Drach

Noun

Translation: Dragon

Definition: "Drach" signifies dragons, reptilian creature characterized by immense power, the ability to fly, and mastery over elemental forces. The existence and nature of Drach stir significant debate among the scholares, oscillating between views of them as mere creature or as Spirits. This dichotomy positions Drach at the intersection of fear and veneration, marking them as subjects of one of the realm's profound mysteries.

Cultural/Contextual Background: The societal structure of Drach is notably unique, operating similarly to hives with a central figure known as the Drachdame. The primary objective of the Dragon Queen is to proliferate her species through the production of eggs, ensuring the continuity and dominance of Drach across the land, sea and sky. As of the current era, there exists only one known female dragon, Talathon Drach.

All around Muna, creatures from every corner of the Great Continent danced and mingled, their varied forms and colours blurring under the lights. Despite the chill of the Winter, the close press of sweaty bodies dancing seemed to create a bubble of warmth, shielding the revellers from the cold and drawing everyone deeper into the festive, lavish spirit.

Amidst this whirl of activity around her, Muna felt a gnawing unease, a hunger clawing at her from the inside and the only distraction of that agony was but one: finding Orlo.

She continued to walk through the mass, her demeanour aloof and her gaze fixed ahead in the nothingness. People reached out, voices rising over the music to wish her a happy birthday or simply to catch her attention at seduction, but she brushed past them, unresponsive.

This night was not merely her birthday but a Menschen spectacle lacking pretence and shame. The tradition was steeped in such antiquity that its origins had blurred into the realm of fairy tales. Yet, each Winter, the wine would be plenty, and skin would be barely concealed, teasing the eye and much more, transforming every participant into either predator or prey. It was just a matter of taste.

Just as she was about to weave through another cluster of party-goers, a firm hand clasped her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. Her initial reaction was a surge of irritation, the heat of her anger ready to bubble over. She spun around, her sharp retort dying on her lips as she came face to face with her father.

"Where are you going?" Redfred asked, forcing her to stop.

"I was looking for Orlo," she replied, her voice loud but faltering slightly under his stern gaze. The way her father's brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line made it clear that her response was far from satisfactory—it was as if she had confessed to something unspeakable. As if she had told him how ravenous she was.

Redfred's hand delved into his pocket, extracting the handkerchief Darra had crafted for her to give to Orlo. The moment she saw the fabric in his grasp, her heart sank. The realization hit her slowly, painfully, as she caught the grave concern etched across her father's features. "You'll choose someone else. Someone better," he stated flatly, his decision leaving no room for negotiation. "It's for the best."

As she reached out to take the handkerchief from his hand, her fingers trembled, and she fought to hold back tears. Shaking her head, she managed to choke, "No! I want Orlo, Daddy!"

"I will not have a Sternach in my bloodline! I will not curse my legacy with the Hexe!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, betrayed. Why was her own father turning his back on her at a time when she needed his support the most?

Redfred, sensing the rising distress in his daughter, pulled her into his arms in a rare display of affection. He whispered close to her ear, "I cannot have an heir thrown to the dragons. Whoever Orlo's child is will belong to the Drachs. Is that what you want? To have your only child taken away from you? And him thinking about another woman than you? Do you rather drag the name Dragustea through the mud?"

Muna stood enveloped in her father's embrace, her body racked with hunger and exhaustion, her emotions teetering on the edge. Despite that, Redfred's voice had a soothing quality that calmed her hunger. "You will have a Menschen husband that will give you a baby with blue blood and clean yours. You don't have much time, don't waste it."

But as her father's words began to sink in, her attention was abruptly pulled away. She looked up to see Zora coming slowly down the stairs, a sight that halted her thoughts and filled her with an immediate and deepening sense of foreboding.

The new Magi descended the stairs slowly, her gaze sweeping over the crowd below, searching for a familiar face amid the sea of strangers. With each step, the sounds of laughter and music swelled, merging with the buzz of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses. She drew a deep breath, bracing herself for the mingling that awaited her.

Midway down, however, her progress was stalled. Various creatures from the gathering swarmed around her, their voices overlapping as they competed for her attention. Offers to dance, to drink, or to steal away to quieter corners of the venue bombarded her, each proposition blending into a disorienting bluster.

Overwhelmed, Zora found herself rooted to the spot, unable to move or respond, as the multitude of voices made it impossible to discern who said what.

Just then, through the throng, an arm rose adorned with a black-blue ribbon on the wrist made its way towards her. The hand attached to it waved, gesturing with signs that Zora squinted at, trying to decipher, leaving her to guess at the intentions behind the ribbon made of the same fabric as her dress.

As they approached the stairs, the dense crowd finally gave way, allowing them a clear path and revealing Orlo.

He was visibly straining under the effort. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his arm, the one clutching his cane, trembled slightly. Yet, his discomfort was belied by the broad smile that never left his face. "It seems this lady has already made her choice, so please, sashay away and goodbye, Felicia," he declared with theatrical flair, effectively dismissing the men who had been crowding around Zora.

"I have done a good deed. I deserve apple pie!" he cheerfully declared to Zora, his spirits high despite the physical exertion. "But I can't reach it. I tried; I can't even fly over all those people just to grab a slice. How did they take over so quickly?" His tone was half-complaining, half-amused, recognising the absurdity of the situation.

"I'm still stuck on the stairs," Zora replied.

Orlo's gaze swept over her, travelling from the top of her head to her toes and back again. "You look..." He paused, searching for the right words.

"Hot?" Zora interjected with a playful grin.

"Well, it's a good word, like any other, but somewhat crass. I was thinking more..." Orlo continued, still searching.

"Gorgeous?"

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Hmm... no, I was like..."

"Beautiful?" she tried once more.

"Wow."

"I don't think that's a word," she teased, a light laugh escaping her.

"Well, it is in my book from now on," Orlo declared with a smile, taking a couple of steps to stand level with her. "You look really like... something else."

"You don't look bad either. I like to see your wings."

"So what's the plan? You want to dance?" Orlo gestured towards the bustling crowd with his cane, ready to dive back into the festivities with her by his side.

"How are we supposed to dance there? We could grab some cake," Zora suggested with a playful edge to her voice, hinting at a challenge.

"Been there, done that. It's a failed mission."

"Well, guess we can stay here and watch the fun," she shrugged.

"Or..."

"Or?" Zora looked at him curiously as he shoved his wings from his shoulders and tucked his cane under his arm. He took her hands and placed them around his neck. "Hold tight!"

With a powerful beat of his wings, they soared upward, leaving the noise and the crowd below as they flew toward the secluded rooftop of the Dargustea estate. Landing gently on the tiles, they remained in each other's arms, Orlo's fingers delicately tracing the small of her back, her arms still looped around his neck.

"I really want..." he muttered, his voice trailing off as he hesitated.

"You really want?"

"I can't say."

"Why?"

"Because someone taught me that's not how you kiss," he replied, a playful tone underlining his words.

"So, how do you kiss?" she teased, her smirk broadening.

"First, you place your hand like this," Orlo began, demonstrating by gently positioning his hand against her cheek. He let his thumb caress the area just below her eye, drawing her slightly closer. "You can caress the other person in this region with your thumb slowly, almost below their eye, and still pull them closer to you. But you need to go slow, create some... tension."

"Ah, I see. That's smart. Very wise, whoever it was that taught you," she said flirtatiously.

"Now the trick is where and how you look," Orlo explained, his gaze locked with hers. His eyes held unnamed shades that never failed to mesmerise her; she could easily lose herself in them if she wasn't already.

"What now?"

Orlo blinked, breaking their eye contact for a moment. "Well, you can see if the other person is into you."

"How, Mr Teacher?"

"The pupil dilates."

Zora nodded and quoted, "The autonomic nervous system triggers various reactions during emotions because dopamine is produced when the body expects something good, such as a slice of apple pie...or a kiss. The hormone can widen the pupil, which is actually a side effect. I know someone who thinks it is very fascinating."

"That was the most sexy thing you ever said!"

"I learned one or two things from a teacher; he's very good at what he does," she replied, her eyes still locked onto Orlo's, which seemed to spark with an unusual luminance. Feeling the timing couldn't be more right, she added softly, "I think now is a good time."

"For?"

Without a word, Zora shifted her hands from his shoulders to his cheek, her touch light yet intent. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, initiating the contact with the softness of a feather. The kiss began gently, a mere whisper of lips touching before deepening naturally. As their tongues met in a shy encounter, Orlo's arms tightened around her, pulling her closer into an embrace that melded warmth with the promise of more.

The rooftop was carpeted with golden lilies, a spectacle that, while stunning, hardly surprised Orlo anymore. As their lips reluctantly parted, a comfortable yet awkward silence enveloped them—a silence that to be ripped required more courage to voice than to simply feel.

"I don't want to go back down to the party..." Orlo finally murmured, his gaze drifting away from Zora's, unable to meet her eyes and focus, instead, on the sky to a small spot with three twinkling stars.

"Are you hungry?"

"No..."

"Thirsty?"

Orlo chuckled, a soft, amused sound. "No..."

"You're tired already?" She prodded further, her voice playful. She knew well enough that fatigue had nothing to do with his reluctance. The awkward yet endearing expression that quickly spread across Orlo's face confirmed her suspicion.

"You are... you are messing with me, aren't you?" Orlo accused, half-joking, half-serious, as he finally caught her gaze.

Zora laughed, "If you take me to a tent after I spent more than a winter stuck in one, I will... eat all the apple pie I can find!"

"So, no tent?"

"Wrong question, teacher," Zora replied, her smirk firm in place. "Try again."

"Zora, I don't trust myself to make any decisions right now."

"Your room or mine?" she asked, her expression shifting to serious.

"I just told you, I'm in no condition to make any decisions," he chuckled, his lips inching closer to hers in a playful challenge.

"Your room, then. Mine is always a mess," she decided for them, taking the lead.

Laughing and giggling like mischievous conspirators, they darted across the rooftop towards Orlo's bedroom window. They slipped inside the dark room, and their laughter echoed against the loud music.

As they entered the room and Orlo flicked on the light, his heart kicked into a higher gear, and beads of sweat began to trace new paths down his forehead. The sudden brightness seemed to amplify his anxiety attack.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes. Yes, I am," Orlo admitted, finding no use in hiding his feelings from his Hexe, who knew him too well.

"Why? It's not your first time," she prodded, her eyebrows raised in playful challenge. "Right?"

"No, no! Well, no, but... it's the first time that... I actually care." The words tumbled out awkwardly, and as soon as he spoke them, he realised how vulgar he sounded through Muna. Hastily, he tried to clarify, "I mean, I did care before... I just like, you know... it just wasn't... you."

"We don't have to... we can just... talk."

"Do you want to talk?" Orlo stepped closer. "About what?" As he spoke, his fingers delicately brushed her hair away from her neck, tracing the curve of her shoulder. He gently pulled down the collar of her dress and planted a soft kiss.

"Nothing," she barely whispered.

Her fingers fumbled with the buttons at the back of his blouse, her touch light yet straightforward. "I don't want to talk at all."

It wasn't a spur-of-the-moment rush or a wild, ferocious desire that had been simmering for too long. Instead, their movements together were characterised by a gentle tenderness.

Orlo carefully removed Zora's dress, ensuring it did not cause any wrinkles, and draped it neatly over a chair. His own clothing followed suit, with each piece removed and placed precisely beside hers.

"What are you doing?" she giggled in his ear while he was removing his socks.

"It is a really nice dress, and it is really hard to get wrinkles off this sort of pants." He replied, not holding his chuckle as he saw the ridiculousness of his manners and placed his socks folded over the desk. "I don't want to lose my underwear... cheese has become really expensive!"

They laughed but mirrored this respect in each other. Every kiss and touch was slow but so much desired, drawing them to the bed with a serene inevitability. Each gesture was deeply wanted, the kind of moment one savours slowly, like a dream from which neither wanted to awaken.

Zora sensed the contrast in their emotions clearly. While she felt a calm assurance, Orlo was nervous. His fingers trembled as they ventured with hesitant boldness, the slight quiver betraying his anxiety. With each of his kisses, she could feel the tense bob of his throat, holding a dry swallow.

"It's okay," she reassured him.

"I promise I have done this before... it just seems my brain joined the party downstairs."

Zora rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh but barely.

"What did I say? I said my brain was... You really like to mess with me, huh?" he responded teasingly, biting her lips.

Then as the laugh melted and their intimacy deepened, an unexpected shift occurred—a manifestation of the hex, the curse that Yeso Sternach had bestowed into his bloodline. Orlo tenderly caressed Zora, their connection synchronised, their responses mirroring each other's in perfect unity. Each moan from Zora was echoed by Orlo, a visceral reaction transforming their delicate desire into rawness.

Orlo's touch was as tender as knowing. His caress and kiss were heightened by an innate understanding of Zora's desires. It was as if her body communicated directly to him, each shudder and sigh marking the way to her most treasured places. His movements were not just actions but responses, resonating with every subtle cue she gave, and he could feel its reflection.

Zora's exploration was the same, especially when her fingers ventured over the delicate spread of his wings. The sensation was electrifying—her gentle strokes drew lines of pleasure that caused him to shudder, his response visibly intensifying as she arched her back in tandem with her own touch.

As Orlo finally fit himself into Zora's arms, he thrust into her, their bodies seamlessly becoming one; he leaned close; he wanted to tell her. "I love you." But instead, his breath released a soft moan.

Zora and Orlo were lost in their embrace, and the world around them transformed unnoticed. Golden blooms coated the room, their delicate petals glimmering as they spread along the facade of the Dargustea household, weaving through the architecture like a living tapestry of light.

The music faded into silence, replaced by a crescendo of voices chanting exuberantly from outside, "Muna! Muna! Muna!" Yet, none of this reached the hexed couple; their world was confined to the sanctuary they had found in each other's arms.

As they made love, oblivious to the chaos or celebration beyond their walls, they didn't see the silver light creeping through the windows. They didn't see it: the first moon of nine.

The Long Night's countdown started.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.