The dragon's descent was a cataclysm in slow motion. Its vast, black wings beat the air into a thunderous gale, sending market stalls tumbling and citizens scrambling for cover. Screams of pure, primal terror ripped through the square, a symphony of fear orchestrated by the shadow of the myth made real. The royal guards, for all their discipline, faltered, their spears wavering.
Yet, at the center of the storm, three figures stood resolute: King Kaelen, Prince Boran, and General Korbon. Their hearts hammered against their ribs, not just with fear, but with a stunned, terrible awe. This was a creature from their founding legends, a force of nature given scale and fang.
"To the King!" Korbon's roar cut through the chaos, a sound of pure, unyielding command.
In the blink of an eye, the royal guard snapped into action. A phalanx of towering gorillas, their silver armour blazing in the sun, enclosed the royal family. Their long, broad spears formed an impenetrable thicket of steel points, a wall of muscle and resolve facing the descending leviathan.
The dragon landed with a ground-shaking impact that cracked the cobblestones, its hot, rank breath washing over the square. It roared again, baring fangs longer than a badger's entire body, and the crowd nearest to it scattered like leaves in a hurricane. As the dust settled, the figure on its back became clear. He dismounted with a predator's grace, his form familiar yet alien in its menace.
It was Rajar. The name, once whispered with a mix of admiration and fear, now hung in the air like a curse. He was a Bengal tiger of immense size, his orange and black stripes stark against armour of obsidian-dark steel. His claws, like polished jet, gleamed wickedly, and his eyes held a cold, calculating fire that promised ruin. He walked with an audacity that stole the breath from Boran's lungs, a conqueror surveying his new domain.
"Stand down," King Kaelen commanded, his voice low but carrying an iron will. The gorilla guards parted, though their grips on their spears remained white-knuckled. Kaelen stepped forward, his gaze locked on the tiger. An overwhelming, visceral rage tightened his features. "You…" the King's voice was a low, dangerous tremor. "You dare desecrate this peace? You dare return here, after all you have done?"
Rajar was utterly unshaken, a statue of smug defiance. He tilted his head, a mockery of affection in his gaze. "Hello, Father."
The word landed like a physical blow. Boran felt the world tilt. "Father?" he whispered, the question torn from him.
Kaelen glanced back, his eyes filled with a pained history Boran had never been told. The King turned his fury back on Rajar. "You forfeited any right to call me that when you chose the path of a butcher!"
Their ensuing exchange was a duel of ideologies, sharp and venomous. Rajar spoke of a stagnant kingdom, of needing to expand, to bring their "good fortune" to the wildlands beyond their walls. Kaelen spat back, detailing the rivers of blood Rajar had spilled to "civilize" those lands, the subjugation and terror he had wielded as tools.
"I told you to leave and never return," Kaelen finished, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Your banishment was my last mercy."
A cruel smirk twisted Rajar's muzzle. "And I have respected it… until now." He gestured lazily to the monstrous dragon behind him, which let out a low, rumbling growl. "But are you just going to ignore the elephant in the room?" He glanced at a terrified elephant noble in the crowd. "Apologies." His eyes snapped back to the King. "I have a dragon. And by the ancient laws and traditions you cling to so dearly, that gives me the right to challenge for the throne. It was with dragons our dynasty was forged. Only with a dragon can it be won."
General Korbon stepped forward, his golden hammer held high. "We will not suffer this insolence! Royal Guard, to me!"
The gorillas roared, leveling their spears. The dragon responded, its neck craning back, a furnace glow igniting deep in its throat. The tension was a drawn bowstring, ready to snap.
"HOLD!" King Kaelen's command was absolute. His shoulders slumped, the weight of millennia of tradition crushing him. "He is right. The ancient laws must be honored." He looked old, suddenly, and terribly tired.
Rajar chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound. "What was it you would always say, Father? 'Rules… without them…'" he prompted.
Kaelen finished the quote, his voice a hollow echo. "'…we're out with the savages.'"
The King then turned to Boran. He walked to his son, and with a tenderness that shattered Boran's heart, he placed his palm against his cheek. Boran tried to speak, to protest, to beg his father not to face this monster.
"No, Father, please, you can't—"
Kaelen gently placed his fingers on Boran's lips, silencing him. His eyes, deep and full of a love Boran feared he had never properly appreciated, held his son's gaze. "Be brave," he whispered.
The King called for his sword, a ceremonial but sturdy blade. Rajar unsheathed his own. It was a relic of dark power, crackling with veins of black lightning that hissed and spat, stealing the light from the air around it. A collective gasp rippled through the square. The difference was not just in their weapons, but in their very essence.
"I have travelled the world," Rajar declared, his voice ringing with triumph. "I have endured trials that would break lesser creatures. I did it all for this moment." For a fleeting second, a shadow of regret, of genuine pain, crossed his features as he looked at Kaelen. "Do not worry. Your kingdom is in good hands."
"Enough," Kaelen said, his voice steady now, resigned to his fate. "Get it over with."
They stood at opposite ends of the ravaged square, the old badger king and the young tiger usurper. The King raised his sword. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath. Then, they charged.
Kaelen ran with the stubborn courage of his bloodline. Rajar moved with the blinding, terrible speed of his. It was over in one, swift, brutal motion. Rajar's dark blade did not simply block Kaelen's strike; it sheared through the royal sword as if it were rotten wood, and continued its arc, cutting through the King's body with horrific finality.
The world froze.
Then, Boran's scream tore through the silence, a raw, agonized sound that held the entirety of his shattered world. "FATHER!"
His cry was echoed by the horrified wails of the crowd. Rajar stood over the two halves of his fallen father, his eyes closed for a brief moment of silent mourning. When they opened, any trace of sorrow was gone, replaced by a feral, victorious fire. He pointed his crackling sword directly at Boran, who was on his knees, tears carving paths through the dust on his face.
"Bring me the boy," Rajar commanded, his tone leaving no doubt about his intent: the complete eradication of the royal line.
For a moment, everyone was frozen, trapped in the nightmare. Then, Captain Valka's voice, cold and clear, soared above the din. "The King is dead! Killed in combat under our ancient laws! By tradition, that makes Rajar our new King! Obey him!"
Confusion reigned among the guards. But an order was an order. As one, they turned their spears from the dragon and toward the weeping prince.
Just as the first guard lunged, a golden blur intercepted him. General Korbon moved with a speed that belied his colossal size. He did not need a weapon; he *was* the weapon. His fists were like battering rams, sending gorillas in full armour flying through the air. He was a whirlwind of devastating power, a grizzly defending his cub.
"Treachery!" Valka shrieked, drawing his spiked mace.
Korbon met the Captain's gaze for a split second, his expression one of utter disgust. Then he turned, his massive form shielding Boran. He leaned down, his voice a rushed, urgent rumble in Boran's ear. "Remember your father's words! Remember, Boran! "Be brave!"
Before Boran could react, the General's powerful paws closed around him. With a grunt of immense effort, Korbon hurled the prince high into the air, up and over the heads of the surrounding guards, a living projectile of desperation.
There was a flash of brown and grey. Saiya, who had been circling above, waiting for her moment, shot down like a bolt. She caught Boran mid-air with a jarring thud, her wings beating furiously to correct their trajectory.
"I have you, my Prince!" she gasped, straining under his weight.
As they soared higher, Boran twisted in her grasp. He looked back at the nightmarish tableau below. He saw the royal guard, rallied by Valka, dog-piling onto the mighty General Korbon, subduing him under the weight of their numbers. He saw his father's lifeless body, a dark stain on the bright stones. And then, he saw Korbon. Even as he was forced to the ground, the old grizzly looked up. His eyes met Boran's, and on his muzzle was a faint, sad, but resolute smile. A final promise. A job done to the very end.
Then the city fell away beneath them, and all Boran had left were his tears and the echoing command of the two fathers he had just lost.
*Be brave.*