Chapter One: Under the Cloak The musty smell of books, a smell that Melonie Mirkana was normally very fond of, was starting to get the better of her. She had been examining these books for weeks, and today, as perusal, was approaching its sixth hour already. Not that she was averse to the subject matter, not at all! Quite the opposite in fact! Dragons were fascinating to read about regardless of the context - epics, adventurous fictions, adventurous non-fictions, dragon-mused poetry, fables and legends, journals of those who encountered dragons (and lived to tell the tale), and even draconology. It was all amazing, fantastical, and left her imagination reeling. Unfortunately....That was not what Melonie was searching for. She wasn’t here to conjure up childlike fantasies of taming a dragon to ride into battle, nor was she here to understand the lifecycle and dietary habits of a newborn Wyrmling. That was something Maven Mirkana, her twin brother, would be interested in and most likely already was aware of any ways. No, she came here in search of answer, but so far, she had been coming up empty handed. “Even a freshly hatched wyrmling was born with superior intellect and awareness, easily processing the intricacies of cause, effect, morality, and how to hunt with dangerous aptitude…” she muttered out loud, pausing to brush a lock of her untamed scarlet hair from across her eye. She exhaled, feeling mentally exhausted from all the reading. She only read the words out loud to keep her focus on the material, and not on her scattered thoughts. Momma always said she was like a cat stuck in room of strings…Her desire to read every manuscript around her at the same time had finally brought meaning to those words. She wrinkled her freckled nose as the words began to blur together for the umpteenth time. She closed the book as she sighed. Sure, Melonie was fascinated by dragons, but she lacked the focus Maven had when it came to research and the like. He could stay locked up in the family library for days, his nose buried in book after book, and he would never get bored. It was right impressive when Melonie thought about it. Then again, It wasn’t his fault that he garnered that talent, that studious nature. When they were younger, he didn’t enjoy being stuck in that hall of books, nor in the luxurious study. He was made to stay there because of his secret...Because of their secret, and maybe even a little bit of their parent’s shame. They insisted it was for his own good, and they often tried to placate him with framing his entrapment as them grooming him for a bright future in a university. They often professed to others that he was dedicated to his studies, and he wanted to bring his family name to the higher halls of education, to excuse his consistent habit of being absent from public affairs, but Melonie knew better. She knew it was because of his secret, his unusual affliction from birth. She loved her brother and often felt pity for him. She had caught many a whooping in her childhood for daring to sneak him out into the town. She never minded it though. It was always worth seeing the way his eyes lit up, and how he took in the daily raucous of town living. He was too shy and awkward to play with the kids (to be fair, they often ridiculed him and his long, concealing clothing), but he still enjoyed watching them as they acted out imaginary battles that nobody else could see. In the end, Korbal Tallfort, their designated guardian and protector, would always find them and force them back home. He would scold them something fierce, but it was nothing compared to the wrath Melonie would face from momma and papa when they got home. Maven would go back to his fairytale captivity and nobody was ever the wiser. All because of those scales, those red unnatural scales on his arm, and neck. 18 years had passed, and they were not one bit closer to understanding what it was or how to rid of it. Melonie had her suspicions though. Her brother had unusual obsession with dragons. It went far beyond the typical child wonderment of them. He studied them with the fervor of an informationally starved academic and talked about them incessantly. She felt he likely knew more about dragons than some very studied experts on the creatures, and her gut told her it had something to do with his scaly birthmark. So she too became obsessed with dragons, albeit for different reasons. She felt certain that somewhere out there, someone knew about this affliction that cursed her brother, and that someone probably also knew a lot about dragons. There had to be a book somewhere out there on some shelf gathering dust that would explain everything, and she was going to find it! She had added stops at the town bookstore to her daily outings and pestered traveling merchants in hopes of snagging a rare volume in transit. She was starting to think she would never find what she was looking for when she had a stroke of being-in-the-right-place-at-the-right-time kind of luck. As she purchased a volume on the legendary red dragons of Faerun, an older man stopped to chat with her. His name was Sidrick Beronin. He was part of an organization that studied dragons quite intently and invited her to use their resources. ...And just like that she had joined a cult. To be fair, it wasn’t immediately apparent. It was something she gradually realized as she spent more time with the members, and they, in turn, included her in more central activities. Before she even realized how deep in the waters she truly was, she found herself officially inducted at the rank of initiate. “The Cult of the Dragon” was fanatical about dragons. They practically worshipped them in most cases. Melonie was not on that level, but she did enjoy having access to their troves of information on the creatures. She had hoped that they would have answers hidden away in their studies in regards to her brother’s draconic affliction, but if they did, she had not found them. Lately, she was starting to feel uneasy. She had heard lots of rumbling among the members about a “second coming,” and a new “age of dragons.” Nobody was terribly forthcoming about the details with her, given her rank didn’t entitle her to it. This irked Melonie something fierce…She hated being left out. Still, this left her with plenty of time to keep up with her research. Days like this one, however, really tested her resolve. She was still on the last two lines she’d already read twelve times over. She sighed, closing the book. Her brain simply could not take anymore. She needed to take a break, let her mind wander for a bit. She picked up the heavy book and lugged it over to the shelf she had procured it from. The shelf that had held it was too high for Melonie, so she stepped up onto the cloth covered box she had used earlier to retrieve it. Even with this platform she still had to stretch a bit to have any hope of resetting it on the shelf space. She stretched a little higher…A little more... CRASH! Melonie lost her footing and fell backwards, bringing a cascade of books with her. She hit the cold stone floor with a thud and felt the air rush out of her chest. Book after book fell upon her, sending sharp pains throughout her body. The musty paper waterfall eventually subsided, but it was a good minute before she regained her breath. She moaned, already acutely aware of several tender areas on her body that were going to bruise. Cursing under her breath, she raised herself to a sitting position to look at the mess she had created. It was then that she saw the chest. She hadn’t noticed it before, because it has been covered with that cloth. She had assumed it was just a box to help reach the higher shelves; It had never occurred to her to look under the fabric. She moved to a crouch, dusted herself off, and then walked over to the chest for a closer inspection. It was rather plain in most aspects, but for a single latch engraved into the head of a small dragon. There was a slot in its gaping mouth that she presumed functioned as a keyhole. She reached over to give the lid a gentle tug, affirming that it was in fact locked. For a moment, she considered leaving it alone. She grabbed the cloth and started to pull it back over the chest. Then Melonie felt a nagging curiosity eating away at her already limited self-discipline. She halted, stared at the lock, and let her imagination run amok for a few heartbeats. Then she set her brow, pulled the cloth entirely off, and squatted down before the old wooden box. She quickly glanced around the room to make sure that nobody was watching. Satisfied she was alone, she slipped her hand into her pouch and retrieved a slender pick and a small wedged lever. She quickly set to work picking the lock of the chest. It took a few frustrating tries, but she shrieked with self-delight as she was rewarded with the telltale click that signified a job well done. She glanced around the room again nervously and finding herself still alone, she turned back towards the mysterious chest. Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest as she stared at it with hungry, curious eyes. Then she placed her hands on either corner of the lid and tugged, letting out a another slight shriek as it popped open after enough force was applied. She peered inside eagerly to find... …More books. At first she felt utter disappointment, but she lifted one of the packed away tomes and read the spine. “ Draconic Bloodlines in Humans and Elves,” it said. Her breath caught in her throat. Quickly she checked another, reading, “ Scales and Sorcery: The Gift of the Dragon-Sired.” Melonie had to blink back tears. These were exactly what she had needed all this time! She felt giddy inside, a newly lit fire in her gut. She scooped up both volumes and started to delve into them right then and there. Then, her eye caught another book in the chest. It was gilded with golden trim that was carved into the shape of several dragon heads arched across the cover. The title was etched into the cover in golden Draconic runes. It read: “ Glory to Tiamat!” Melonie wasn’t sure why, but that name sent a shiver down her spine. Why were these books locked in this chest? Why hadn’t Frulam told her about them? Melonie couldn’t shake the growing suspicion that these were hid from her intentionally. The only way she was going to find out was to ask Frulam herself! Frulam Mondath was a “Wearer of Purple” which meant she was of leadership rank in the cult, and as far as Melonie could tell, she seemed to hold a lot of sway and power. She had always made herself accessible to Melonie which she didn’t seem to do for other initiates. In fact, she had mentioned that if Melonie had any questions, she could always come to her for answers, and with that, she did. She gathered all three books of interest and made her way down the halls of the estate. Making her way to Frulam’s office was a decent trek down several elongated hallways which seemed all the longer hefting the newfound tomes as well, but about ten minutes later, she found it. She started to knock and enter, but stopped short when she heard voices inside. Her first thought was to come back later seeing as Frulam was clearly busy. That thought quickly vanished, however, when she heard a gruff, leathery voice suddenly speak up from within. “What about the Mirkana girl? Have you made any progress there?,” the deep voice growled. “She is never going to be of use to us as initiate. At some point she needs to become a Dragonclaw, Frulam. She needs to pledge herself to the cult.” Melonie tried to place the voice, but it was completely unfamiliar to her. Whoever it was, certainly wasn’t human. He (or she?) had an animalistic, graveled tone that gave her the impression the speaker was large and perhaps beast-like. “Patience, Rezmir. We need her to trust us. She isn’t like most of the members we’ve recruited. She needs to be groomed, eased into our ways.” She heard the voice she knew as Frulam’s say, “If we push too hard, too fast…She might flee.” There was a loud creak as Frulam leaned forward or stood up from a wooden chair in the room, and then she heard a low growl from the one called Rezmir. “My patience grows thin. Things are in motion and time isn’t something we have the luxury of wasting-” “We need her to believe as we do. To serve our Queen in earnest,” Frulam interrupted gently. “Only then can we use her to recruit her brother. Without her, we lose our chance to influence him. He is the reason we need her. He trusts her. If she trusts us, he trusts us, and he has an important role in bringing about the reign of our Queen. That must be our focus. Don’t you agree?” There was another creak of wood as Rezmir returned to wherever he had started. Melonie heard a low growl of discontent. “Of course I do, Frulam. My loyalty to our Queen is unshakeable. Questioning my clarity of duty is doing you no favors. You would do well to remember who you speak to,” Rezmir said with obvious contempt. “I meant no disrespect, forgive me. I just want what is best for the cult.” There was some shuffling of papers and a long silent pause. Then Frulam spoke again. It was quieter though and Melonie was having a hard time making out her words. Rezmir’s were loud enough. “Where is next?” “Greenest,” Frulam answered. “Preparations must be made.” Then she was speaking in hushed tones again. Melonie leaned in trying to pick up anything she could. Suddenly one of the books slipped from under her arms, and she fell forward trying to catch it. Her right shoulder hit the door, pushing it open and exposed her to the conspirators waiting inside. Frozen in motion over some papers, was Frulam in her rich purple robes. Across from her desk sat not one, but two others - an eerie looking man with tattoos, dressed in red garments and a massive black dragon-like humanoid. At first glance, it seemed to be a Dragonborn, but Melonie knew enough of them to be certain this was something else entirely. Melonie’s heart pounded as her face flushed. “I, uh, I am sorry…” She stammered as she scrambled to recover her dropped book. “I didn’t realize-…I just had a question on my studies…” She backed away slowly towards the door, looking to each of the office’s occupants. “It can wait though. I didn’t realize you had guests.” She said hurriedly. “My ma always said my tongue and hands were faster than my brain and manners. I’ll just…I’ll just go back to the library.” She prayed nobody could hear the sound of her thudding heart through her chest. Frulam eyed her for a moment - Was that suspicion?! - and then nodded. “We are almost done here. See that you come back on the hour.” Frulam said. Melonie nodded and started to leave, but Frulam spoke again. “You can leave those here initiate. No need to carry them back and forth again.” Melonie nodded, numbly placing the books on a side table. Then she slowly left the room. She walked maybe two minutes down the hall, before she broke into a sprint. She had to get out of here. She had to get to Maven. ...And they needed to go to Greenest.
