Falk Clan Tales - Chapter 75: Chapter 75

Book: Falk Clan Tales Chapter 75 2025-10-07

You are reading Falk Clan Tales, Chapter 75: Chapter 75. Read more chapters of Falk Clan Tales.

Devine Graystone froze in place. His heart hammered inside his chest as he waited in the darkness for the signal.
He heard the seagulls crying and waves crashing against the icy black rock that held the ruins of Castle Blackthorne aloft and the QuartzDragon shuddered. The Isle of Pain was about to explode. He’d heard the rumors and had done nothing to stop them.
Why would he? This was not the Clan of his youth, and the castle was not home. It should have been a place of warmth and safety. A place where the Dragons could store their hoards, take mates, and raise young. But it was not that. Hadn’t been for many lifetimes now.
Anger filled his veins as he waited. The revolution was coming, and for his brother’s sake, Devine would be a part of it. He would break the shackles binding the Graystone brothers to that monster, Chief Dragomir. The fleshy beast stalked him down the hallways. Devine could hear him now shouting, at his ruthless minions with him. He was looking for his blade to take out the opposition. He was looking for Devine.
His Dragon snarled, the beast hated the sorry excuse for a leader. It had been this way for a long time now. Dragomir had bound him to the Clan using blood magic, but those bonds had grown thin. Devine could barely feel the pull, and the moment Nicholas was safe, he would join the attack.
They used to have a sacred duty. Dragons had been created to fight the Demons who tried to break into this plane of existence from their hellish homes. That had been a noble cause and the reason they lived in that harsh climate. So close to the hellmouth.
Dragomir had forgotten that sacred duty and other supernaturals had stepped in. Devine felt the dishonor in that down to his bones. All the old Chief cared about was growing his hoard and bringing pain to his people. The coffers had grown thin, and he’d been squeezing his people for taxes. The Clan was falling apart, and the old Dragon Chief was madder than a hatter.
Devine had heard of those who’d escaped the Isle. Released from servitude, these brothers had been bound to the old bastard for their father’s trespass. No one knew what happened to the brothers Falk, but rumors had spread. Some said Dragomir still held one in secret. Others claimed the brothers were killed by the Chief’s blade.
The latter was not true. Devine had not gone after any of them. Living far away from the world, supposition was all the Dragons knew. Dragomir ruled with fear mongering. It was the only smart thing the man did, though evil. Always evil.
Fear of the unknown was the most powerful tool the Chief could wield against his people. It would keep them in line and serving a wicked master. Devine knew that, even if Dragomir was too shortsighted to see it.
But he would not tell the Chief that. No fucking way. The Dragons needed to escape this place. To leave the rock that stunted their growth.
Devine needed to leave. He should go now. He should flee. Spread his wings, see the world, find a maiden, build a hoard. But he couldn’t abandon his brother. The sacred oath he’d made to his father had been to stay with his brother. To protect him.
Though older, Nicholas was stubborn and set in his ways. He would not leave the Chief. Not while the cretin was still breathing. Devine huddled deeper into the shadows. They were close now.
“We go to see my favorite plaything. Then we shall remind these cretins to whom they serve!”
Fuck. It was true. The Chief was on his way to torture the prisoner. He who had been kept secret for centuries. Forgotten by most, but the Graystone brothers had heard the whispers.
Nicholas tiptoed down the hall from the other end and sided up next to his brother. He held his hand out when Dev would have startled, a reflex from his time in battle. He looked at Nick and nodded his head.
Finally, things were falling in place. He wanted to speak, but Nicholas shook his head slightly. Good thing too, Dragomir had stopped and sniffed the air. The sounds of screams and claws clashing as the few Dragons left began to fight sounded loudly from the floors above.
“Bloody hell! Come, we will leave off the prisoner and see what this shit is,” Dragomir hissed, and sped the other way.
Holy fuck.
It was happening. Too late to stop it. Devine and Nicholas had hoped for this revolution and relished the chance to join in the battle, but it was not wise. Many hated Devine Graystone, as they well should. Dragomir had pushed them all too far. Now they would have to fight to survive.
“We have to get you out of here, Dev. You were his blade. They will be looking for you,” Nicholas whispered.
It was true. How many orders had he carried out on the wicked Chief’s command? How many Dragons had he cut down with his spikes? Devine was a QuartzDragon, keeper of the galaxy stone, but he was known as SpikeDragon. A Weapon. A murderer.
“There he is!” someone screamed.
“Fuck, they are coming for us, Dev. Let’s go!”
The sound of roars and snarls that had filled the halls of the castle still echoed in Devine’s brain. Blood, gore, smoke, and death filled his sensitive nostrils. Those could be washed away—but gods, the screams. Would they never end?

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