A shine had entered the golden, glistening hide of the dragon that rolled in the sands, a luminous, otherworldly glow that seemed to come from somewhere deep within. It was as if the blood than ran hot beneath her scales had begun glowing of its own accord, rushing faster and faster through her veins despite the cessation of exercise. A thick, heady smell permeated from her, a heavy musk, a scent laden with pheromones that would warn all dragons in the land just what was about to occur.

Akaith knew the smell, all too well, though normally, she identified it within herself. With a subtle chirp the little queen made herself scarce, knowing all too well the savage tendencies of a queen getting ready to rise for mating, she herself had slaughtered any females that would get in her way during her flight day. The little gold was grateful that her bondmate seemed so enraptured by the attentions of her true mate, that she neglected to get jealous, or savage towards herself - Akaith was a vain little thing, but even she was wise enough to know that a fight with her bonded would end in blood, pain, death.

Where exactly she flew was unimportant - the critical happenings at this moment was what the dragon in the sand was doing. A strange purring, a deep, vibrating hum, emanated from her chest as the bronze loomed near, his wing bowing over her, his shadow doing little to dampen the glow of her scales. Instead thousands of refractions of light reflected against the thin membrane of his wing, creating a dazzling pattern of colourful stars against a translucent, bronze canvas. With every subtle move she made, the stars above her shifted, the distance between her golden hide and his bulky bronze closing, inch by inch.

Then a sudden movement, a hunger, a craving for something she couldn't describe. The dragon shook her head from side to side, as if trying to dislodge something from her nose. A smoky snort, and suddenly her eyes snapped to the gaze of her lover. Behind them gleamed something foreign, something wild and untamed, a crimson promise of blood.

A snarl curled the lips of the dragon then, for Mirage was lost, forgotten in the body of the golden queen who would destroy all in her path, given the chance.

No.. it was a command, a will, a force that tugged upon the very soul of the beast. It came from an equally golden soul, one that directed her wild senses to a goal that would allow her to not only expel this strange energy, but to harness it so that something magnificent, and powerful could result. There was an internal argument at first, as the greater gold tried to overpower the lesser, but then her senses were flooded again, the will to hunt was instilled in her, the slitted nostrils becoming particularly sensitive to the stench of blood running through the bodies of mammals, the scaled ears tilting towards the sand dunes that camouflaged many a beast in its sparse grasses and shrubs.

Wings burst upwards from her sides, clattering against the bronze's outstretched one if he was not swift enough in retracting his own. Tail lashed violently from side to side, digging a deep trench in the creamy sand beneath her, as the powerfully huge haunches of the dragon bunched and coiled, before springing her into the air with simple efficiency. A deep, rumbling roar began from her chest, tumbling up through her maw as the DragonHeart declared her intentions across the beach. Bystanders, predators and prey alike, stood on edge, as the beast flew first high, then stretched her bodice lengthways along the shoreline, scanning the beach.

The hunger that drove her was not from an empty stomach, but rather, a fierce desire to prepare her bodice for an ordeal that would not be gentle, nor kind to her body. She needed a special kind of fuel, not that of meat and flesh, but blood, the hot, crimson liquid that was the lifeforce of all living creatures. She could smell it, in her lover, though his scent was masculine, and dragonly enough that she did not identify the equine side of him as viable, edible. What she sought now was a large, land roaming beast, one that could give her something to chase, to crush, to drink the lifeforce out of.

There, she felt the mind of her bonded brush against her own again, felt a surge of energy direct her vision to the herd of deer that skirted the edges of the beached territory, and with ease she tilted her wings towards them. They knew she was coming, they ran, but it mattered little. A young buck, a stag just approaching his prime, danced his way around his females, but he was not the only male present in this flock. To steal away the only protector of a herd would have left a sour taste in the mind of Mirage (if Mirage had been truly present anyway), but the fact that the herd was large meant that this stag, though strong and fit, was not the dominant one.

With a resounding crash, a tangle of wings, teeth, sand and shrubbery, the stag was dead. The dragon's claws left deep gashes down his sides, the blood driving her hunger to something bordering out of control, chaotic, and with a triumphant call, she made to eat the flesh within.

NO. The voice was like a brick wall, a force field preventing her from diving her muzzle into the depths of the deer's belly and gorging herself upon the hot flesh she had earned. Blood, only the blood, came the command, that willful force again causing a snarl to curl her lips, as she instead bit down upon the jugular groove of the buck's nape and drank deeply.

It was fortunate that the queen, magnificent and huge though she was, was not the size of the traditional dragons Vikram's mother was, for it would have taken several more kills for the desired affect to be reached; as more of the blood trickled down her elongated serpentine, her body seemed to shift again, into a more brilliant, deep, crimson hinted gold. It was like she was her own Sun, shining ferociously bright upon the beach of the Endless Blue.

Then, she was finished, and with little care, she discarded the carcass of the deer, with a great shove. Her nostrils flared, and now they sought out a different scent, one that would inform her of whether there were others nearby who might interfere with this unlikely turn of events, who might challenge her right to rise this day, who might satisfy the desire churning violently about within her breast. A call was made, a challenge, to the one male who she knew would be the only one able to capture her in this state, and a warning to any who might seek to ruin her.

She was airborne again, wings pounding against the sea breeze, a golden dart flying skywards, rising to meet the golden orb that hung precariously upon its throne, savage and wild, beautiful and ripe.

The DragonHeart was ready.

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