Chapter 1: Prologue

Callius Falk looked around the throne room with thinly veiled disgust in his golden eyes. At the sound of a throat clearing, one of his brothers no doubt, he stilled himself. It wasn’t easy, but he bit back his anger.

This was no time for pride. Callius knew what he needed to do. He exhaled and dropped soundlessly to his knees. The cold, hard floor seeped through his leather pants, but he barely felt it. His mind was on more important matters.

He dipped his head low, placing himself at the feet of Dragomir, Chief Dragon of the Blackthorne Clan. His warden these last five centuries. It was symbolic of his subservience to the tyrant.

True, he was the stronger of the two, but he’d never get the chance to prove it. The Blackthorne Clan had over one hundred Dragons in the hold alone. Each was sworn to defend Dragomir, and each would die at his behest. Regardless of how lowly the man was. Service above all.

Dragomir’s silver hair was his greatest prize. It hung long, way past his knees when he stood up. Seated, as he was, the glittering braid sat coiled on the embroidered rug that sat just underneath his throne. The swirling patterns of reds and golds was intricate as it was delicate.

Woven by a true artisan of the Clan, from the finest threads made from a secret mixture of molten gold, silver and other precious metals. Such a piece of true Dragon craftsmanship belonged hanging on a wall in a gilded frame, in a place of honor.

Not beneath his ever-increasing girth. It most certainly should not be used as a resting place for his ridiculous hair. Callius raised a sleek black eyebrow.

He often thought it rather effeminate of Chief Blackthorne to style his hair in intricate braids with golden ropes woven throughout. The several dozen pearls and precious gems he used for adornment only added to Callius’ theory. The Clan Chief was a dandy. A fop. More concerned with his appearance than with ruling with a fair and just mind.

Callius kept his own hair short on the sides and in the back, though the top hung down to his chin in the front. Unlike many members of the Clan whose own braids hung down their backs in imitation of their leader. What was it they said about imitation and flattery? He sneered at the thought.

Disgust was just about all the feeling he had left for the Chief and his followers. The gilded throne Dragomir sat on with his soft and untrained body was encrusted with priceless gems and won with the blood and sweat of others in the Clan.

Inscriptions in ancient Dracan, the language of the Dragon shifters long since unspoken, marked the arm rests and legs of the throne. It was priceless.

A treasure forged a thousand years ago for the once great Chiefs of the Blackthorne Clan. It told the tale of how the first Dragons mated with human females who then birthed the first Dragon shifters. Callius doubted that Dragomir could even read it.

It was almost time. He could practically taste freedom. The scent was there. Just out of reach. He could not wait to leave the desolate castle and the Blackthorne Clan.

He wanted, no, he needed, a castle of his own. A place he and his brothers could call home. And of course, more than anything else, Callius needed a mate. A female companion worthy of his diamond rose.

The greatest gift he had to give. One to carry his young and bring them forth into the world. A female worthy to share in his treasure. And he would have hordes of it to give to her and his brothers. That was a promise.

Traditionally, the right to seek a mate was granted by the Chief alone. One thing he knew for sure, he would rot in that cell of a room for the rest of his days before he asked Dragomir permission to find his mate. He wouldn’t give the Clan Chief that satisfaction.

Chief Blackthorne’s heart was as cold as the ice castle they lived in. They were so far north that normals had very few settlements surrounding them. In the old days that had made trading difficult, but with the dawning of the 21st century much had changed. Computers ruled the world as much as man did.

Dragomir did not like the new age of websites and cellular phones. It made it too easy for his subjects, and their human wives and children, to be independent from him. He was a vicious and jealous ruler.

Callius had seen it in the way he coveted not only all the wealth and finery his clansmen gained, but also the wives of those he was to protect. Ironic, considering the circumstances of his own imprisonment. I forgive you, father.

Callius suspected that last bit accounted for the number of single Dragons in the Blackthorne Clan. That was why he’d decided long ago that he would not make his home in that place.

Finding a mate was necessary. He needed an heir. Callius did not have the luxury of time. He was almost six-hundred years old. If he did not find a mate, one who would faithfully carry on his line, he would miss the opportunity to reproduce, he would become cold. His fire would not last without a family to protect.

It was his only mission. Without a mate, he would die. Callius had no desire to die. He wanted, above all, to be free. And he would have freedom. For himself and his brothers. Even if he had to kiss Dragomir’s feet to get it.

The four Falk brothers; Callius, Nikolai, Edric, and Alexsander, had been kept prisoner for too long. Freedom was a whisper away and he hungered for it like nothing else he had ever tasted.

And now, here he was, seconds away from it. He bit back a snarl and kept his position on the floor. His trained body unmoving even as the Chief’s heavily perfumed hair threatened to make him gag. He was still as stone as Dragomir read the decree that would release the four of them. Finally.

For a moment or two, Callius thought he would deny them liberty, but the Chief merely snarled at him with thick pink lips. His round face reddened as he spoke his last parting words.

“A warning, Brothers Falk, do not come here seeking aid or shelter for you are banished forthwith upon punishment of death. Take your final leave.”

He turned his rotund head to where a waiting attendant placed a crème filled pastry inside of his mouth. Callius rose from his position on the floor, his eyes remained downcast as another servant came forward with a key.

The sound of his irons crashing to the polished marble floor of Castle Blackthorne sent waves of relief through his entire body. His brothers’ chains followed suit. He could feel their anticipation. Wait for it. Now.

It’s been too long since he tasted freedom. Cold wind rushed to meet him as he thrust open the heavy wooden doors of the castle. His prison. He exhaled slowly. His mind was still reeling from the realization that it was finally over.

Callius turned and looked at his three brothers. Their faces all wore the same rapturous expression. He felt it too. As if they were alive for the first time in centuries. With little ceremony or circumstance, their five hundred years of subjugation was over. At last.

Callius nodded his head, and the four brothers began their Change. The shift from man to Dragon was instantaneous. Myth and magic merged into reality in that one glorious moment.

It was like a thousand tiny, little sparks burned throughout his entire body and then, poof, they were gone. Not painful but electrifying. It felt amazing and very, very right.

Callius settled into his enormous body with the same ease and comfort as when he changed clothes. He stretched his long neck and strained his ears to listen for anything amiss. He could feel his brothers’ anxiety. It mimicked his own.

They were anxious for his signal. The need to fly far from that palace of horrors was strong. Callius did not dally. The Chief was notoriously fickle. He’d not give the man a reason to revoke their freedom. Without any further ado, he took flight.

His brothers were right behind him. Their enormous wings cut through the frigid air with powerful thrusts. Each second took them farther away from the place of their birth. The place that had become their prison.

The scales of Callius’ Dragon were dark and coal-like in color. A glittering black against the white of the Northern sky. On his underside, they lightened from a dark bronze to a brilliant gold just above his heart.

His beast was heavily muscled. Power and magic radiated from him as he reveled in his first taste of freedom in half a millennium. He turned his enormous body in a celebratory circle, taking in his brothers with his enhanced vision.

His brothers’ Dragons ranged in size and color. Red, Green, and White. Each one deadly, magnificent, and gifted with unique talents. They’d been forced to use those talents for the tyrannical Chief of Castle Blackthorne during their confinement. It was the most loathsome experience of their lives. But no more.

Callius was free at last. He loosed a stream of brilliant flame from his mouth, simultaneously sounding a triumphant roar. He was a FireDragon, but this was the first time in centuries that he used his gift without orders.

His ability to create and breathe fire was a rare and coveted talent. Even among Dragons. His brothers’ gifts differed greatly from his, but each had a specialty. For the first time in ages, they would own their own talents. It was a heady feeling.

They flew off the Isle of Pain, where Castle Blackthorne stood, together, into the unknown modern world. Like four shooting stars.

The Blackthorne Clan lived in the northern-most region of the Arctic Ocean on a tiny island that, from Callius’ present vantage point, looked like nothing more than a black rock against the white and blue background of the frozen sea.

He felt no remorse in leaving the place of his birth. On the contrary, he was exhilarated. One word rang in his ears and one word only. Freedom.

As the eldest living Falk, he was now responsible for his siblings. It was no great burden but could prove somewhat problematic. Especially since he could sense their restlessness.

He knew what he needed to do, what must be done. To put it mildly, a Dragon without a permanent home was a very, very unhappy creature. At that moment, the Falk brothers were without home, without Chief, and without Clan.

They flew for several hundred miles before he opened his mind to the easy telepathic communication he shared with his brothers while they were in their Dragon forms. It was time they talked.

Callius was a warrior first and, like all good soldiers, he knew they needed a strategy to succeed. He recalled the sneering comments of their former master, Chief Blackthorne and growled deep in his chest.

“You will crawl back to me, Brothers Falk. The outside world is a cruel and hollow place. I will find you in my service once more. Of that, I am certain.”

Not if I have anything to say about it. He remained silent at the time, but his mind had roared his response. Dragomir Blackthorne was a cruel leader. Greed, lust, violence, and fear were the tools he used to keep his Clan in line.

Callius despised him. He would chew off his own claw before he allowed himself or any of his brothers to go back there. No. We will succeed. It was time they make a plan.

Brothers, we need to talk. The world is changed, but our needs remain the same. A castle, a Clan, and a companion each. These are our needs.

Aye, but where will we go to find them, Cal? The next eldest and Callius’ longtime war companion, Edric, spoke first.

His scales were a brilliant red on his back and lightened to orangey gold on his chest. They were as bright as his flame-colored hair when he walked as man. He had three horns spiraling out from the crown of his serpentine head.

On two feet, he wielded a knife better than anyone Callius had ever seen. On four feet, he did something few had ever managed. He manipulated the weather. Callius had seen him create lightning storms with just the beat of his wings.

They’d been through much together. Waging war for a tyrant for five-hundred years had taken its toll on them both. Callius was certain Edric was as sick of death as he was. Perhaps more so since their last battle. But it was over now.

Of all his brothers, he was closest to Edric. If anyone understood what Callius wanted, it would be him. Through their telepathic connection he could not only hear their voices, but he could also feel their feelings.

I do not know where my wings shall take me, but this I do know, we four brothers are now the Falk Clan. Together we shall be equals. I will find us a castle. One where we can come and go and share the fruits of our labor. What say you? Callius felt the approval in their hearts as he spoke in their minds.

Aye, a castle is a thing we all need. But what of a companion, Callius? Shall you find a mate as well? One who is worthy of the diamond rose?

Yes, Edric, I will find both my mate and castle. We shall have a home. All of us. I shall present a worthy female with the diamond rose and she will be mine.

You do that, brother, find a mate and a castle, but I will go explore. Do not expect me home so quickly. Alexsander, the youngest, was never one to shy away from his real feelings.

As a boy, he always yelled the loudest and fought the hardest. Callius suspected it was the only way he felt that he was heard. He looked at him now. A man. A Dragon. No longer a boy.

Alexsander’s translucent-white scales made it almost impossible to find him as he spun and dipped in and out of the surrounding clouds. His youngest brother had felt the cage around them much more keenly than the rest. He saw his adolescence behind stone walls.

As do I. Like Alexsander, I wish to visit the places I have only glimpsed at in the last five hundred years. I’ve sent you the accounts and coordinates. You’ve only to use the cellular phone to look them up.

Nikolai’s green Dragon was the closest in size to Callius’. His genius brother spent the past five-hundred years buried inside of books and computers. A tomb of information.

That was what he called his work room. He fattened the coffers of their jailer and managed to whittle out a slice for the brothers as well. Chief Dragomir allowed them their small personal ventures. What was a few million to a Dragon anyway? Now, Nikolai wanted to stretch his wings. Callius would not stand in his way.

And I too would like some time, brother. Edric’s voice was solemn. Unexpected, true, but he deserved his liberty. They all did.

Callius’ golden Dragon eyes landed on each of his brothers. He opened his long snout, row upon row of razor-sharp teeth glistened against the black of his scales, then he loosed a roar of blue and red flame against the whited-out sky.

He would miss them. They were his flesh, his blood, and his constant companions these five-hundred years. But he understood.

Agreed. Take care, my brothers. As eldest, this is my pledge to you, I will find us a castle and claim my mate. Then I will send for you.

Choose wisely, brother. The diamond rose is special.

Farewell and much luck to you on your quest.

Yes. May you be successful.

Somewhere over the vast Atlantic Ocean, the brothers parted ways. It was bittersweet as all partings were. Only the idea that, one day, they would live in a castle of their own kept Callius on a steady course. His purpose grew stronger with every passing moment.

An idea of Castle Falk began taking shape in his mind’s eye. Not an old stone mausoleum like the one he came from. No, he wanted something new and modern. A haven where they could protect their own and come and go as they pleased. No master, all equals. Yes, it would be a fine thing indeed.

But first things first, he reminded himself.

Find a mate and claim her.