Mike floated above the world, wings spread wide. Wind poured over his scales, cool currents wrapping his body as if the air itself carried him forward. He banked slightly, and below him, the desert opened into a vision of impossible beauty.
Two vast rivers, glittering like silver threads, wound through the sands until they converged at an emerald oasis. Around their meeting rose a city unlike any he had ever seen. Its walls were cut from polished stone, each block inlaid with ornate carvings that shimmered in the sun. Guard towers flanked every gate, their tops crowned with banners that rippled like tongues of fire.
Inside the walls, life surged in every direction. Narrow streets thrummed with people in robes of scarlet, blue, and gold. Horses pulled wooden carts piled with clay jars and bright silks. Children darted between vendor stalls while hawkers shouted their wares. The air was rich with the scent of roasting lamb, saffron, cinnamon, and incense. From somewhere deep within, the beat of hand drums and the reedy song of a flute drifted upward, carried by the wind.
For a fleeting moment, Mike was entranced. He felt a serenity that pressed against something buried deep in his chest, an emotion that wasn't entirely his own.
Then the screams began.
"Dragon!"
"Run! The dragon has returned!"
The crowd scattered. Panic tore through the streets as men grabbed children and women shielded their faces. Merchants abandoned their stalls. The music faltered into silence, replaced by the clamor of bells and the crash of closing gates.
Mike's eyes snapped toward the palace at the city's center. White stone walls rose high, capped with archways of gold and lined with swaying palms. Balconies overlooked wide courtyards where fountains gleamed like shards of crystal.
On one such balcony stood a woman.
Her bronze skin caught the sunlight like polished copper, and her golden eyes locked on him with an unflinching gaze. She wore a draping white gown so sheer it seemed woven of moonlight, its folds gathering around her figure. Her black hair, long and straight, whipped in the hot wind.
Something inside Mike shifted. Hunger. Possession. A desire so raw it burned away reason.
Without thought, his wings folded. He dove.
He crashed onto the balcony in a storm of wings and claws, the stone trembling beneath his weight. His massive clawed hand swept forward, closing around her slender frame.
And still she did not scream.
Her golden eyes did not waver. Her voice, when it came, was calm, even a statement, not a plea.
"Enki will not stand by as you take me, beast. He will strike you down if you do."
A smile ghosted her lips, subtle and unreadable.
Mike's chest heaved, not with fear but with a deep, furious disdain.
"Enki," he growled, the name spat like poison. A laugh, harsh and bitter clawed up his throat. "That fool's glory is exaggerated and fabricated. A pantheon built on lies."
Mike's mind paused at the words not sounding like his own. His vision shuddered, blurred for only a heartbeat. In that moment, another face, a woman's, familiar yet fleeting flashed before him. Then it was gone. The hunger drowned it.
He launched from the balcony, wings unfurling. The city shrank beneath him as he carried his prize skyward.
He followed the river northward until its bright waters plunged into the earth. A colossal chasm split the desert, the rivers disappearing into its endless throat. Mike hovered over it, the dark air rushing upward like the breath of the abyss. Instinct, ancient and irresistible, drove him downward.
The descent was endless. The river carved a black, winding path through stone like a serpent. At last, the cavern opened, vast enough to hold the city he had left behind. At its heart rose a shattered temple of obsidian, its surface jagged, as though struck by the wrath of gods.
And at its gates loomed a dragon statue. Its carved eyes glowed faintly, unblinking, watching. Familiar. Too familiar.
Mike landed atop the temple dome. He set the woman down. Calmly, without fear, she crossed to the edge and sat, her golden eyes fixed on the black river below. She said nothing.
He coiled beside her. Time passed, hours, then days, an eternity measured only by her silence and his watchfulness.
The stillness broke with horns.
The sound echoed down the river as torchlight appeared in the distance. A fleet of ships moved forward, filling the cavern. War drums pounded. Shields clattered. The stench of oil and pitch rode the wind.
At the rear of the fleet stood a man in golden armor, his black beard trimmed, his eyes sharp as blades. He exuded confidence not the false bravado of mortals, but the arrogance of a god who believed the world his domain.
"Foul creature!" he thundered, his voice echoing across the cavern. "Release my wife! Do so, and perhaps I shall spare you!"
Mike's laughter shook the dome. He looked at the man so small, so far away and felt only scorn.
"Begone, Enki, before your false courage runs out."
Enki's face twisted with fury. His fists clenched at his sides.
"All ships! Attack the beast!"
Arrows blackened the sky. They shattered against Mike's scales, sparks flying harmlessly away. Massive bolts followed, launched from siege engines on the decks, but they too splintered.
Mike tapped a claw against the stone, waiting. Enki did not move. He only watched from the rear, smug smile carved across his face.
Patience shattered.
Mike's chest expanded, heat flooding his veins. He roared, a sound that split the cavern like thunder, and unleashed a torrent of fire across the fleet. Wooden hulls ignited, flames leaping from ship to ship. The cavern glowed orange as the river carried the burning wrecks downstream.
Screams filled the air.
Enki's smug smile broke. His voice carried above the inferno, raw with fury.
"Damn you, Kur!"
The name ripped through the dream.
Mike's eyes snapped open.
"Fuck!" He sat upright, breath ragged, heart hammering. The oasis, the city, the temple were all gone. Only the familiar cot beneath him remained.
He clutched his head. "What the fuck was that?"
The whispers crashed into him, jagged and merciless.
Devour them.
Eat the chosen.
Claim what is yours.
He slammed his fists against his skull. "Shut the fuck up!" he roared.
Movement caught his eye. Sorina was on her feet, spear in hand, her stance low and ready. Her eyes were sharp, wary, watching him as though he might lunge at her next.