Shadow of the Dragon

Blog exclusively for my project Shadow of the Dragon

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

Not me hyper-fixating on worldbuilding this world (again)

Setting: Glótharey (Burning-embers island)

Inspired by: Iceland (basaltic volcanic island, arctic, minimal flora and fauna, incredible cliffs and geographical formations.

(I won't get into all of the worldbuilding of magic and food and medicine, but have some art I've been drawing of the Iceland-inspired animals.)

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

Shadow of the Dragon Chapter One

First Post || Next Part (will add link when posted)

Wind buffeted the slaver’s ship.

It shrieked through the rigging and snapped at the canvas sails above deck, each crack sharp enough to splinter the air. Gust after gust slammed into the hull, driving the vessel sideways through the swell. The mast groaned, wood bending to a limit it had never been meant to test, while the sea answered with a heavy, rolling shove beneath it.

To Unnamed-One, the wind felt furious.

There had been a time when he could read its temper the way others read faces. He would have felt the crosscurrent before it struck, tasted the shift in pressure before the sails snapped. Wind had once leaned toward him in curiosity, tugged at his sleeves in playful insistence. It had recognized him.

Now it howled past the ship without pause, as though he were insignificant.

Perhaps it was angry with him.

Perhaps it knew what happened to his magic.

The chain at his wrists shifted when the hull pitched again. Iron scraped wood. He tightened his hold on the small body in his arms before the motion could jar him.

Above deck, boots thudded.

“…Telepath’ll fetch well,” someone said. In their mind's eye, coin glittered and clinked before it ever rang into the guard's palm.

Unnamed-One tilted his head back against the curved hull and closed his eyes, letting the wood thrum against his skull. The vibration traveled through plank and rib and iron until it settled behind his temples. If he focused hard enough, he could almost pretend the resonance was an echo of what he’d lost—the familiar rhythm of pressure and release, swell and dip, the steady breathing of open sky.

He remembered what it felt like to inhale and sense the wind’s answer. To exhale and feel it shift in response. A conversation without words.

He reached inward on instinct.

A migraine stabbed behind his eyes in answer.

It began as a tightening at the base of his skull, then spread forward in branching lines as the Too Many Voices seeped in through cracks he did not know how to seal. Sailors above deck bracing against the storm. One internally cursing the captain’s stubbornness. Another thinking of the reef they’d nearly struck last season. Fear spiking sharp and metallic as the mast bent a little too far again.

“And the brat?” a guard asked, distracted from the storm.

“Will fetch a higher price, no matter the type. Young'uns are easier to whip into shape."

Unnamed-One swallowed, chains clinking as he draws his baby closer to his chest.

He forced himself to breathe evenly, though it was difficult. Wind had once filled his lungs clean and cool. This new power filled his skull instead, thick and unfiltered, dragging other people’s thoughts and emotions through him without consent.

Telepath, they called him now.

A soft whimper broke through the noise.

His gaze dropped at once.

His baby nephew blinked up at him, lashes damp, almost-black eyes too large in the lantern’s weak swing of light. Tiny fingers knotted in the ratty fabric of his tunic. The ship rocked again and the baby startled, breath hitching, eyes watering.

Mere weeks ago, sunlight had caught in those curls. Now look at them. Dark as pitch.

Unnamed-One bent his head and pressed his lips soothingly to that black hair. It was soft, despite the salt and humidity in the air.

Outside, the storm intensified.

A particularly violent gust struck broadside, and the ship shuddered from keel to tip. The hull behind his head vibrated so hard his teeth chattered. Above them, something cracked—sharp, wrong.

Fear surged through the crew in a bright, collective flare.

Unnamed-One almost laughed.

Of course Wind would rage and prove how small he was without it.

The next impact was stronger.

The mast groaned again, louder, wood fibers straining. Water struck the hull with a force that rattled the lantern hook loose. It swung wildly, throwing the hold into stuttering shadow.

The wind did not ease.

And somewhere above them, something finally gave.

Shouting.

Panic.

Wailing.

Pain stabbed behind his eyes as the Too Many Voices collapsed into one overwhelming roar. He squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught. Something warm and metallic dripped from his nose.

Seawater lapped at his chained feet.

He bowed himself over the precious bundle in his arms as his head throbbed, the edges of the world going blurred and faint.

Wind tugged at his hair, oddly gentle. A mother threading her fingers through his bangs.

Darkness took hold.

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

Baby wants uppies

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

Welcome home, love

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

biiiiiiiiiig stretch

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

We as a society need more giant monster moms experiencing ‘I don’t know what I’m doing but I love you’ parenting. Just. Yes. All of that, please!

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

Normalize giant monster wives being distracted by domestic love!!! Have her hold a tiny tiny baby. Just a potat, so cute. Baby could fit in the palm of her hand!!!

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

Your Dragon Wife (and your baby)

Shadow curls into the deepest corner he can find, knees hugged tight to his chest, bare toes digging uselessly into the stone. There is no familiarity to latch onto. No magic humming beneath his skin—no wind magic to loosen from his chest, no currents to chase and braid and calm himself with. His power is gone, cut from him so cleanly it aches like a missing limb.

Everything had been chaos and more chaos before this. Disowned. Dragged away in chains. Salt and iron and fear. A ship groaning under storm winds until the sea rose up and swallowed it whole.

And now—

Now things are at a standstill.

And he has too much time to think.

He doesn’t have his Safe People to hover near, to ground himself by proximity. He doesn’t have his routines—no familiar corridors, no set meals, no predictable schedule. Just Cave and Unfamiliar and the constant whispering of his newfound telepathy clawing louder and louder inside his head—too sharp, too close, Too Much.

He presses his hands over his ears, rocking himself. Back and forth. Back. And. Forth.

It doesn't help.

Then—

A sound cuts through the dark. Echoing against stone halls.

Crying.

A baby crying.

Shadow bolts upright so fast his head spins.

His nephew.

His baby nephew!

How—how could he forget? The only piece of his old life not torn away. The only Safe Person he has left. Small and helpless and still here.

He’s moving before the thought fully forms, scrambling out of the shadows, feet skidding on uneven stone as he follows the sound blindly. His heart pounds hard enough to drown out the whispering in his head.

He rounds a bend in the cave and skids to a halt.

Someone is there.

Tall. Slightly too tall to be an elf. The lighting paints her hair the same molten orange as Ashes’ scales, and when she turns, wings shift at her back—smaller than the dragon’s, folded close, four slender horns crowning her head. A tail flicks unconsciously behind her.

She’s definitely not an elf.

Elf-like, sure. Also dragon-like. Like she was trying to be something in-between.

Shadow’s breath stutters.

They’d been taken in by a dragon. Ashes. That name, carefully exchanged with the along with the few words they could understand between their languages. He hasn’t seen hide nor wing of anyone but her since waking here—

The patterns form a picture in his head.

It must be Ashes.

Just. A disguise?

Before he can ponder further, the baby cries again—louder this time, closer.

Shadow’s focus narrows on the lump in the woman's—Ashes'?—arms instantly.

There!

Tiny. Wrapped in cloth far too big for him. Face scrunched red with distress, fists clenched tight as he wails.

His nephew.

Shadow takes a stumbling step forward. His hands shake as he reaches out for his baby.

The world narrows to nothing but the baby in his arms—the last thread tying him to everything he lost—and for the first time since the storm, since the chains, since the darkness of the Curse swallowed his life whole—

Shadow holds his baby close to his chest, Ashes at his side.

And breathes.

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

Decompress with Your Dragon Wife

Shadow doesn’t announce himself.

He slips into the room with his head ducked low. Stringy bangs act as a meager curtain against the onslaught of Too Much.

Too much sound, too much light, too much smell. Too many thoughts rattling on in his head. Just too much.

Ashes is coiled near the far wall in her true dragon form, large and warm, a scroll the size of a wagon unfurled between her talons. When he gets close enough for her to notice, she lifts her head from her reading.

“Shadow?” she asks. While her voice is soft as it could be for a dragon, it was still toomuchtoomuchtoomuch. “Are you—”

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he approaches on silent feet and ducks beneath the folded arch of her wing. Dragonhide closes around him like a blanket, the world narrowing to darkness stitched with only the faintest ember-soft light bleeding through.

The air under her wing is hot from the fire in her core. It seeps into his bones, loosening something tight and aching in his chest. Her flank is a wall of warmth, steady and unyielding. He curls up on the floor pressed flush against it, knees drawn in and digging into her hide, his forehead resting against her scales.

The scales rasp against his skin when he shifts. They're not sharp—never sharp—but rough and textured, a feeling that grounds him. He brings his fingers up to drag along valleys and ridges beneath the pads of his fingers, following the natural rise and fall of the tapestry of her scales. Each pass sends feeling shivering up his arm, a reminder to himself that she is safe, that he is safe.

Ashes hums, doesn't ask anything more. Shadow thinks she might recognize he isn't in a state to talk. He's thankful.

Her heart beats against his forehead, deep and powerful, a slow, even rhythm that drowns out the noise still echoing in his head. Not panicked. Not upset. Steady. Ba-dump—pause—ba-dump. A tempo older than language.

Her breath plays along with its own rhythm, a warm rise and fall that moves his body almost like a babe being rocked to sleep.

Shadow exhales, relaxes for the first time in hours.

He closes his eyes and lets himself sink into her heat, into the dark, into the steady certainty of her heartbeat—until the world softens at the edges and finally, finally lets him sink into oblivion.

[faikazahaya]

Ashes and Shadow sleeping all cuddled up <3 (who needs pajamas or blankets when you have a massive furnace for a wife?)

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

When Shadow is overstimulated, the best cure is the dark, quiet hollow under Ashes' wing. He can curl up against her flank, up against the soothing rasp of her scales, and listen to her heart beating. ❤️

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

If your fantasy romance doesn’t include falling asleep on a giant dragon wifey, what are we even doing with ourselves???

Imagine: Tucked against her jaw. Curled up in her paw. Omg, sprawled on her muzzle, limbs all askew!!!

I can't get enough 😩

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

Anyway, here’s Ashes and Shadow, height difference exaggerated, because I love them and I suffer.

(I'm drawing them so much right now because I might be sick lmao)

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

Author brain says Ashes is taller than Shadow in humanoid form for "plot reasons". The plot: boobs. He's the perfect size for nestling between them ahhhhhhh I can'tttt it lives rent free in my brain!!!

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

Ppffft I just had a thought, guys I gave Ashes head horns in her humanoid form

What if I also gave her a nose horn. Just. Pointy nose 🤣

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

Okay, I had another thought about pointy noise...

I just picture her nuzzling Shadow and accidentally poking him in the eye

This design choice might be a mistake lmfao

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

Ppffft I just had a thought, guys I gave Ashes head horns in her humanoid form

What if I also gave her a nose horn. Just. Pointy nose 🤣

[shadow-0f-the-dragon]

mORE DOMESTIC DRAGON FLUFF PLEASE!!! I BEG