Behind every Legend Lies Truth…
Kado, a young boy obsessed with tales of dragons, finds himself fighting a war waged since the beginning of time. Entangled, he must choose between those legendary beasts and the vampires who would consume their blood.
Dragons and vampires continue their war to this day, ancient titans locked in a struggle to dominate mankind. Dragon Thirst is the story of their bloodlines, of variants who emerge as legendary heroes and foes. They walk among us.
Discover the truth about the world in which you live, a world where dragons are hunted by the horrors you fear!
This is the story of their legacy, how titans hide among humans, steering our lives while committed to the total destruction of their rivals. These bloodlines war to this day. Cloaked by shadow, they commit their actions in secret. It tells of the forms they take, both awe inspiring and terrifying, and how humans have ignored their existence... until now.
Behind every Legend Lies Truth…
Kado, a young boy obsessed with tales of dragons, finds himself fighting a war waged since the beginning of time. Entangled, he must choose between those legendary beasts and the vampires who would consume their blood.
Dragons and vampires continue their war to this day, ancient titans locked in a struggle to dominate mankind. Dragon Thirst is the story of their bloodlines, of variants who emerge as legendary heroes and foes. They walk among us.
Discover the truth about the world in which you live, a world where dragons are hunted by the horrors you fear!
This is the story of their legacy, how titans hide among humans, steering our lives while committed to the total destruction of their rivals. These bloodlines war to this day. Cloaked by shadow, they commit their actions in secret. It tells of the forms they take, both awe inspiring and terrifying, and how humans have ignored their existence... until now.
A pair of eyes blinked open finding only darkness. Aching muscles suggested the owner of these eyes had spent too long in fetal curl. He felt around the cramped surroundings, caged by sticky walls that squeezed tightly. The smoothness of the barrier seemed foreign, its substance a mystery, neither ridged like wooden boards nor pitted as stone would have been. This prison seemed different, so much so the prisoner panicked.
His nails had grown long during slumber but were not brittle. He scraped them against a sticky palm, pressing and testing their strength. They felt sharper somehow, ridged for the task. Shifting his body the best he could, he first scratched then clawed, finally chipping away at the layer between him and freedom.
Lightheadedness slowly crept in, resembling panic, and the man soon realized he lacked air. Stifling suffocation fueled him to chip faster at the prison wall. Prison? This now felt more like a tomb.
His nails throbbed from his efforts so he ceased chipping. Instead he punched, swinging his arm the best he could while curled so tightly. Tap. Tap. Tap. The effort proved futile but he refused to stop. He had to get free or he would die from lack of air. With one final push his hand felt the wall give just enough. Tiny cracks formed where his energy had focused.
His nails went to work at once, tearing and ripping, trying to pry these cracks wider. Eventually, he managed to break away a single section no bigger than his palm. Pressing an eye against the opening he stared out, finding more darkness waiting outside.
He breathed stale air through the tiny hole and rested, exhausted by the effort but no less deterred. He would free himself. After a few minutes he tried again, this time finding the cracks easier to break away. Slowly, the opening grew. Eventually, the man slipped free.
His strength fully expended, he lay on cold stone, sticky, naked, and coated with moisture. He breathed slowly with lungs eager for air. Sleep took over…
“Wake up!” a woman’s voice commanded.
He stirred but found it difficult to move. Every muscle hurt.
“I know you’ve awakened early,” the woman said, “but danger comes, and you won’t be able to defend yourself.”
The man stretched, his muscles aching from cramps. He expected weakness. How long have I been trapped? he wondered. But somehow his muscles had not atrophied. He rolled to his belly and tried to get onto all fours. His hands were coated with that residue and caused him to slip. His face landed hard against the stone. He blinked his eyes, unseeing in the blackness. He tried to speak, but no words came.
“Easy now,” the woman’s voice cautioned, tenderly but not without authority. “You’ve only just awakened, and your body has changed. It moves differently than it did before. Go slowly and let it adjust.”
He put one hand against the ground followed by the other, wiping his palms before getting onto his knees. To his surprise his hips and core muscles held him upright. He drew in a deep breath before trying to stand.
“But don’t go too slowly,” the voice urged. “We cannot fight so many and must flee.”
“Who…” his voice tested the air around him while his mind struggled for words. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Who I am doesn’t matter. Not yet. What matters is who you are. Do you remember anything at all?”
Dragons. The word echoed in his mind, followed by another. Vampires.
“What of the war?” the woman pressed. “Do you remember why you transformed?”
Images fluttered around, disorganized thoughts popping up as memories or imaginations. He had no way to distinguish which. Slowly, some of these came into focus.
“I… I don’t even know who I am,” the man whispered.
“That’s normal,” the woman promised. “When I awakened, I felt that way for several hours, with some memories not returning for weeks after. Even now, years later, I am still discovering the knowledge with which we were entrusted.”
“Who are you?” the man weakly demanded.
“You will have to discover that in time, along with your own memories. Anything I tell you now may confuse facts as you once knew them. But I promise you will know all this and more very soon. Reach to your right,” she told him, “and you will find a bucket of water and rags. Drink from it first, then use the rest to cleanse your body of the yolk.”
Yolk? Had his prison been an egg?
The idea felt so foreign but seemed to fit with the images he had imagined. Picking up the bucket, he drank deeply, then set it down and picked up the rags. He wished for light so that he could see his body as he wiped it down.
It did feel different than he expected. His muscles, body hair, all of him seemed to belong to someone else. Even his thoughts belonged to someone else.
“After you are clean, feel to your left and find the clothing I laid out for you. It may seem strange at first but put it on the best you can. We can adjust it later.”
He put down the rags and felt around the stone to his left. Several folded garments were placed in a pile, and he put them on in the order he found them, touching the openings and guessing to which part of his body they belonged. The last items he found was a pair of leather boots. The smell brought forth new images. He let these cycle through, then pulled on the footwear.
“I’m sorry we have to move so soon before you’re ready,” the voice said with a hint of sincerity, “but a battle rages at the entrance to this cave. We cannot leave that way, but I know of another.”
The man felt two soft hands grab his own and allowed the stranger to pull him onto his feet. She helped steady him, then pressed an object into his hand.
He felt the leather sheath, smooth and soft, and squeezed the hard object within. It felt like a blade and drew it slowly across his finger to feel the edge. It was a mistake given the soft state his skin was in, and a tiny trickle of blood warmed the coolness of his hand.
“Careful!” the woman hissed. “Tie it to your waist and let’s be gone.”
His hands fumbled in the blackness, cramped and bruised from breaking out of his prison. I hatched out of an egg, he thought, his mind filling with an image of row after row of eggs lining the walls of some distant cavern. This, he was certain, was also a memory. As soon has he had tied the knot, the woman grabbed his hand and led him away.
“Don’t worry,” she said, pulling him into a passage. “Your eyes will recover, so will your mind, faster even. By the time we reach the surface you will see clearly.”
At her words, he realized the darkness clouding his vision was actual blindness. He felt a surge of panic jolt his heart. It beat faster. He was afraid, then, that the woman’s voice would lead him away and then leave him lost and alone in these caverns. Yet, at the same time, her voice had a familiarity. He felt both fear and trust for this woman, whoever she may be.
The tunnel she led him through grew lower. Soon she told him to duck. He found himself crawling on his hands and knees through narrow passages, following her voice. Despite his worries she never left him and eventually led him to a cool breeze and the soft sounds of nature.
Together, the pair approached the surface. In the distance a soft glow had formed in front of his eyes, suggesting moonlight waited ahead. As promised, his eyesight gradually strengthened and he soon made out the woman who led him. She was beautiful, in her late twenties with long black hair and pale skin. Her eyes, he noticed, were a fierce crimson and seemed oddly wrong. For some reason he had expected them to be blue. When they reached the opening, she turned with a sad look as if holding a dark secret, she yearned to tell it. She managed a brief smile filled with worry.
“We’re almost there,” she said as the passage grew enough they could once more walk upright. “Keep your blade ready just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” he asked, hoping the visions flashing in his mind were not the reason she feared. These foul creatures were hideous, gaunt with oversized bones and skin stretched as if it were grey leather drying on a rack. They grinned at him with pointed fangs that cut their lips, leaving tiny trails of blood along their chins.
“You’ll know them when you see them,” she said.
“I think I do somehow, I just don’t know the name for them,” he admitted. Then a word reached his mind, bringing with it vile repulsion. “Is it voltur?” he asked.
“Very good,” the woman said proudly. This time her smile lingered. “It won’t be long until you fully remember your other form.”
Other form? So, he had not just been hatched, not as an infant it would seem. Whatever he had hatched from was more like a butterfly’s cocoon instead. “Is that what I just did? I emerged from a cocoon?”
“In a way.”
“What am I then?” he asked. He felt like a man.
“You are what you chose,” she replied curtly, “and I won’t explain any more until you remember the rest on your own.”
He fell silent, considering her words. No matter how hard he tried to make himself, the memories remained hidden from that remembrance. He thought instead of the voltur, visualizing them sleeping with arms crossed and eyes closed. One by one he drew a strange blade, stabbing them in the chest and staring into the swirling pools of blood which were their eyes.
Another thought made itself clear, a vision of a larger, more humanoid version of the creatures. These had long leathery wings, the same fangs, and, most disturbingly, the same bloody orbs for eyes. “Vampure,” he said suddenly.
“Yes, those too,” she agreed.
A strange feeling overtook him, a sense of déjà vu more than a vision or a memory. He felt it more than he saw or thought it, and suddenly exclaimed, “There’s one close by.”
“What?” The woman spun to look at him. “Why did you say that?”
“I don’t know, I just… I feel a presence that my mind faintly remembers.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” she quickly snapped.
Finally, she had answered one of his questions, even if she hadn’t meant to give herself away. “So, we can feel them?” he asked. “I’m not imagining this feeling?”
“Of course not. What you’re feeling must be confusion in your mind, memories mixing with imagination as the visions settle themselves out.”
“So you can’t feel them?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. As great an ability that would be, no. We can’t feel vampure any more than they can sense us.” The irritation in her voice had grown. Whoever she was, this woman lacked patience and seemed full of resentment.
“Well, I swear I can,” the man pressed. And he could, as a nagging sensation he couldn’t shake off. Her silence said enough, and he dropped the issue, stepping out from the cave into the cool night. Taking in a deep breath, he let the clean air fill his lungs, replacing the mustiness that reminded him now of imprisonment. He was free, thanks to this woman’s help, free to walk the surface. But where? he wondered. Nothing except the moonlight seemed familiar.
The land stretched out for many miles in all directions, mostly flat, but rugged and rocky. Off in the west and south, the land folded and rose into soft hills that seemed chiseled by angry giants. Most surprisingly, there were no snowcapped mountains anywhere.
“It’s odd,” the man said. “This place is different than any vision I’ve seen since awakening. It’s like I emerged on a different planet.”
“Yes,” the woman agreed. “I thought so too when I stepped outside.”
“You hatched like I did?”
“I did, but there was no one to help me. I crawled out naked, terrified, and had to wander the caves alone until I found help.”
“Why?” the man asked. “Why me? Why come back to help me, and how did you know I would hatch?”
“Awakened” she corrected. “Stop saying hatch like you were just born.”
“Okay, how did you know I would awaken when I did?”
“You weren’t supposed to, not yet. But I needed your help and so I hurried you along.”
“Why? What’s so dire that you woke me? Was it those creatures I imagined? Those voltur?”
“Yes, them and the vampure.”
“What are they?”
“Look, I awakened you early, but I can’t tell you anything about your past. You have to figure the details out on your own, or what I say will taint the truth you gained during transformation.”
The man considered this. So far he trusted the woman, but she seemed to be in such a hurry. He looked around. There were no voltur, none of the vampure either. Only miles of open land and a soft glow on the distant horizon. “What’s that?” he asked. “Is something burning in that direction?”
“No, it’s a city.”
That made no sense, not with such a bright light emanating across so many furlongs. It spanned a thousand or more, at least.
He turned to look at the woman once more, to take in her face in hopes it spurred some memories. But he only saw worry. It drove her, guiding her to rash decisions like waking him early and rushing out the back exit of a cavern.
How do I know she speaks honestly? he wondered. How could he know if any of her words carried truth? He woke up, hatched, and she was there. She had brought him these strange clothes and this blade. He touched it reassuringly. At least he was armed in case something went wrong. He didn’t even know her name, yet she talked about monsters attacking and a battle raging at the main entrance.
The man paused, listening to the night sounds. If a battle were being fought nearby, I would hear its clanging of steel and blowing of horns. Wars are always quite noisy, he knew that much, even if he could not remember his name, the name of his home near the mountains, or how he came to hatch from an egg.
“Prove it,” he suddenly said, setting his feet firmly on the ground and drawing his knife from its sheath.
“Prove what?” the woman demanded, eyeing his blade cautiously.
“Prove there is a battle. Take me to it and show me on which side you fight. Perhaps you are tricking me, fighting against my allies.”
“Allies?” the woman laughed. “You have no allies here except me.”
“Then who fights the battle?”
She paused, looking around as if scanning the shadowy hills, but ignored his question. “This way,” she finally said, pointing toward the glowing horizon.
“No.” The man turned, walking the opposite direction.
“Come back!” the woman hissed, her voice commanding authority.
Her tone stirred another flash of images, of a small cabin in a tall forest, flanked by mountains on all sides. In it a girl and a boy argued, their voices carrying out into the night, dampened by steady rainfall that washed away everything but the siblings’ anger.
Slowly, the man turned, his eyes full of shock as dozens of memories flooded in at once. He stared at his sister, entranced by her eyes now swirling like pools of blood, and lost himself in the horrors he suddenly remembered.
Behind her, a metal carriage topped the ridge, kicking up a cloud of dirt as it approached. It needed no horse to pull it, the thing was a metal beast of its own with two glowing eyes and four black wheels that sprayed rocks while skidding to a stop. Inside, a man leaned over and pushed open a door. He shouted something in a foreign language. It sounded odd, a blend of the rough Germanic spoken by Anglo-Saxons, but with hints and undertones of Latin.
“Speak Gaulish so he understands!” the woman commanded the newcomer.
“Get in!” the man said with only the slightest of accents. “They’re coming!”
“You have to help me, Vince!” the woman pleaded. “He’s remembering everything all at once!”
“Excellent timing,” the man named Vince muttered, climbing from the vehicle and running to aid the woman. “Come on, kid,” he urged. “It’s gonna be a long night!”
Kado dreams of dragons, legendary beings that bond with select humans in incredible ways. But with his sister Briaca bossing him around, his father at war, and a harsh winter settling in, life isn't nearly as fantastical as his dreams. Everything changes when Lars, a wicked man who harasses the poor city of Cardac, captures Briaca. Kado escapes and is thrust into an adventure driven by fear and revenge. Along the way, he is helped by mysterious Argant the Storyteller who shows him that dragons--and their sworn enemies, the vampure--are more than just myths. As Kado discovers more about these legendary beings and meets both friends and foes, he realizes that some things are more important than revenge--and he uncovers that many things he takes for granted are not as they seem.
Dragon Thirst: Legends by T. B. Phillips introduces a captivating fantasy world that builds upon itself throughout the story. Though the worldbuilding is heavy in such a short book, the writing is direct, easy to read, and engaging. The story is unique, melding familiar elements like dragons, vampires, and even the Roman Empire to create a memorable, one-of-a-kind story.
One of the shining aspects of Dragon Thirst: Legends is the use of settings. The author masterfully utilizes settings such as a snowy winter's day in such a way that they shape the characters and further the plot. These kinds of details make the story all the more real and interesting. The dialogue in this book is also good, sounding natural and engaging.
However, though the author excels in these areas, there are some issues with the book. Firstly, it is not very well-edited and contains misspelled words, formatting errors, grammar mistakes, etc. Secondly, the plot moves far too quickly, which makes Kado's growth feel unrealistic. It seems like the book should be much longer to properly flesh out the story that the author sets up in the beginning. Finally, and most importantly, there is a disconnect between the reader and Kado, the main character. Kado doesn't react to huge emotionally charged moments in the book until after the fact and sometimes not at all, making both scenes and characters feel flat. In addition to inconsistencies, leaps of logic, and ill-placed moments within the plot, these factors will make this book less enjoyable for some readers.
But for those fantasy lovers who are looking for a quick read with some solid worldbuilding, Dragon Thirst: Legends is a good choice. It isn’t perfect, but the overall story is captivating, especially for readers who love discovering new dragon lore. It's a unique book that will have readers eagerly turning page after page.