Chapter 3:"The Black Dragon"

For the very first time in my life, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride coursing through me. It was all because of my newfound companion, Igneel. I couldn't contain my excitement, and I proudly introduced him to the servants, boasting about my loyal buddy.

Igneel was nothing like the dragons I had seen in stories and series. He had the curiosity of a cat and a remarkable sensitivity to my words and emotion. I had yearned for a dragon for so long, and now, I finally had one.

However, my ambitions extended beyond just having a dragon. The second thing I craved was the power of magic. Both of my parents were seasoned witch and wizard, and although I had studied magic in theory, I was still somewhat afraid to wield it on my own. The records had taught me that a single mistake in magic could lead to dire consequences, even death, if the source of magic wasn't properly controlled.

In Valyria, magic was harnessed using dragons as a medium. Now that I had Igneel, I believed there was nothing holding me back. With a sense of filial piety, I approached my mother while she was engrossed in reading her magical texts. I mustered the courage to ask, "Mama, can you teach me magic?"

She looked at me with a warm smile but gently replied, "You can't practice magic just yet, my dear. Igneel is still too young."

Determined, I asserted, "No, Mama, I can do it on my own. I don't want to rely on Igneel for magic."

However, my mother's expression turned serious as she cautioned me, "My child, while magic is a wonderful art to learn, it is also fraught with danger. A single mistake can lead you down a perilous path, and you might even encounter Lord Balerion."

Disheartened by the knowledge that my mother wasn't fully supportive of my ambitions, I retreated to my room, where Igneel awaited me.

For an entire day, I found myself in a somber mood and hadn't exchanged many words with my parents and grandparents. Even Igneel, my loyal dragon companion, sensed that something was amiss. He tried his best to cheer me up, playfully jumping around and performing the most endearing antics. Eventually, I couldn't resist breaking into a smile, moved by his adorable efforts that defied the typical dragon demeanor.

Just then, my parents entered the room, diverting my attention toward them. My mother, with a teasing smile, inquired, "Why, my dear, are you smiling?" I playfully pointed at Igneel, who was still trying to make us all smile with his antics. My father, with a laugh, chimed in, "Even your dragon has an irregular sense of humor," trying to lighten the mood. However, my mother shot him a disapproving look, prompting him to quickly add, "I was just joking."

Turning her attention back to me, my mother wore a warm smile and asked, "Don't mind your papa. Can you share with me what you've learned about magic?" I didn't hesitate and began to share everything I had absorbed from the library, along with my own theories. As time passed, both of my parents transitioned from surprise to amazement and eventually to utter bewilderment.

Unable to contain her excitement, my mother embraced me tightly and exclaimed, "My dear, how did you come to know all of this?" I simply replied, "From your library, mother." Her excitement turned to her husband, and she said enthusiastically, "Our son is a genius!" My father nodded, a proud smile on his face, silently thinking, "My son is a monstrous talent. "

Filled with enthusiasm, my mother expressed her desire to conduct a magic ceremony for me. My father eagerly agreed, saying, "Of course, we'll hold his Magic ceremony next week. It's time for others to witness why we are the ruling Dragon Lords."

My father went off to meet with other Dragon Lords, discussing the ongoing war between Rhoynar and Valyrian and making arrangements for the upcoming ceremony and invitations. Meanwhile, my mother went to fetch some books to provide me with deeper insights into Valyrian magic.

For an entire week, I spent most of my time with my mother, who was diligently teaching me the art of magic and sharing her profound understanding of it. Amidst all the enchanting lessons, there was one thing that truly captured my attention—the astonishing growth of my dragon. In just one week, he had grown by an impressive 10 centimeters. It was a rate of growth that even my mother found quite unusual.

I couldn't help but draw a connection between the strength of the rider and the rapid growth of the dragon. It made sense to me that the stronger the rider, the longer the dragon would live, and the faster it would grow. So, I saw this rapid growth as a positive sign. After all, the sooner my dragon grew, the sooner I could embark on my own dragon-riding adventures.

I had already experienced the thrill of riding a dragon alongside my mother. Her dragon was a magnificent creature, resembling a colossal green serpent with wings, quite distinct from my father's robust and muscular dragon. Riding with her, I began to understand why Valyrians held themselves in such high regard. It was an exhilarating experience that left me yearning for the day when my dragon would be big enough for me to ride.

And so, with each passing day, I eagerly awaited my dragon's growth, knowing that it would bring me one step closer to realizing my dreams of soaring through the skies on the back of my own dragon.

The long-awaited day of the ceremony had finally arrived. It was an event typically held when a child turned 12, but I was only 5. Many of the elders tried to convince my parents to postpone it, but both my mother and I were resolute in our decision.

On this special day, I was dressed in a luxurious silk garment, woven from the resilient threads of lava-dwelling worms. Their unique properties made the fabric flame-resistant. As guests gathered, my parents and elders extended warm welcomes. I could sense a tinge of envy from other Dragon Lord families as they greeted me. My mother maintained her graciousness, though I could tell her heart was dancing with joy.

What struck me as odd was the absence of children my age among the guests. Most were over the age of 12. Finally, the ceremony was set to begin. After my father delivered a gracious speech, my mother led me to the altar. With a Valyrian knife in hand, she instructed me to follow her lead. Two servants brought forth slaves from Rhoyne, intended for sacrifice in the Magic ceremony—an aspect that caught me off guard that I haven't known.

Before us stood the two slaves, their expressions pleading. One was an elderly man, the other a boy perhaps seven or eight years older than me. To my horror, my mother swiftly ended the elder man's life, and the ground was stained with his blood. With a chanting spell, she summoned a towering pillar of fire into the sky from her hand, a display of formidable magic. It was a side of her I had never anticipated, shattering the kind and gentle image I held in my heart.

She extended the knife to me, but I hesitated. The blade bore a trace of blood, and my eyes met the tearful, sweating gaze of the boy. Without second thoughts, I cast the knife aside .My mother, filled with concern, asked me, "Baby, what are you doing?" With my childlike voice, I declared loudly, "My way is different, mother. I can't take the lives of the innocent to show my weakness." Then, with even greater determination, I proclaimed, "Because I am a Dragon."

Flames began to swirl around me, and I began murmuring a spell. My mother tried to stop me, but it was already too late. All I heard her say was "Vahaemorys, noooo..." In that moment, I summoned a colossal pillar of fire, not from my hand, but from my very breath. It illuminated the entire city with a dazzling, blood-red flame.

The dragons in the city and sky all hailed my presence, their roars echoing throughout. It was then that my identity shifted, transforming from The Irregular to The Black Dragon, a name that would resonate through the ages.

After the flames faded, I lost consciousness, and my mother caught me as I fell.