squeaks when squeezed."
They laughed, one after another. None feared the koi. None even granted him weight beyond amusement.
"Luck," Kael dismissed. "A joke of fate. Nothing more."
"It will vanish soon enough," Vera agreed. "The world does not allow such mistakes to live long."
Saphira smirked, stroking Seawing's scaled jaw. "Extinction comes quickly to things that don't belong. And a koi in the dragon's world?" She chuckled. "That's the smallest mismatch I've ever heard."
The laughter of the Seven filled the dragon hall.
And far away, deep in the river, a weak koi hardened his scales and whispered to himself:
I will prove them wrong.