The Wickedness of The Green Dragon !

Chapter One — The Mantle’s Echo

The wind screamed across the cliffs of Thornreach as Alex stood alone at their jagged edge, the last light of evening bleeding into the horizon like a dying ember. His armor—once polished silver—now shimmered faintly green, as if the dragon’s breath still clung to it. The mantle pulsed beneath the metal, a living coil of magic wrapped around his shoulders, whispering in a voice only he could hear.

Take it all. Rule. Bend the land to your will.

Alex clenched his jaw. He had heard that whisper every night since the battle. Since the moment Yarius the Wicked fell beneath his blade. Since the moment the dragon’s emerald fire leapt from dying scales into his chest, choosing him—claiming him.

He had been sixteen then. He was sixteen now. But he felt centuries older.

---

The Weight of Victory

The kingdom celebrated him as a hero. Banners bearing his crest hung from the capital’s walls. Children carved wooden dragons and knights, reenacting his triumph in the streets. Even the king had embraced him, calling him the hope of the realm.

But hope had a strange taste now.

Alex felt it every time he walked through a village and saw people step back, eyes lingering too long on the faint green glow beneath his skin. Every time he tried to sleep and felt scales ripple across his arms before fading. Every time he woke with smoke curling from his lips.

He had slain Yarius.

Yet Yarius lived in him.

---

The Whispering Flame

Tonight, the mantle was restless.

Alex felt it coil tighter, like a serpent preparing to strike. The cliffs trembled beneath his boots. The sky darkened unnaturally, clouds swirling in a spiral of green.

He pressed a hand to his chest, fingers trembling.

“Not tonight,” he muttered. “Not again.”

The mantle answered with a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through his bones.

You are mine.

Alex staggered backward, breath sharp. He drew his sword—though he knew steel meant nothing to the magic inside him—and held it before him like a ward.

“I am Alex of Thornreach,” he said, voice shaking but firm. “Knight of the realm. Protector of the people. I will not become you.”

The mantle laughed.

A sound like cracking stone and burning forests.

---

The Green Horizon

Far below the cliffs, the kingdom stretched out in peaceful silence. Villages dotted the fields like lanterns. Rivers shimmered under moonlight. The capital’s towers rose proudly in the distance.

Alex felt the mantle’s hunger surge.

It wanted all of it.

The land.  
The people.  
The sky itself.

He felt the dragon’s memories flood him—visions of soaring above mountains, of burning armies to ash, of bending kings to their knees. Power so vast it made his heart race.

For a moment, he wanted it.

For a moment, he felt the thrill of dominion.

For a moment, he understood Yarius.

And that terrified him more than any monster ever had.

---

The First Transformation

A sharp pain tore through his spine. Alex gasped, dropping to one knee. His fingers dug into the earth as green fire erupted along his arms, scales forming in jagged patches. His eyes burned, vision tinting emerald.

“No—no—stop!”

The mantle roared inside him, a storm of fury and triumph.

Wings—ghostly, translucent—flared from his back before dissolving. His teeth sharpened. Smoke poured from his mouth.

He was becoming Yarius.

He was losing himself.

Alex slammed his fist into the ground, forcing his breath steady, forcing the fire down, forcing the scales to fade.

Slowly—agonizingly—the transformation receded.

He collapsed, trembling, sweat dripping from his brow.

The mantle hissed, displeased.

But Alex was still Alex.

For now.

---

A Knight’s Resolve

He rose unsteadily, gripping his sword. The cliffs were silent again. The sky cleared. The mantle simmered beneath his armor, waiting, plotting.

Alex looked toward the distant capital.

He could not hide this forever.  
He could not fight this alone.  
He could not trust the mantle’s silence.

Tomorrow, he would return to the king.

Tomorrow, he would confess everything.

Tomorrow, he would seek a way to break the mantle’s hold—even if it meant facing the dragon’s power again.

But tonight, he stood on the cliffs, breathing the cold air, reminding himself of who he was.

Alex.  
Knight.  
Protector.  
Not a tyrant.  
Not a dragon.

Not yet.

EKLSR&FRIENDS.

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