The Last Moon Dragon

PSA to idiots on the internet who think it's ok to plagiarise, this story has already been reposted once by a user on wattpad and I (OP / author) reported them immediately. Don't copy and paste other people's stuff. It's against the law. Think of your own idea before stealing an 11 year old's.

CAUTION: TWO YEAR OLD DRAFT VERSION. FULL OF SPELLING MISTAKES AND OTHER GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. "The kingdom of Heriven isn't exactly the best place to live. Ruled by a twisted King and a power-hungry Baron, the poor exist to serve the rich. Attacks from other kingdoms have finally ceased over hundreds of years, but only because of a bigger problem. Other places have infestations of lice and vermin, Heriven has dragons. Although there has not been a dragon sighted in the kingdom for over a decade, and the people are at ease, it won't be long before it all changes, and a legendary dragon shall make its reappearance...This was voted best Fantasy Movella 2012

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53. Shining Scales and A Familiar Voice

The night was closing in over Heriven - or what remained of it.

So many people were dead, or dying. The lake, once such a happy place of blue clear waters, was nothing more than a large ditch filled with murky slime, dotted with dead plants and the skeletons of fish.

The village, once alive with the merry and uplifting sounds of laughter and song, was quiet, and now the only sounds that echoed round the cobbled streets were the moans of the ill, and the sobbing of the grieving.

The castle, half destroyed but still heavily guarded, was cold - the faded flags on the towers were torn and ripped, and the icy wind forced its way through the stone and into the armour of the guards, making their eyes water and their teeth chatter, but they resisted. Screams echoed up from the dungeons that lay deep below the ground; they were the result of torture, of starvation, of the slow process of death.

The sky was a mix of the darkest shades of blue and purple - a spreading bruise that cloaked the remaining sunlight, forcing it to the depths of the horizon. For a few moments, all was quiet. The screams and cries died down as the sun finally dropped and the air became thick with darkness.

Down a secret path, the manor house was just as melancholy. King Oskar snored, his head on the oaken table, a bottle of spilt wine next to his head. It had not occurred to him that he was sitting in the exact spot where Osslor's heart had stopped beating, and he had fallen to the floor where his skull cracked.

Up in the empty bed chambers, the atmosphere was even colder. Nobody went up there now - the servants were banned and so the whole floor was dusty and unkempt. Ocello's room lay untouched, the bed still made, the curtains opened.

There was something amiss amongst this place. The door to Osslor's room was open, the rusted hinges creaking in the soft icy breeze. The lock had been picked.

Something was glowing in the darkness of the room, underneath the painting of Queen Ophelia, which was covered by black cloth. The something glowed strongly, blue and bright, and it was humming very quietly.

And in the few moments of silence that signalled defeat, the moonstone beneath the painting, identical to the one locked in Ocello's grip, rolled towards the window, where the dark clouds parted and the full moon shone down, striking a beam of pure light across the bed and onto the glowing stone.

There was a roar in the distance, and it could be heard even from the manor.

Reflected in the stone by moonlight, the image of a dragon appeared. It's wings were beating - it had taken flight.

***

Back in the forest, they heard the roar.

GET DOWN! Sethlore roared, finally freeing himself of the branches and pouncing towards them, covering them with his wings. Kytra clinged to Sethlore in fear, and Ocello took Pike and Fletch's hands. The moonstone slipped out of Ocello's grip and it rolled into the trees, glowing with a blinding blue-white light.

Sethlore saw the dragon crash through the trees a few yards away from the clearing - it's scales were so bright in the moonlight it almost hurt to look at it. It cried out, and Kytra understood it.

OCELLO! OCELLO! WHERE ARE YOU?

But before Kytra could say anything, Ocello had buried her head in her arms.

"It's the voice!" she hissed. Pike and Fletch looked at Kytra in terror.

"It's calling her," she said, trembling.

It recognises her. Sethlore grumbled.

What is it? asked Kytra.

A Moon Dragon, of course, what else?!

OCELLO! Please...

Will it hurt her? asked Kytra.

I don't know.

Ocello... the dragon let out a jet of scarlet flame, igniting the trees around the clearing.

Sethlore growled - he did not speak, it was a sound of both fear and anger. He curled his wings tightly around Ocello, Kytra, Fletch and Pike and narrowed his pale eyes as the Moon Dragon came into view.

The dragon was slightly larger than Sethlore, but thinner, and weaker. It's ribcage was highly visisble through the scale-less skin of its stomach, and it's snout and head were positively skeletal. It had the desperate beauty of Ocello herself - you could picture how lovely it would look if it was healthy, but because of its condition it was bedraggled and almost ghostly. The scales that were touche by moonlight glowed brightly, but the ones that were hidden by trees were dark enough to blend into the forest. It's eyes were a dazzling blue.

What do you want? Sethlore hissed. Ocello was crying silent tears of terror and confusion, and Pike put his arms around her. They could hear Sethlore's racing heartbeat as they huddled under the protection of his wings.

I need Ocello. I know she is here, I have waited so long...

The moon dragon's voice, when soft and calm, was decidedly female, Kytra thought, but she said nothing.

What business do you have with the girl? Sethlore demanded.

Nothing could have prepared both Kytra, Sethlore and Ocello for what the creature replied with.

You do not understand. She is my daughter.

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