Chapter 42: The Birth of the Dragon Clan

The sky was streaked with orange and crimson as the sun dipped low over Skull Island. I stood on the high stone that overlooked the valley of ponds, dens, and open skies—the heart of what we had built. Dragons filled the skies around me, gliding in spirals, perching on ridges, circling with cautious curiosity.

My mate stood beside me, wings folded, her expression calm and strong. Our eldest son stood on my other side, flanked by his own mate and their hatchlings. All around us, the dragons gathered—those born here, and those who had arrived over the years, drawn by the scent of fire and fish, by the whispers of a thriving home.

They were watching me now.

Waiting.

It was time.

I raised my head and let out a roar—not of rage, not of threat, but of call and command. The sound echoed across the land, rippling through trees and caves and skies.

When the sound faded, I spoke.

"I let many of you stay here," I began, my voice loud, strong, but calm. "Some of you came from far away, drawn by fire and fish. Some of you were born here. This land fed you. Sheltered you. Protected you."

No one spoke. No one moved.

I looked down at the younger dragons clustered near the water, then at the cliffside homes we had built together.

"And I allowed it," I continued. "Because I believe in more than just surviving. I believe in building. In protecting. In family."

I looked each of them in the eye, one by one. "But survival cannot exist without order. That's why, from this day forward—we are no longer just a group of dragons."

I took a breath, spreading my wings wide.

"We are a clan. The Dragon Clan."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, wings shifting, tails swishing. But no one objected. They listened.

"We will have structure. A path. A future. I will lead, for now. But I will not lead alone forever. There will be five elders—not chosen by birth, but by wisdom, strength, and contribution. Each will represent the needs of all dragons, and they will work with the clan leader to guide us forward."

Eyes widened. Heads nodded.

"We will vote on our future. We will listen. We will protect each other. And we will protect this land."

Then I turned my head toward the trees.

And he came.

Kong.

He emerged like a living mountain, massive and calm, his fur streaked with rain and dirt, his eyes steady. The ground shook under his weight. He approached slowly, then stood at the edge of our gathering. Watching. Waiting.

I looked back to my clan.

"Kong is our ally. Our friend. Without him, I would not be standing here. He has brought us food, defended this land, and left us in peace. From now on, he is part of our clan's alliance."

I paused.

"If Kong needs help, if he is in danger, any dragon who sees it will answer that call. No hesitation. No fear."

Not a single dragon argued.

Even the most independent, the wildest of the rogues who had joined us, gave a slow nod. Kong remained still—but I saw it in his eyes. He understood.

I looked around one last time. The sky darkened. The torches near the dens began to glow. The fish in the big pond stirred in the water below.

"From this day forward," I said, voice deep and final, "we are no longer scattered. We are united. We are the Dragon Clan. And together, we will never fall."

A roar split the air—not mine—but my son's. Then another. Then dozens.

Wings rose.

Voices thundered.

Even Kong beat his chest once, a silent mark of approval.

And so, as the night fell, and the stars blinked awake, the Dragon Clan was born—not just as a name, but as a force.

A family of fire and flight, tied together by choice—not blood.

And with Kong as our ally, Skull Island was no longer just a home.

It was a kingdom.