Chapter 23 #2
“Please, lower your claws. This is no place for violence. It is a holy place.” The golden naga waved his arms around.
“Like hell it is,” spat Thrasik. “This place is full of murder and glory. We’ve all earned our rightful positions. Who the fuck are you and what have you done to my people?”
The naga laughed. A crispy, chiming sound.
“Your people? Last I heard, you were exiled. The one of dark obsidian scales, sent to live with the plagued wildlife for what your mother evoked onto this land. My name is Hentu, and you will do well to remember it.” The naga spun around on himself, waving his arms around to try and include the others in his taunts.
Thrasik squinted. This all seemed odd. Incorrect.
None of the other naga moved an inch. Their gazes locked onto the two of them, bouncing between each hissing naga.
Shivering from his shoulders to the tip of his tail, Thrasik bared his claws and tossed his arms down to loosen his muscles. He was ready for another fight. As much as he’d grown tired of fighting lately, this was one he’d lavish in.
Hentu flicked his white claws in a bored mockery. His icy eyes glared at Thrasik, staring him up and down.
“You’re a pathetic excuse for a naga. Look how unkempt your scales are! And the condition you left your people in. Hah! Just as pitiful as I’d expect a dragonkin to be.” Hentu spat toward the floor, a green tongue slipping against his white fangs.
“Says the devil incarnate himself. Magic only works for so many, and it’s unfortunate you had to use it upon my people.” Thrasik growled, his lip quivering as venom filled the recesses of his maw and dripped to the ground.
“Well, if it’s—”
Before he could finish, Thrasik had coiled back and launched himself at the imposter naga.
A whirlwind of claws and teeth spread around them.
Hentu tried to latch his teeth onto Thrasik just for his fangs to chip against his scales.
A twisted laugh tore from Thrasik’s lungs at hearing the failed attempt.
“You don’t even have your adult teeth, you damn fraud!” He slammed his hand into Hentu’s throat, forcing him to the ground.
The naga clutched at Thrasik’s arm, writhing and hissing as he shouted at the other nearby naga to assist. Thrasik tossed his head up toward them and flared his hood, growling an unspoken threat as they all pulled tighter against the wall.
“Worthless vermin!” Hentu shouted.
Thrasik turned his attention back down and twisted his face while he stared at Hentu. The closer he was, the more incorrect this naga looked.
“I don’t know how you got here so fast. Maybe it was that wretched demon you created.
Maybe it’s because you thought you could slaughter the last of us before I’d find out.
I know you’re too weak to fight, but not weak enough to die.
” Thrasik pushed his snout against the skull of the naga, hissing each word with such malice that everyone in the room silenced and puffed up their scales.
“Get your worthless skeleton out of my damned home. Go fuck over your own people some more instead. Just know, if I see you again and you’re able to die, I’ll rip your skull open and devour your brain before your own eyes until they fade into dust.”
Hentu snarled, still attempting to claw at Thrasik to no avail. His teeth and claws all broke each time they hit his scales.
A bright light suddenly filled the room as a jolt of ice speared the head of the naga. Thrasik turned his head and saw Griselda holding out her hand. Her green eyes were wide with hate. She had realized just the same as he did who Hentu really was.
Thrasik looked back at the false naga in time to see it shift into the skeletal form of Lazarus. The orb of his eyes bounced between each socket until it focused on him from one of them.
“I’ll be back, Child of Mish’Ta. I’ll slaughter all of your kin next time instead of trying to starve them slowly. I would’ve been merciful!” Lazarus’ bones began to fade and warble as though he himself had been an illusion.
Thrasik snapped his maw around the purple skull just as it fully faded into a cackling laugh. Frustrated, he sat up and growled. Staring around the cavern, all the naga began to shake their heads in confusion and rose to their height.
“Where are we?” A small voice questioned from the sidelines.
“A new cave?” Another voice popped up.
Thrasik didn’t stop to entertain them. If his people were to speak, then they would do so in a cave that was made on their own accord.
Not in one built off the lies of a necromancer.
He stopped by Griselda to offer her a ride.
Her face was covered in shadow. She would want to talk about this later and try to find a solution to destroy the necromancer once and for all, that much he already knew.
She shook her head, refusing. Instead, she grabbed his hand and walked out of the cave with him. When it got small enough that he had to crawl, she walked before him.
Once they arrived outside, he pulled her up onto a pedestal with him. He waited until all the naga poured out of the cave and circled around.
The elder naga slithered up to the pedestal, finally opening his hazed eyes, “Thrasik? Are you back?”
A cacophonous of voices began to sound around them.
“It’s truly him. Why did he leave?”
“I thought he abandoned us.”
“It’s been months! How dare you!”
Realization struck Thrasik. His exile had been planned this entire time as a way for him to run into Griselda. There had been false elders planted in his tribe for decades. A snarl tore through his chest.
“Everything you and I know has been a lie.” He motioned his hands over the crowd of naga.
Standing before him were multitudes of colors and genders. His people stared up with determined gazes. None held malice.
The elder naga floated his head between Thrasik and Griselda before slithering away.
“For generations our tribe has been in communication with the man-things, or humans. Neither has known they were being controlled by a necromancer.” Thrasik folded his arms and sat back on himself.
A few eyes went wide in the crowd as small murmurs began to sprinkle between them.
“Mish’Ta is dead.” He stared out over the naga, making sure to lock eyes with each of them despite their age and knowledge.
“Those that know and those that don’t, she was my mother.
As far as we know, I’m the last of the dragonkin.
That is, until we found that the necromancer used blood from one of the male dragons lost in battle and the blood of his own mate to create another dragonkin. ”
More murmurs broke through the crowd.
“Who?”
“Do we need to save them?”
Thrasik motioned his arms toward Griselda, who had been meek and quiet the entire time. Her face was stern but determined as attention turned to her.
“But she’s not naga!”
Twisting his head toward the naga that spoke out, he pointed directly at them and tried not to growl as the words left his maw, “But she still has the same blood, and you will treat her with the same respect you’re to give me.”
A hush fell over the crowd of naga as the elder came back to them, holding four silver bands in his hands. He approached Thrasik and held them out.
“No one believed my words in the past. You speak nothing but truth, but who would believe a withered old naga?” The elder grabbed Thrasik’s hand as he hesitated and shoved the bands into them. “Take your mate and become whole under our people’s law.”
Gasps sprinkled through the crowd as the word ‘mate’ spread through.
Thrasik stared at the bangles. Two were large enough for his arms while the other two looked like they would fit Griselda. He turned to her and locked eyes.
Her snowy hair fluttered around her gorgeously freckled face.
The scar along her jaw gave her a grizzled edge that he adored.
His scale sat hidden in her cleavage and without thought he hooked a claw around her necklace and pulled the scale out to sit on top of her dress.
The closest naga took a sharp inhale, understanding the meaning of what happened for her to have his scale.
Griselda stared heavy into Thrasik’s eyes. Her own had softened as a slight smirk spread across her lips.
“Your people have rings for hands. Mine use them as arm bands. They are a symbol of our undying love and dedication. I know I crave to worship each step you take and breath you make as long as your heart beats. Even after, I will chase you into the afterlife to continue to bask in your glorious starlight. But will you, Griselda, accept such a tie to such a cursed naga?” He’d bent down so his snout was almost on level with her as he spoke such words.