Prologue

The moon extended its long silvery fingers of moonlight across a silent desert plain. Blades of dry grass swished gently as a breeze passed through them. The only sound heard were the thumping feet of a horse and its rider galloping through the parched sand, a trail of dust billowing behind them.

Far in the distance behind him specks of light could be seen from thousands of campfires and torches of a waiting army. His job was to deliver a message from their battalion leader. Ahead of him lay seemingly nothing; just a bare expanse of land, until it ended abruptly at a sheer cliff face where a mighty waterfall crashed down and gathered into a huge lake, which eventually streamed off into rivers and brooks.

His steed reached the pounding water and as he brought it to a halt he yelled out.
"Show yourself Jarrik! Surrender and you may live to see another day; refuse and mighty Vixelas will exterminate you all herself!"

At first there was no response. Then a booming roar echoed from the waterfall.
"We shall not give in to Vixelas's demands!" shouted the voices of a thousand unseen people.
The shining waterfall parted and a figure emerged from behind the falling water, and stepped onto a large stone situated in front. As he passed through the thin sheet of liquid, his hood was knocked back to reveal a pointed face of grey fur, catlike ears with small tufts at their tips, twisted horns protruding from his forehead and glowing, blue, snakelike eyes; a Psikani.

"Zurosh," muttered Jarrik, his slitted blue eyes narrowing at the rider.
"Don't be foolish Jarrik," hissed Zurosh, his green eyes flashing and his horse snorting restlessly. "Surrender, and do so quickly; Vixelas is not known for her patience."
"I will never surrender to the likes of you," growled Jarrik, his deep voice calm but strong with pride.
"Then you have doomed yourself," snarled Zurosh. Jarrik shook his head. "It is your doom and not ours. You shall fall with your master against the power of the freedom-loving peoples!"
As as he finished his declaration, the pool of dark water beneath his feet rippled and swirled and a huge, scaled blue head burst out of the shimmering liquid. The dragon roared and pulled the rest of her body out from the water. She had deep blue scales with webbed feet and a powerful tail built for speeding through water. A beard of webbed spikes surrounded her face and her smoldering yellow eyes glared at Zurosh.

"River wraith!" exclaimed Zurosh and quickly turned his horse, whipping it to get it to run faster from the terrifying dragon. The river wraith gave chase, and as the blue dragon leaped out of the deep pool, Jarrik sprung onto her shoulders. At another thunderous roar, the rest of the rebels followed their commander into battle, ready to meet their enemies head on in a dangerous battle. From the other side, thousands of warriors raced towards the rebels, alerted by the dragon's roars.

The two groups soon met in a terrific clash. The loud sounds of swords clanging against swords, arrows embedding themselves into flesh, and maces shattering wooden shields filled the air, along with the shrieks and screams of those who suffered agonising wounds.

Thousands of warriors tumbled and fell, screaming from wounds they would soon die from, but the battle raged on and the wounded's cries went unheard and unnoticed.
"Sentera we must find Vixelas, else this battle is useless," urged Jarrik to the river dragon he was perched on. Sentera and Jarrik charged through the battle slaying all in their path, the dragon with her claws and teeth and the psikani wielding his silver sword. An earsplitting roar echoed from the horizon, distracting them, as a large, black dragon appeared with a young red furred psikani, much like the the river wraith's rider and the many warriors who battle around, sitting astride him.

The dark dragon roared again and dived out of the sky to fight Sentera. She leaped to the side, out of the way, but was unable to move quickly enough and the black dragon's crimson claws dug deep gashes in her left flank.
"Jarrik, I see you have discovered the river wraith," said the red furred Psikani, her long crimson hair fanning out behind her. Jarrik narrowed his eyes, as did Sentera.
"Vixelas," he hissed. "And you have enslaved a shadow wraith," he growled. The black dragon lifted his head, letting out a menacing growl.
"I am no slave, filth," he snarled, blasts of choking smoke erupting from his nostrils. Vixelas smirked.
"Easy Aryek. I am giving you one last chance to give up, Jarrik," she said.
"I stand by my decision," answered Jarrik, baring his pointed teeth.
"Then you are finished!" shrieked Vixelas and Aryek launched himself at Sentera, his scarlet fangs snapping around her throat and crunching against her windpipe. Sentera wrenched herself out of his grip and retaliated, rearing onto her hindlegs and slamming her claws down upon the smaller dragon's side. Aryek attacked again and again, each attack growing more powerful than the next. Sentera answered each attack with equal strength.
The fierce battle raged on until red streaks filled the sky as the twin suns rose. The river wraith and the shadow wraith sprang apart for a moment, after a fierce grapple with their fangs and talons, both panting from their exertion.

"You are a mighty warrior Jarrik," said Vixelas, her scarlet sword covered in dripping blood from the battle, "but not the mightiest." And with that, she leaped from the black dragon's back with unnatural speed and agility toward the blue dragon, and beheaded Jarrik before he could move a muscle.

Sentera's screech mingled with the yells and screams of the rebel warriors as they watched their commander fall. Many dropped their weapons in shock and began to retreat to safety, now leaderless and spirit-broken. Vixelas's soldiers chased them, sensing victory, cutting down all they could reach, as the crimson sky mirrored the ruby blood now staining the earth below.