FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 26

Are you satisfied?

Flare trembled on the cold, dirty floor, he was stretched out on his belly, the floor slick and rattling from the remains of the rats that he caught, their bones and ash floating in his cell.

All of it mixed with his own, hot blood, hissing like strong acid.

He had the claws of one of his forelegs pressed against the cracked stones, extended paw was assaulted by an unending torrents of quivers, the claw touching the rock wanted to continue to write yet instead the never ending shakes caused them to scratch at the stone all around.

The strong quivers however turned the claw into a drill, instead of leaving cuts across the surface of the gloomy rock, the claw created crevices in it, open spaces that were bleeding red tears, the blood from his molested toes.

There were plenty of such cracks filling the surface of the prison cell, some of them had already tongues of dried blood lolling out of them. Despite the blood loss and the obvious discomfort Flare continued his work.

And I? No, I never want to see you smile.

His body was pulsing like a heartbeat, switching between strong and weak light alternately, under that illumination the scratches he created were visible only. The lines of letters he practiced when Cyril locked him here were still there, some small parts of it anyway, most of his work was turned to scratched out gibberish, the very first letter nothing but a worthless hole now as if a strong fist would bang it.

The scratching began from the beginning, all the effects he put into practicing his writing skills were rendered useless.

And I never want to see you satisfied.

Flare whined, blood trickled down his chin, his trembling claw made a chipped the rock, seemingly meritless action to someone looking at him from the distance, to him however it was continuation of practice.

Are you satisfied?

It was his escape, this was E, E like escape.

His wings flashed, the cell burst with sharp, red illumination, revealing crack the dragon took for a letter to be nothing more but a bloody, totally random hole in the wall. Slice of red scale glistened in the corner, impaled on the chipped edge like a worm on a fishing hook.

Red paw made a chaotic slide, the wild tremble causing it to slip, hurt from the unhealthy pressure toes drew a line of blood across the wall.

He coughed roughly, spitting a glob of blood onto the wall. Flare immediately pressed his shaking claw to the splotch, fighting to write another letter before the Beast gets here.

And I? No, I never want to see you die.

Another pulse of red light, in the corners of his visions Flare noticed wiggling shapes, thousands of them, dark and slippery.

"Shadows!" he rasped, spitting droplets of blood on the stone, claw digging roughly into the rock, ripping a shard of it.

"Shadows! Not worms!" he cried out, choking on his own tongue

But I never want to see you satisfied.

He retched, the writing paw losing its strength to maintain balance on the wall, sliding down in a wide arc, painting the wall red, like a splashed paint from a bucket. He crashed on the floor with a hollow thud, the sharp impact making him puke blood onto the ground and wall, splatters of which struck his nose as well, drowning his aching lips in the warm, crimson pool.

He heaved heavily, each inhale stealing a deep, strange, otherworldly sound from his throat, as if one lung would breathe out a deep whine while the other a guttural blare from the deepest bowels of a stomach.

"No more WORMS!" the rumbling noise burst from his maltreated throat, paw shooting forward, smashing into the wall with a burst of bright, blazing fire. One of the many rat's bones was touched by the heated spark, the flame ate through the bone with ease, drilling a black hole completely through, weakening the structure of the bone and making it crumble.

The spark wiggled and glowed on the ground like a miniature falling star, spitting tendrils of fire in every direction, devouring the remaining pieces of the ruined bone from just a moment ago.

Flare slashed wildly at the wall, springing into a sitting position with unnatural ease, stone cracked under his magically heated blows, here and there he pressed his claws stronger against the rock, drawing deep scratches on the surface. Each strike kicking a stream of blazing fire, the burning arcs creating intimidating, monotonous red rainbows on the thick and dusty air of the dragon's prison.

If there would be anyone here right now to observe the dragon from behind he would be tell that the red drake looked like a feverish painter creating his masterpiece with long, confident strokes in a sudden spark of creativity that he wants to squeeze out completely before the fleeting moment fades away.

At some point Flare started to roar, both in pain and feral fury, fire was stretching out from his unendingly opened mouth, twisting and flapping like a tongue, as if there would be a creature stuck inside his stomach that wiggled around to climb out from his gullet.

Several strikes later the mouth finally clamped shut, followed by a final, rabid stroke against the wall, thick dust pilled up below his paws when the last of the rocks finally dropped on the cold floor. The cell was lit like a lighthouse by now, rainbows of flames danced near the ceiling, the nearby bars pulsed red with heat.

Flare was no different, glowing bright like a lit torch, each part of his burning body was so heated up that the colors practically shifted from red and yellow to complete white.

The drake had his eyes fixated on the wall ahead, streams of blood poured from the corners of his blazing eyes, he sat there paralyzed, his chest was the only thing that was moving, heaving sharply.

The dust finally settled down, revealing the effect of his work.

BEAST.

Beast was engraved on the wall, each letter thick, perfectly curved and visible as if done by a talented scribe. The crevices were filled with a river of boiling blood that kept winking at him with thousands of its red, bubbling eyes , the crimson liquid ideally filling the crevices, each drop that tried to pass through the letter's edge was withered and dried out momentarily, only adding to the thickness of each written symbol.

His silhouette was casting a long shadow across the cell, part of it stretched towards the carved word, splitting in two halves, each occupying the opposite side, one at the end, one at the beginning of the written noun.

The shadow on the end did not fit his shape at all, it wasn't even of draconic origins, it was a rough mass of swiveling shadowy spikes that made out its mane, only connected with a shadowy ferocious maw that parted so wide it could swallow him whole. Its entire, dark back was undulating, putting the spikes in motion, as if there would be thousands upon thousands of small critters there, desperately fighting for the spot under the tendrils so they can feed.

On the opposite side was a shadow that looked almost like him, meager and small, extremely thin to top it all, yet clear draconic features similar to his own stretched out in all the right directions, giving enough proof that the shadow there belong really to him.

It was facing the monstrous shape on the opposite side, shape that immediately lunged at the smaller figure. The draconic gloomy silhouette did not back down however, countering the attack of its more massive foe.

The fiery lights surrounding the cell lost their vigor the moment both shadows clashed, engulfing the entire cell in total blackness. Even Flare's natural fiery body parts were stripped of their illumination, losing strength like a lamp running out of oil.

In a span of several seconds the cell flared back up again, the sudden burst of light blinded the drake making him flap the eyelids of his bleeding, slick eyes. When he opened them the shadow was gone, returning to stretch out naturally from underneath his paws. The wall he looked at however wasn't the same, two more rows appeared above his written noun.

"The" and "I am", with the latter being on top of the two.

Both words were burning, engraved with such a strong flame that it ate into the rock, the blazing tentacles burned even him.

Flare jerked his head back from the heat, with a heavy heart grasping the entirety of the written text, even though, somewhere deep down, someone screamed at him that he should not do it.

Yet it had no strength, the sound was only a meager whisper in the face of the noisy groaning of a drooling monster.

"I am the BEAST" he recited, feeling as if the entire world he knew would collapse on top of him

There was no turning back.

No rescue.

"There are no more worms!" he screamed, digging claws into his temples, the draconic blades sliding into the scale with ease as if they would be cutting into butter

The scales dropped down as if they would be hanging slices of an already cut pelt ready to be rolled into a carpet, blood was squeezing through the recently opened holes, more blood was spilling onto the red body, the crimson liquid sliding down the claws with the passion of a lover's tongue.

"Get out of my head! " he withdrew the claws, crimson shower painted the cell after the dragon's chaotic and ungrateful behavior.

He turned the very same paws into fists, smashing them right between the hors,, the blow was so strong that each burning part on his body fought back a hiccup. Legs followed in their wake, the strike making them bent down, force of the blow squashing them until they eventually brought the red body back up in one lively bounce, as if they would be an abused spring having enough of the rough treatment.

Time to burn.

All around him, on ground level, rocky plates of the surrounding walls started to crack, each shatter causing the impossibly bright and hot light of the fire that was hanging nearby to vanish, sniffing out every tentacle of flame until nothing remained but a delicate curtain of fiery light right above the mess.

It's soft illumination casting an atmospheric glow upon the floor.

Disgusting noises hit his ear holes with the power of a tidal wave, noises that he was very familiar with. It was a mixture of chittering and wet, thick splatter as if you would slap a still warm pile of poop.

He noticed many small shapes pouring from the holes, shapes in the form of small rocks and long sticks, armored in chitin plates or naked, pleated flesh. All crawling towards him.

"No worms!" Flare screamed, backing away, thrashing his head from side to side, blood was splattering everywhere like dandruff from a long, unwashed hair.

The walls of the tight cell seemed to shrink, locking him inside even a more tighter box, all the wormy shapes only slithered closer.

One bit his tail.

Flare roared, breathing a hot stream of fire on the floor while pushing his body into a swift spin, encircling himself with a wall of blazing heat. Under the bright, sun-like light one could see the dragon's body cracking in several places, bleeding profusely.

There was a hole below his right foreleg that seemed so deep that there was no bone or flesh visible, as if it would run clean through, yet instead of a view as through a small periscope, there was a river of flames swirling inside.

Flare cried out suddenly in his unusual, double toned voice, feeling a powerful jerk of choking, squeezing pain striking his very spirit. The fire died down in an instant, whizzing into a weak trail of hot steam until it was gone completely.

The room went practically pitch dark, the only source of light left was stuck to the dropped body of a red dragon who was twinkling like an almost burned out match.

The disgusting shapes climbed all over him.

"WORMS!" Flare blared out a guttural roar that shook the bars od his cell, a ring of flames burst from his body, spreading throughout the entire prison, sparkling up fiercely the wings and other previously twinkling pieces on his body.

He slashed fiercely, bouncing wildly all around, swiping with his claws near the ground, painting the air with trails of red flames and blood. He swept again and again, his roaring increasing its tone, becoming more otherworldly by the second, the sound so low that it was hard to decide if it was a grunt or a feral scream.

No matter how many times he swiped, the only thing he left on the ground was blood and burnt, shallow, scorched dashes.

No ash.

The worms were still breathing!

Flare spun around with a blare, his flared up eyes scanning fervently the area nearby in search for the shapes that so hungrily poured towards him.

There was nothing there.

"WORMS!" he roared demandingly, making another twist in the air to check out the opposite side, before his hectic eyes could glance upon the floor his claws were already in the air, just like previously wildly slashing at the floor

Sparks kept bouncing in the air when the claws slid across the dirty tiles, his body spitting tongues of flames with each twist and turn, the temperature in the cell rose so high that the bars turned red.

After several grunts Flare's legs finally stopped their chaotic swings, his entire body froze in place, eyes settling on the massacre he committed.

But besides the trails of fading fire his claws painted there was nothing else there.

He fell with a scream, raking his claws across the cheeks, peeling off strands of scales to reveal at first holes with blood. After another scratch those holes of blood and flesh were gone, giving appearance to an opening into a river of fire.

"WHERE ARE THE WORMS?!" Flare roared with an otherworldly voice, his entire body bursting with feral flames, the beast of shadow that carved out the letters appeared once more, sliding across the illuminated walls with the speed of a stalking ghost

And then came a deep rumble that echoed throughout his entire cell with the power of a horn bellow.

Flare balked, blood streaming down his burning eyes, the flames and the beast held their breaths together with him.

The door to his prison began to open.

The flames surrounding the room and Flare's body died down completely, covering the cell in a pitch dark veil.

*

Cyril put his leg into the crack, always making sure that the spots through which the murderer could slip through were covered. He hitched the door a little wider, giving them a small shove with his leg, before sliding more of his body inside. His nostrils working tirelessly, almost immediately being assaulted by a scent that was far from pleasant.

It smelled like something very rotten would burn.

He was immediately reminded of a pile of thrash being set alight, yet after several more sniffs that image changed to something more drastic, the thrash was shifted into an image of a corpse, many corpses that were already eaten by all sorts of sickness that sucks outside the worst possible toxins in one's body.

Was the boy burning his own shit for giggles?

He would not expect even someone as dumb as him to willingly make his own bad situation even worse than it already is.

But then again why would anyone question the doubtful integrity of mind of someone who has no objections about blowing up a house of an entire family?

Awful stench of guilt, that what it was.

Perfect, perhaps finally the boy will listen.

He finally slipped inside, besides the bad smell there was something else hanging in the air that wasn't here earlier.

Heat.

He felt as if he would step inside a mole's mineshaft, a place in which one is surrounded by their technical brilliance, in a place where all the complicated machinery would work, processing, transporting, supporting, gears generating warmth from every direction. Unpleasant but bearable.

Here?

Here the heat was twice as strong.

Even though ice dragons don't serve as perfect body pillows due to their natural, yet chilly scale temperature when considering all other draconic breeds he could still feel delicate beads of sweat hissing into existence in one place or the other on his body.

If not for his birthright aura Cyril expected that he would easily suffer some sort of vertigo, if not a brief loss of consciousness if the sudden shift of temperature would take a really bad toll on his aged resistance.

"Boy!" he yelled into the dark cell, lashes of hot air whipped at his throat

The dragon immediately coughed, rough sound he let out only making it worse, his paw blindly reached to the side where was that one single lamp to light up the cell.

He hissed when suddenly blazing heat stung his toes, unexpected pain jerking his paw back.

It was this aching moment of revelation that stirred his fighter's spirit, he immediately sensed that familiar crush of anxiety on his heart, a grip so fierce that he could feel his heart pounding at the chest as it struggled to beat its way to freedom from the clench.

Besides that there was nothing but silence.

He already recognized the layout of the prison cell, a solid, thick line of wall ran from the doorframe until on both sides until it eventually split into metallic bars leading to specific holding areas. A jerk of a neck was enough to look past the wall and see what the dragon was doing.

Quite normal and nothing spectacular.

If not for the fact that there was not even the tiniest light coming from any of the cells, something definitely unusual considering that Flare was basically made out of always burning flames.

Besides the cautious anxiety something else stirred his heart, fear, not for the life of the murderer but the perspective of losing his chance to set things right. Fear that he was losing his touch, with age finally catching up to him, after all he could expect something similar to happen anytime soon, the dragon looked worse for wear each time he visited him. He wasn't much interested in the boy's condition, but he shared enough words with Volteer to know how to properly torture the kid, without soiling his own claws in blood.

If he knows all of it and is afraid of wasting his chance then why his legs don't want to move?

Because there was also this anxiety.

He sensed danger, the years he spent on the battlefield taught him a thing or two about survival, fighting developed habits that the mind simply did not allow to ignore, freezing the body in place. Just like when he was but a child playing some sort of a game with his friends into which they were greatly involved only for one of them to speak up about a toilet break. Pause was issued for that time, the world they created stopped like nothing ever happened only to resume again when they were back from the necessary break.

Similar feelings, the only difference being in the end result, which is far more dreadful in the adult life.

Death is what awaits the reckless adults.

"Boy!" Cyril blared out into the darkness again, bluish light pulsed on the nearby when magical energy started to build up in his mouth, slipping through the teeth

.Just like before there was no sound.

Blue paws made a careful step, flank of the draconic body was pressed against the wall, purposely covering the body in the best way possible. Tip of the nose scratched over the edge, reaching the end of the cover, Cyril froze, taking an uncomfortable swallow, throat stretching out when the bulge morphed into a projectile of ice within his neck.

He pushed out from behind the cover with one swift jerk, parting his mouth, chilly light casting light on the bars and some terrain inside the cell. There were silently boiling pools of red blood on the floor.

What the hell is going on?

Where is the kid?

He had enough of this disturbing hide and seek game.

Cyril blasted a stream of ice at the far wall, the bolt spreading wavering light around itself.

Then from the corner of the cell sounded a blood freezing roar, with an explosion of blazing fire a shape lunged towards the Ice Guardian, its fiery claws ready to pluck his eyes out. The entire room immediately turned bright, the flames that spread from the figure clung to the corners like a burning spider web.

Everything happened so fast that Cyril's reflex could not keep up with the action, the claws of the strange figure managed to catch him and this difficult to withstand pain was what woke him up. The blazing blades had no trouble to slice through his scales, yet it didn't feel like a cut at all, more like something would take a bite and rip a chunk of meat from him.

Cyril screamed in pain, his own body bursting with an aura of cold energy, silhouette sprouting cold spikes in defense. The magical armor impaled the figure, pushing the attacker away from him, yet despite this he could still feel the heat trying to melt his meat to the bones as it slashed with its claws.

The creature attacked him again, releasing a stream of hungry flames towards him.

Cyril noticed it happening and immediately transformed the aura that he rose up in defense in a veil of magical energy right in the way of the incoming beam of heat. The magical energies crashed, tendrils whipping everywhere as the opposite forces of nature tried to dominate the other.

The Guardian used the moment to flap his tail, sending a wave of ice at the impaled beast, beast that seemed completely preoccupied on offense, burning through his shield with no regard for its own protection. The wave struck the attacker with full force, while it left no frost on the body due to the immense heat in the room, the power of the impact his magical attack carried was enough to push the creature away.

It flew right through the bars as if they wouldn't be there, the blazing heat sliced through the metal like butter. He noticed it only now that the bars were already in meager state after the creature lunged at him, now when he threw it back the destruction was complete.

The bars were eaten away completely.

In this brief moment of respite Cyril found a window big enough to get a proper glimpse at the one he was fighting with. It was definitely Flare, but something was very wrong with him. He looked like a leper at first glance, with patches of his scales ripped off, blobs of blood covered his body and in many other places there were holes with what seemed to look like liquid fire inside.

He was like a very old golem with a cracked body and sizzling magic through the holes, still working but a depressing sight to look at.

He was falling apart, there were only scraps of red scale remaining on his body, and those were already having cracks filled with blood. Majority of the boy's flesh was liquid fire with constantly erupting flames from each hole as if they would be their own separate volcanos.

His eyes were made of burning cinders, there were no pupils or irises, merely empty eyeballs with huge, wild fires in each of them. If not for the characteristic wings he would have troubles identifying Flare from snout alone, it was as ruined as the rest of the body. Massive dashes ran down his cheeks as if he would dig his own claws there and peel off the scale like used bandage. Tongues of fire were wafting from the cuts like from an unendingly irritated by a bellow fireplace.

The ignited tendrils spread all around the snout, parting the scales to reveal cracks from which more inferno breathed, the exhales it made were wafting from the openings that were previously the nose, each quick breath visible since long tendrils of fire curled into the air like small scythes. The kid's mouth was constantly ignited, like there would be something burning inside.

The horrid stench he smelled in the beginning hit him once more, but this time it was more nauseating because he located the source. It was the kid, the fire was eating him from inside out, smoldering scale and organs alike.

He was a burning corpse, held back together only by the being that hid underneath, a creature which he couldn't find a name for, a creature that for some reason was literally breaking through. The idea only encouraged more by the strange shadow swiveling across the cell, far more massive, far more rabid and distorted than that of a dragon. Even though it was stretching from Flare's paws the shadow was way too big and unfamiliar to belong to him.

He couldn't tell what it was, its form seemed to constantly shift, one moment he would say that it looked like a huge bear with matted with blood fur that stood in every direction, just for the idea to change a moment later when the shadow turned basically frontally where it reminded him of a massive bird spreading its wings to swoop down on its prey.

The gloomy reflection was just as chaotic as the boy himself.

Until now he put much doubt into Volteer's theories about the kid and how his specific condition affects him. But now he realized his mistake, Volteer was right and he agrees with him completely.

This boy was a monster.

Flare, or whatever was left of him charged once more, kicking up a small explosion of flames as he lunged forward, blazing tentacles sprouted from the ruined sides, the heated tendrils immediately lashed towards the Guardian, visibly hungry for his flesh.

Cyril instantly channeled more energy into his protective, magical armor, due to his frame he was unable to shield himself from the slapping tongues of fire and Flare himself. He deflected those strikes he could with his wing, but several other strikes hit him directly, the cold coat he wore however prevented the inferno from eating away at his body, each tendril bouncing back in visible agony when it struck him. Each blow was fallowed by a loud hiss of magic when the chilly armor threw back its attacker.

By the time Flare was already on him, using no special technique but brute force, the Guardian took up the challenge, slashing at the creature as it attacked. His cold infused claws struck Flare right across the face, splatters of inferno spurted all around like blood from a cut artery, yet even that did not slow the monster, the beast was rabid, it was doubtful it felt any pain at all.

Something that couldn't be said about him, even though the slash he did was a strong one, would most likely drop majority of the world's creatures, especially when they would be so reckless about defense as his current enemy, he was the one who seemed to feel the effects of the attack more.

His elemental energy whirled in his veins after the blow, immediately putting up more effort to recover the magical armor that was practically depleted after one strike. The energy with which Flare was charged was something new, never seen before. It was a pure element of destruction, far more outmatching the raw magical potential of every dragon. Whenever dragons start to wield magic there is a border which they reach and dominate the magic inside them, this is what makes them sentient creature instead of rotting corpses that couldn't cope with the power in their veins.

A failsafe so to speak.

A failsafe that Flare did not care about.

The only difference being that he was not dead.

And it was that power behind the border that touched him when he attacked, its sizzling grip took a hold of his paw, stinging it with painful flames, even though the Guardian's magical armor stepped in immediately to fill up the opening, Cyril could still smell the stench of his scales being burned.

Flare crashed into him, parting his mouth for a bite, tails of inferno flowed from his opened maw, stretching out like a fire assaulted by a strong wind as it devoured tree crowns from a forest.

The magical shield did not stop him.

The burning teeth sank into the blue leg, Cyril roared in pain, his voice muffled by the cracking of magical energy when the flames pushed through the constantly regenerating ice shield. The Guardian acted out of instinct, diving his head down to bite into the back of the neck of the monster that wanted to eat him.

Blaze erupted all around his draconic snout when his teeth got a grip of the neck, the flames scorched his snout, yet despite that he jerked his head back, the force of adult, developed draconic muscles was enough to peel off a creature as small as the beast was.

The burning mouth drew scorched lines across the bitten leg, revealing burned meat underneath.

Cyril flung the creature away with a roar of anguish, the flames kept exploding even more fiercer when his teeth let go off the beast, and to make things worse one of the waving, fiery tentacles slapped him across the cheek.

He felt the flames burning his throat from the inside, the Guardian coughed fiercely only once, ignoring the discomfort to focus on his enemy. His claws already glowing blue, channeling energy for an attack.

Enemy that no longer looked the same.

More red scales appeared on the burning body, at first he thought that perhaps it was blood covering his sight, but the clean, fresh red color on the creature's cheeks stood in perfect, contradicting contrast with the rest of the splotches on Flare's body.

The dashes on his cheeks were gone. They were gone after his flames ate a piece of his blue scales. After it fed on life.

This is why he was killing the rats.

The thought crossed his mind swiftly, but it all made sense, he kept this boy in prison for days and while his behavior was wavering, understandable since he was locked in a tight, dark place while most likely suffering from claustrophobia, nothing foreshadowed such a drastic change.

It seemed to happen suddenly.

Just when the rats stopped appearing, exactly what he predicated to happen.

The boy was not killing the rodents out of boredom, he was killing them to survive, or to satisfy the hunger of his monstrous alter ego.

It made the kid even more of a fitting tool than ever before, a tool he cannot afford to lose.

Cyril silenced the magic in his draconic blades, he gritted his teeth, getting his nose acquainted with the smell of his burned flesh.

"Come on boy, I can see that you're hungry" he hissed through clenched teeth, flexing the muscles

Flare lunged towards him with a feral roar, his voice also seemed to change just like his body did, here and there in the otherworldly tone the Guardian could hear a higher note of the kid's usual pitch.

The burning whips lashed at him once more and just like before Cyril and his magical shield deflected some of the blows, yet this time he made certain that at least every second strike found its mark. Burning pain exploded through his nerves, each muscle screaming and wanting to push back yet Cyril forced his body to stay in place, letting it be tasted by the hungry flames.

Tears filled his eyes, blood started to drip from his lips when his own fangs sank into the flesh, yet despite it all he did not scream.

Something that did not change even when Flare latched his blazing claws across his shoulders, maw biting into his chest, with no regard to the natural ice formations protruding from the Guardian's body, formations that in some places pierced the silhouette of his attacker.

The heat spreading through his body was unbearable, Cyril watched in horror as scorch marks were spreading through his scales, the magical shield he put around himself was under fierce assault, yet he knew what to expect, he knew what he was doing so he had the focus to maintain it around his organs, to keep the flames from eating his heart and lungs.

He had planned it all.

Even though that most likely many would call him insane.

With each, wavering whiff of his nose he was more and more willing to admit that those people would be right.

The tentacles stopped their wild lashes, seeing as their prey was not fighting back they curled around the legs tightly, like snakes ready to devour their prey before crushing it.

Cyril started to shake, the pain pulsed somewhere there, quite vividly in fact, but it no longer hurt in the blunt definition of the word. Everything started to feel distant, just like a paw being numb after you sleep on it for too long.

He observed the glued to him creature through watery eyes, blood dripped from his lips on top of the blazing mane, boiling and withering in an instant. The boy clung to him like a parasite, yet instead of gaining strength like every other bacteria like that would do after feeding, the light he was emanating was becoming weaker and weaker.

He could see red scales growing around the holes with burning fire inside them, at first the opening were filled up with flesh and nerves, just for thick blood appear a moment later, patching the hole completely, only then scale appeared, sewing the cracks entirely. Natural draconic armor glistening, fresh and young like that of a freshly hatched hatchling.

The monstrous shadow slithering on the surrounding walls shrunk and changed shape, more and more resembling that of a real dragon.

The flaming tentacles disappeared as well, when the cracks on Flare's flanks healed they were cut out from their source of life and immediately hissed into non existence.

Even though Flare's grip on him weakened, the hungry creature didn't seem any closer to stopping, the scorch marks were spreading wider and wider.

To make things worse Cyril felt them spreading deeper as well, his heart pounded so frantically as if it tried to desperately avoid the flaming daggers that wanted to pierce it.

The world around started to lose focus.

He had many opportunities to feel the graze of Death's skeletal finger to recognize the signs.

"ENOUGH!" Cyril roared in anguish, blood sputtering forward in huge stream from his wounded lips, his eyes flared up with cold, blue energy

The shield he protected himself with colored his body in a blue hue until it finally exploded in a wave of icy projectiles and chilly wind, the powerful freezing magic covered the walls in ice and snow, completely ruining the bars of the opposite cell.

The shockwave threw off the dragon from him, his claws ripped the weakened flesh, peeling off a black patch when their owner was cast back.

Cyril roared, slapping his paw against the hole in his chest, freezing the wound while smashing his tail against the wall. The moment Flare crashed into the far end of the room several icy spikes sprouted from the ice covered walls, piercing him through the wings and shoulders before curling like hooks and driving through the legs to keep the dragon in place.

Despite having majority of his body recovered from the flames the eyes of the red dragon were still burning, the hungry beast was weakened, but it was not gone and it was struggling to break free. The flames surrounding him however weren't as strong anymore to eat through the ice magic with such ease as before.

The Guardian wavered on his legs, bouncing from side to side before finding the leaver, button, or whatever the thing was to open the door of the cell.

Flare kept roaring, smashing against his icy cage.

Leaning against the wall Cyril managed to slide out from the room, he fondled with the mechanism again on the outside, closing the door and clicking the handle in such a way that prevented it from being manipulated from the inside, like he did many times before.

The moment he heard the characteristic click of the door he fell on the ground, dust kicked in the air when his big body crashed on the floor.

The only thing he wanted right now was to close his eyes. He was so tired.

But they don't call him stubborn for nothing, he had a job to do, a city to save.

And what is better in fighting a monster if not an another monster?

And now he knew how to pull at the leash of his own pet.

They always said to keep your enemies closer than your friends after all.