The Nazra Chronicles: Reckoning Prey

The sound of the heavy chains clanged relentlessly in the Damned one's mind. He had given up days ago on trying to break his own chains, but the silver dragon had reached no such conclusion for himself. The beast strained with all his might, to no avail. Had the beast been able to sweat, the damned one knew it would have been in a lather - with the beast drowning in it. The dragon had joined the Damned one in his confinement days ago, perhaps even as long as a week ago, and the beast had not rested once. The whole time it tugged, pulled, strained, and thrashed against its bonds, but somehow the Humans' chains held the great Dragon King.

The Damned one had had many dealings with Dragons of all sorts. Red, black, and the most powerful of them all - the silver, but had never once in his long existence seen any of them imprisoned until now. What made it even more unbelievable was the fact that this was Grimore, King Supreme to all of the dragons. Grimore was a magnificent legend, a glorious beast in both body and mind. Feared by all Werewolves, Vampires, and Dragons alike. Feared even more so by the lowly Humans. That is... Until now! The Humans had somehow trapped the most powerful creature on the planet, the Dragon King, and now had him chained like a lowly cur. What their intentions were as far as imprisoning him went were still subject to query. The Damned one clenched his jaw. The weakling, unworthy, rabble Humans had also captured him. Leinad, Lord of the Vampires, Master of the Damned. What an absolute travesty, an utter disgrace on his part for allowing them to put the proverbial blade in his back with his trust.

Leinad looked around at his surroundings, to call it a "prison" would be a stretch. The pillar he was chained to was one of many in what looked like a great hall, or more appropriately a throne room. The hall had two rows of pillars running down each side of a wider center aisle, the pillars were made of shiny ebony marble with streaks of a white mineral he could not identify. The brightness of the white was elusive to his demonic eyes in the pale torch light. The plain, simply designed white throne at the far end of the room looked to be made of the same mineral. It too shimmered and danced in his vision, causing a strange euphoria inside of him as he tried to appreciate the simple splendor it possessed. Even in the dim torchlight, the Master of the Damned could see the grandness of Human craftsmanship. The thought of being appreciative of anything those disgusting creatures created, who were nothing more than prey to him, was enough to make him sneer with disgust.

The height of the room would have been lost to him were it not for his Undead eyes. The meager light provided by the torches was unable to capture the grandeur of that hall. The ceiling looked as if it were crafted from pure gold, with the same white streaks that ran through the pillars sprawling the entire expanse of the hall. The Human chattel had spared neither resource nor expense in their construction of this hall, leaving the Lord of the Damned to ponder the meaning of its location. The Damned, Were-beast, and the Dragons had been feeding on the humans for centuries, with no discrimination between the highest of lords and the lowliest of serfs. They thrived off of leaving the world of man to live in the shadows, hiding and scraping for survival. The room's design was definitely not what he had come to know from the timid Human race. The pathetic ones who prayed to the Known for protection from the predators with fangs and claws that inhabited their world; the ones whose prayers were rarely answered. The Humans spent their lives running and hiding from the "monsters" of the land, lurking in the shadows and quivering underground whilst hoping to avoid being noticed by the beasts of the night and the sky. Yet here they were, two of the greatest of their kinds, captured by their prey. The Lord of the Damned had only two questions... Why? How?

Grimore had not spoken to him since joining him in this imprisonment. The Dragon fought ceaselessly against his bonds, and paid no heed whatsoever to the Lord of the Damned who was chained mere feet away from him. Dragons were known to be arrogant, but Grimore was taking it too far by not even acknowledging his fellow captor. Grimore's silver scales had the torch light dancing off of them; the flames were spiraling, and maddeningly reflecting light off of the Dragon's scales. With each tug and pull, light shot throughout the hall, rippling across veins of white that entwined around the pillars and ran across the ceiling. The hall was new in its construction, and somehow familiar to him. This was something the Damned one couldn't comprehend.

Grimore was chained to the four pillars closest to the throne, and would be to the right of whoever were to be seated on the throne. Four almost diamond looking chains were anchored near the bottom or the four pillars, each shackled around Grimore's legs. Four more chains were anchored to the tops of the pillars. They each were then fastened to an ornate gold collar that wrapped around the Dragon King's neck, leaving little allowance for movement. The Damned one was sure that every movement caused the dragon at least some discomfort, if not pain. The eight chains binding him held fast with every effort to break free that he made, the torch light seemed to be swallowed up by them. Almost as if they were angrily taking it in, then releasing it with malice at every tug and pull Grimore made. Beautiful arrays of light shot across the torch starved shadows, bright and colorful, the lights catapulting off the chains screaming, "Look who we hold, and how easy it is."

Some of the lights almost seemed to harness the incinerating power of the sun, causing the Lord of the Damned to have to jump and twist against his bonds in an effort to hide in the safety offered by the shadows of the pillars. The alternative of being seared by the chain made sunlight was not a viable one. Despite his best efforts his body was covered with numerous burns, none healing due to the fresh blood that was being denied him. Grimore began another wild frenzy against his chains with barely even giving himself a moment to breathe. Leinad, bound between two pillars by the wrists, tried to dodge the deadly light as quickly as he could. Unfortunately for him, his hunger made him too sluggish to fully escape the assault. The left side of his face experienced the punishment wrought by the unforgiving light, his face and ear sizzling to ash. The stench of decaying, burnt flesh soon filled the captives' immediate vicinity. A sound of agony was rigidly held in check by the Damned one; he refused to give the beast chained with him the satisfaction of knowing that he was in pain. He would not show the insufferable creature even the slightest sign of weakness.

"Enough Grimore!" The Vampire Lord shouted, with all of the venomous hatred he could muster.

These were the first words spoken by either creature since their captivity had become a mutual ordeal. Grimore finally stilled with Leinad's words, craning his neck as best he could, his large green eyes looking Leinad up and down. Apparently he found the greatest of all Vampire lords to be wanting, for his giant mouth broke into a toothy grin as he noticed Leinad's smoldering face and ear. A look of sheer delight could easily be read in the reptilian eyes that stared back at him.

"Fuck off, lizard!" Growled Leinad then, calling the great Grimore the lowest of his species. Impossibly, Grimore's smile widened with the insult, his sword-like fangs and the gums holding them now fully exposed in a diabolical sneer. Their eyes met and locked on to one another, two master predators sizing each other up, but both knowing no duel between the two of them was to be forthcoming. However, grudges can easily be formed and retribution dealt out at the right opportunity.

Leinad's battered appearance was far from the norm for the Vampire Lord, whose usual appearance was always regal as a Lord should be. The near seven foot Vampire now only wore a loin cloth that was covered in dirt and grime. His pale skin was ragged and filthy, covered with burn marks in different stages of healing along with the dirt. Leinad's long black hair was still in a long pony tale that had once been elegant, but was now tattered and frayed. The tall Vampire, even stripped of his finery, still presented an intimidating figure. Leinad's bright green eyes seemed too bright and full of life for a creature of the Undead, although they still possessed the penetrating and fierce glare of the predator he was.

Grimore's jeering sneer turned into angry snarl. He yanked at his chains once more, the bright streams of light flailing at the Undead King. Leinad jumped away as best he could, trying to dodge the light's burning gaze. A few puffs of smoke flared as some of the rays made contact, puckering his already fragile skin. Leinad hid in the shadows as best he could, not wanting the Dragon to be able to inflict anymore pain upon him given that he had no blood with which to sustain a rejuvenation. Grimore exhaled deeply and turned away, raising his nose up in the air and sniffing. He remained silent however, and instead of responding looked to the doorway just to the right of Leinad. After days of constant clanging, the silence now present should have been a welcome peace, but Leinad could smell the presence of another as well. Queen Lesna, ruler of the pathetic Humans, was inflicting her presence upon them.

Her appearance caused his fangs to extend in lust, fury, and hunger. Her sweet fragrance and the sound of the blood pumping in her veins stirred the Vampire. Had he been a lesser Vampire, the thirst would've claimed him days ago, and this exquisite Human presence now would've sent him into a frenzy. But he was Leinad, one of the first of his kind and their King, powerful beyond measure. He fought the involuntary urge to expose his fangs and lunge at the Queen. Acting on urges out of impulse was for the fledgling Vampire, not for the King of them. Even in his captivity, he took a moment to flare his nostrils and take in the sweet scent of the lovely Queen. She was one of the few Human created who stirred desire within him, bathing himself in her essence was captivating enough in itself. Leinad watched as the Queen slowly walked by him and stopped in the center aisle, between her two captives. Her new confidence in their presence appalled him.

The Queen looked directly at Leinad. He was used to seeing a look of carnal longing and the promise of fulfilled lust in the depths of her lovely eyes, but now they reflected only hatred. She wore a royal purple gown with gold sewn around the low neckline that graciously showed off the her lavish curves. She was tall for a woman, making her neck only a slight tilt of his head and a fast bite away for him to satiate his hunger... if only she would get close enough. He looked into her eyes one more time, hoping to see the woman he had once known and lain with many times. It appeared that woman was gone, and what stood before him now was a fellow predator, something he had never seen in her before.

Grimore stared at the Queen as she walked between the two of them, the hatred in his eyes was smoldering, and surprising for a species that seldom showed or let others see their emotions. Grimore could feel the Dragon-Fire building in his chest, he could see the insolent Human whore screaming in agony as his angry fire consumed her and cooked her to his liking. All this just for him use his great maul to snatch the bitch up in one tidy bite, crunching and snapping her bones before he gulped her down. He could only imagine this though, as much as he desired to carry the act out. The enchanted collar now placed about his neck denied him his birthright of Dragon-Fire and his speech. The Queen met his gaze confidently, smirking at him as if reading his thoughts. Grimore clenched his jaw, maddened by the woman's arrogance and lack of fear. Although she was standing in the midst of two of the planet's most powerful predators, this conceited woman gave off no stench of fear.

Grimore tugged and pulled at his bonds once more to no avail, he was a collared pet of the humans to do with as they pleased. Grimore knew the collar and chains had been enchanted, and he could not break their grasp, no matter how hard he tried. The Humans had discovered magic, somehow the meat had tapped into the power of the Heavens. What had once only been knowledge and energy for the dragons alone was now being wielded by man... But how? Grimore exhaled loudly; he knew of only one way that man could gain that knowledge, and that wasn't possible. Was it? He relaxed his muscles now, not wanting the Queen too see him struggling. She looked him over, flashing him a sinister half smile, half snarl.

Grimore now stood still and quiet before the Queen, her eyes reflecting the predatory glare he was used to giving and not receiving. Where had this boldness come from? Grimore knew of only one place the magic that bound him could have originated. There was only one place on the planet had this knowledge, and that place belonged to him. He exhaled loudly once again, trying to ease the burning of contained fire in his chest. The Humans were upping the ante for every species of the planet the Dragon King now realized. But to what extent was man willing to go? He could only guess, and so far all of his assumptions about them rendered false in one fell swoop. What he did know was that magic in the hands of these ignorant, insolent morsels was a bad thing for him and hell for the planet.

He went to speak, but the collar angrily constricted around his neck and made it impossible. The spells binding him to these chains were strong and all but consuming. His senses of sight, smell, and hearing were all that he had been left. He looked at his long, massive tail that stretched almost half the length of this giant hall and wanted nothing more than to swing it with all his might and bring this entire structure down on the Humans' heads. But every time the thought entered his mind, the collar would constrict itself and send agonizing pain throughout his entire body. The blinding pain prevented any movement at all, and effectively neutered him from his tail. He was helpless as a condemned man on the gallows; he could see no way out. His years of wisdom told him that the days of Humans being scared prey were over, the Queen was after only one thing. Power.