The Dragons and Weredragons waited anxiously, clustered together in a group. Just a few candlemarks prior they had been helping rule the Kingdom, until the Fey had turned on them and driven them out of Tórgen, the only city in Dhére.

Their leader stood in front of them in her draconic form, one of the few weredragons that had survived the attack on their kind. Now her mouth was curled back and steam came out of her nostrils as she focused one beady eye on each of them in turn.

*We will not let this attack subdue us!* she spoke using the draconic language, her words echoing in the minds of the dragons and weredragons as cries of assent were sent back from both parties. It was well known that dragons could not speak Fey, for they could not transmit the language mind to mind as they did with Draconian. Nor did they want to; the fey had betrayed their trust by slaughtering so many of their innocents and breaking the treaty between the two races.

The leader paused, then cried *If they come, let them. We will fight those who seek to destroy peace. The traitor Awiyn will not take his place on the throne.*

Her words inspired the other dragons who raised their heads in assent, collectively letting out roars that echoed in the dark – an impressive sound that would have chilled the hearts of many a man.

But they weren't the only ones declaring war, for in the distance there came a steady beat of wardrums. The dragons and weredragons looked at each other, dismayed as they hadn't believed that the Fey would truly declare war. They sent down reassurance through the communal bond, seeking to calm each other down.

The leader waited with bated breath, scanning the ground beneath them for any sign of the Fey. She was the eldest of the weredragons – the oldest to survive the attack by the Fey. Inside she mourned the peace that had been lost in the attack, but she knew she had to appear strong for the others.

Dragons did not back away from a fight.

So when the Fey came in sight it was with a heavy heart that she ordered the dragons to attack, throwing herself into the heart of the battle.

She knew that it was terrible but the draconic part of her relished in the carnage of war – of spilling the blood of her enemies and the savagery of fighting with both tooth and claw. This was what the dragons had been bred for many eons ago – while they had recently pushed for peace, the one thing that gave dragons true thrill was the excitement of the hunt.

However, half of her was still human. Half he her was the same species as the people that she now fought against, once her friends. Her human side saw the horror in war; in the sight of the full dragons tearing apart the fey and throwing them around like rags. There was a noticeable difference between the full dragons and the weredragons; the weredragons killed out of necessity whereas the truedragons killed out of enjoyment.

She scanned the blood-drenched field in search of Awiyn, but he was nowhere to be seen. She had told the other dragons to leave him for her; he was hers to kill.

Her eyes seemed to age as she thought about Awiyn. He was a traitor to their kind and deserved to die, but she hadn't remembered him always being like that. When he was younger he was kind and generous, but his family's deaths at the hands of rogue dragons changed that. He became bitter and twisted, pushing away anyone close to him.

Even her.

She wanted to cry, but she couldn't; dragons couldn't cry. The pleasure in fighting had quickly faded after the first half candlemark, but she bravely continued fighting. Her dragons needed her – she couldn't give up.

Then she saw him in the distance, watching her from afar. Her eyes narrowing she roared a challenge, raising her wings in the air to get to him faster.

A terrible mistake.

Now that they had a clear target the Fey archers shot arrows almost simultaneously at her outstretched wings. Some she was able to deflect using her watered down Fey Magick, but others escaped through her wards, hitting various places on the delicate membrane.

She first felt blood trickling down the wings, then the pain came. It was a horrible, burning type of pain, and it spread down the membrane, heading for her body.

Poison.

The Fey had used Poison. But not just any poison – they had used Feybane.

Feybane was a curious type of poison. It had little effect on dragons in general, however if one had so much as a drop of fey blood the poison would work its way through the body, destroying it in the process. It was a slow acting poison with no known antidote – hence why the Fey confiscated and locked away any they found.

The pain slowly began to build, and she clenched her wings, trying to ignore the tremors of pain coursing through her draconic body. Eventually she admitted the obvious; she would have to revert to fey form, in order to conserve her strength.

The change was excruciatingly painful and once she was in her fey form she promptly threw up over a shocked fey, wiping her mouth in disgust. She grabbed one of the arrows from the ground and used it to disarm him, grabbing his spear and skewering him through the middle with it.

The next fey stopped in front of her and hesitated, his eyes flickering to her ears as he attempted to hide his surprise at their shape – while Fey ears were slightly pointed, weredragon ears were round without a point. She took advantage of his surprise to dispatch him in the same way she had the first.

She continued battling her way through enemy soldiers, ignoring the cries of her fellow dragons and weredragons, as they were bought down one by one. She mourned them subconsciously, but her main focus was the male fey who now stood in front of her; the treacherous would-be king.

Awiyn watched her approach with barely-concealed amusement, allowing her to come within two metres of him, before signalling for her to stop. She did as he bade, her beautiful fey face twisted in hatred of the man standing before her.

She knew that she had to deal with him quickly; the poison was making it increasingly difficult for her to fight without jerking – one wrong move could get her killed. Her draconic blood was slowing down the poison but she still doubted that she had more than half a candlemark left in which she could fight.

"Call off your attack, Awiyn. This isn't you" she pleaded, hoping with her heart that some of his old self still remembered her; his first friend. "Reinstate the treaty – the fey and dragons can rule side by side once more". He stared at her impassively for a moment and she began to hope, but it was quickly extinguished when he slowly smiled – an evil, mocking smile.

"Why would I do that, when I've already won?" he asked smugly, leaning on his spear at his eyes bored into her.

"Please" she begged, tears collecting in her eyes.

His smile disappeared for a moment and she thought that she'd gotten through to him, but this hope was quickly extinguished as he shook his head. "They killed my parents, Tanía. I may have once been naive in my hopes for peace, but no longer. The dragons must pay."

His eyes flickered over her fey form from a moment before he stretched out a hand towards her, almost pleadingly. "Join me, Tanía. Together we can achieve great things, you and I."

"Never!" she hissed, then threw herself towards him, aiming her spear at his heart. Her eyes widened in horror as the spear was deflected from his wards and she fell in the dust before him.

"So be it," he murmured. A single tear leaked out from his eye as he pointed his palm at Tanía and muttered a phrase under his breath, sending a bolt of crimson light shooting towards her.

Tanía screamed out in agony – the previous pain from the feybane was nothing compared to this.

Awiyn leant down before her burning body with a mad gleam in his eyes and whispered, "never forget Magick. Our strongest Magickians are currently preparing to dispatch of your beloved dragons, and there's nothing that you can do about it."

Tanía struggled for breath as an unbidden thought came to the front of her mind – the link. She had a link to each of the other dragons, and could still use it.

With her dying breath she sent out a heartfelt warning to the rest of her race and relaxed as she heard them rising into the air, keening as they retreated from the battle for the first time in draconic history. Awiyn cursed in anger as she smiled and closed her eyes for the final time. All was not lost; the dragons would live to see another day.

And when they were ready they would topple Awiyn and return peace to the Dhére.