So, not a vampire.

Erika thought as she now stood with her back to a tree, facing the festivities before her but lost in her mind.

A powerful sorcerer who controls dark magic and is highly trained in the martial arts? He even spoke of knowledge in leading troops. Yet even he does not know where Lano comes from. Not of this world, that is for sure, Lano is not from here. Yet that could also be useful…More so since, he seems to know what…I am.

She contemplated for long moments, long after Gray left to join the drinking with Drun and Dust.

Sighing, Erika left her post to roam the camp, watching the games and activities the Lycans partook in. From drinking games based on questions and dares, matches of competing strength, and a strange mixture of dancing around a bonfire with a long aflame stick held anywhere upon thy person. Anyone who dropped the stick or had the flame snuffed out, was booed away and back into sitting. She paused to watch this event.

Some simply waved the blaze around, whilst many carefully twirled it about their body, some even juggled the sticks by spinning them back and forth with another.

A chaotic yet mystical display of dexterity and acrobatics, it briefly hypnotised Erika from looking away.

The chuckles and laughs of the watchers, the smiles and sneers of the dancers, the grumbles and groans of the losers.

Erika could not get her mind off of it, that only in a few days, all these people’s expressions will be much different than what they are now.

Will I hear chuckles and laughs? Or will they be screams and bellows? Will I see smiles? Maybe sneers, maybe just grimaces and tears.

Sighing at the thought, Erika walked away, away from the cheers and laughter, away from the festivities and to the other side of camp.

She needed some silence and solitude to get her thoughts together.

Some moments of clarity, as she found herself alone, yet the sounds still echoed in from afar.

But it was enough, Erika sat down on a crate in a dark corner, then took out her dagger.

Passing her fingers over the strange blade, feeling the connection, feeling the magic which surged through it. Magic which also surged through her, widening the connection and activating the blood within the metal.

The blade shattering into dozens of shards, widening and expanding three times the length, as blue veins held them to the hilt.

The weapon radiated with energy, her energy.

But it was not his.

This power, it was nothing like her father’s, more so like her mother’s.

“So…I know what I half am, but I cannot call upon it. What I can call upon, I don’t even know why or how.” Erika mused to herself.

You are Drago, no?

Erika quickly rose up to the voice, wielding her dagger forth and glancing around searching for the source.

Drago?

The voice asked once more, Erika now realising it was permeating itself into her mind.

Turning around and about, she finally paused to stare at a large cage nearby, out of which came a steady rhythm of breathing. Too dark to see what lay within, she carefully approached it.

A low growl came to her in response, Erika stopped her approach, now five feet away from the cage she barely made out the creature’s silhouette. Much larger than herself, the beast was furred and four-legged and with a long tail. Currently curled up on itself, seemingly resting, until she took a step closer.

A bright violet eye opened up, staring deep into her.

Are you not Drago? Are you not I?

The beast asked into her mind, uncurling and rising into a sitting position, both eyes now wide open and staring down at her through the thick bars which separated them.

“I-I am a Dragon…” Erika replied.

The creature huffed.

You are Drago, but not all, not all Drago. Even I, I am not all Drago.

Remembering what these beasts were, “A Draem,” Erika nodded, “Yes, we are very similar, you and I.”

The Draem’s eyes narrowed, large violet sockets with pitch-black slits at their center.

They come for you.

It said, Erika lowering her dagger, but not her alert senses.

“Who comes?” She asked, “And why me?”

Others, like the other half of I. I hear their whispers, I hear their grumblings. They come for you, they seek you, for their master. Run, run you must. You cannot fight the masters.

“Masters…The Demon Lords?” Erika asked.

They do not come. They send minions. They send allies. They send the blood hungry.

The Draem replied, turning its gaze to stare over the camp and at the mountain which rose near.

“What…are you?” Erika asked, and briefly the beast glanced at her, before looking back on to the mountain.

I am like you, yet worse. I am beast, I am Drago…I am demon. I am outcast to all.

It explained, glancing then over to the rest of the cages.

We all are.

Erika followed its gaze, watching as several dozen more violet eyes lit up, all staring straight at her.

“Why do you not try to escape then? Can you not?” Erika asked.

Where would I…Where would we go? We have nowhere, no den, no home. These cages, these are home.

The beast said.

“Not even back to hell? Are you not part demon?” Erika mused.

And the Draem shook its head.

We are outcast to all. The forest pushes us out, the walking beasts call us monsters, and both our brothers who can hear us, call us abominations. Neither wish us to be.

“Just…because you are not fully one?” Erika asked, her tone growing with anger.

Just because, we are both, but neither. We are the same, you and I, but we are different too. You are out there…We, we are in here.

The Draem replied, calmly bumping its forehead into the cage’s bars, revealing its dirty black fur, its short snout and the dark grey reptilian scales beneath.

“These people…” Erika glanced back to the festivities beyond the tents, “They’ve treated me well.” Turning then to the Draem, she raised her hand, pressing it against its snout.

She felt it then, like a spark of energy coursing out of the beast, into her and then back. The same connection, the same feeling she had with her father.

A Draconic connection.

“But they’ve done nothing but treat you wrong.” She then said, grabbing hold of the bars, she poured her mana into them. The runes which lay on the ground then pulsed, a quick and brief flaring of mana, and suddenly the bars which kept the beast separate from her turned to dust.

The Draem’s eyes went wide and it huffed in confusion.

Why? You owe us nothing.

It asked cautiously, distrusting by nature.

“We are bound by blood, and Dragons do not abandon the bonds of blood.” Erika said, yet her words seemed coming from memory. “My father once told me that too.”

The Draem’s eyes seemed to calm, as it carefully took one step out, its three clawed foot pressing into the dirt next to Erika as she stepped aside for it.

Meeting the creature’s eyes, Erika nodded, urging it forward.

A sensation filled Erika’s mind then, a language yet not, no words were spoken but she understood none-the-less.

Trust.

As the beast stepped out of the cage which once held it, Erika turned to the rest, going from cage to cage, she freed the rest.

Twenty or so Draems now stood free, yet neither moved another step.

“You…don’t know where to go, do you?” Erika asked, and the first Draem shook its head. “We are headed towards battle, you should go the opposite direction, then deep into the forest. The forest may push you out, but you must stand strong. Push back, make your stand. You are Dragon, each and every one of you, have pride in that.”

The Draem glanced at its companions, then back at Erika before nodding.

Thank you.

It said, looming several feet above her, it leaned down, pressing its snout to her face.

“Go, find your path, as I must find mine.” Erika told them, when a flickering light nearby caught their attention, “Go now.” She said, and each Draem rushed off, surprisingly silent for beasts of their size, they lurked through the tents in the dead of night, before disappearing into the forest beyond.

Erika turned to the lights, as from around the corner Thorn stepped out.

“What you just did,” His solemn gaze meeting hers, “Some could see it as treason.”

“Would they?” Erika asked, her narrowed glare like sharp ice.

“Calm yourself,” Thorn then said, “I’m not gonna turn you in…Instead let’s make a deal.” He said, as Erika stepped to the side to get a better view of him, just now seeing the backpack across his shoulder and the leashed beast of burden behind him.

“You’re running away.” Erika mused.

“Let’s…not put it that way.” Thorn said with a groan, “I’m surviving.”

“However you wish to put it.” Erika added, “But why?”

“Why? W-Why huh?” Thorn anxiously chuckled. “We’re headed to fucking war.” He then said with a jittery tone. “And after hearing that the Darkmane…Our Alpha’s own family, have ran off too? Why? Why should I stay? Why should I follow a man whom his own blood has abandoned him, into bloody battle no less?”

“Lizbeth? No way sh-” Erika tried to say in surprise.

“Oh, Oh they did. Off they went to Shallow Creak!” Thorn said with a shaky chuckle, “They saw something…something they kept to themselves!” Thorn then exclaimed. “Fucking shamans, and our Alpha…He must’ve seen it too, but he’s gone mad. He doesn’t see that we can’t win this coming battle, that or…He doesn’t care. He’s lost it, clutching on frantically to his position, helplessly trying to hold on.”

“Is that, really how you feel?” Erika asked. “I-” Her eyes then went wide as her entire body froze.

A moment after, Erika rushed at Thorn startling him and he reached for a weapon, she reached him before he could. Slamming him into the nearby stack of crates and shutting his mouth closed. Powering down her dagger and sheathing it, Erika made a motion for him to be silent.

“What did you sense?” Thorn whispered, knowing his sense of smell and hearing caught nothing out of the ordinary.

“Blood.” Erika said, but it wasn’t a scent…No, Erika sensed blood nearby, a rather strong sensation of energy which…put the word blood into her mind.

Leaning into the crates, both of them watched and listened, as the shadows on the other side of the camp seemed…to be moving.

“We have found you, Dragona!” A screech then hissed out from above them, as three Imps leaped down, cornering them amongst the crates.

“Demons!” Thorn exclaimed, as his mount hissed in return.

“In the name of Lord Xokith,” Another voice said from above, as the sound of metallic footsteps approached from over the caravan’s roof. Suddenly one metal clawed foot stomped down onto the roof’s edge, the other lagging behind, as above them now stood a darker-skinned Imp.

Both legs and arms made of a strange dark metal, releasing silent wisps of steam as they moved.

The Imp’s pitch-black eyes settled upon them both, “You will die Dragona, by the hand of the 3rd Lesser Legion’s General Trix!” It hissed out, drool leaving its black fangs as it salivated over this moment.