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          Darren Ocalor’s stomach growled. His once strong physique had since withered away to an emaciated husk during his imprisonment at Dragon’s Keep; the minute scraps of food he received were only enough to keep him teetering on the edges of life and death. He knew not how long he had been kept under lock and key, but time seemed to pass slowly within the stone walls of his cell. Light never made it passed the rusty, metal gate at the top of the nearby stone staircase, so the ability to distinguish night from day was far from possible. His only source of light was located opposite of his prison cell: a single torch, held in the sconce upon the wall.

          Every now and then, Darren would hear echoes of the rough, alcohol-drenched speech of the guards making its way down the stone corridors to his cell. Most of their discussions ranged from topics of paying the occasional visit to the brothel, and giving explicit details of their experiences there, to the complaints of how horribly boring guard duty was.
          Occasionally, however, a topic of interest would poke its head out of the monotonous ramblings and Darren would muse over the intricacies of it. Tales of mythical creatures appearing in places that people least expected and granting a specific few wondrous abilities, or the legends of heroes meeting their unfortunate doom when they were clearly at an advantage. The latter of the two was of most interest to Darren as felt he could relate.
          He used to be a widely renowned swordsman throughout the Kingdom of Daruga, its people honoring him with the title of “The Ocalord” as a result of his valiant deeds. Saving countless villages from gruesome beasts, aiding the helpless whom were wrongfully imprisoned, and keeping the peace between denizens of Daruga were a few of his more well-known accomplishments. However, his peasant upbringing made a few of the kingdom's noblemen loath him. In their eyes, it was disgusting to share the same food and drink with a man who originated from a poor community, regardless of his achievements. So, after pulling a few strings, the noblemen secretly planned a trap to strip Darren of his title and imprison him in the keep.
          During his stay at one of the village inns, Darren had received an anonymous letter asking him to free a young woman’s husband, who was wrongfully accused of murder, from Dragon’s Keep. From the way the letter had been hastily written, he assumed the sender was in dire need of assistance and quickly set off towards the prison. But when he reached the gates he found himself surrounded by its guards. Darren had asked why they had turned their blades against him and he was told it was an order by the warden himself. He then realized the letter had been a deception, and he was now in a rather difficult situation. If he had attacked the guards, he would have been branded a murderer and a traitor, and lost the faith of the people. Running away would deem him a coward. The only option he had left was to surrender peacefully.
          Darren grimaced at the memory, knowing that his fate was sealed. Now, it was only a matter of how soon it would come to pass.
          He had heard the rumors of the executions performed in Dragon’s Keep, which was supposedly where its name came from, during his past travels. Every month, for the past three years, a few prisoners would be selected as sacrifices to appease the dragons that inhabited the nearby mountains. These selected prisoners would be forced to walk to the rooftop of the keep, followed by being chained to metal poles stuck in the stone floor. There, the prisoners waited for their inevitable doom, crying and screaming for help as they did, while the keep’s guards moved back to safety to watch the carnage unfold. The dragons, being accustomed to the free meals, would flock to the smell of fresh meat, their voracious appetites in tow. Upon landing on the roof of the keep, each dragon would then choose their respective prey. It was said that this was done based on a dragon’s rank in their clan. The clan leader would proceed with the first choosing, and then each subsequent rank would follow. Once all members were accounted for, they would begin to feast. The feeding was always quick, but gruesome. Entrails would be littered all across the roof, the blood from them staining the stone. And just as quickly as the dragons had come and fed, they were off again, the leader at the front.
          He would become a quick bite for a dragon. That was his fate.
          Darren’s stomach growled again. He smiled wryly. His recollection of a rumor that spoke of dragons feasting on prisoners had caused his stomach to growl. How amusing.
          “Maybe I’ll find some peace and quiet in death, although quite regrettably,” he said in dismay.
          As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Darren heard the screeching hinges of the gate at the top of the stairs. It was time.
          The sound of a pair of footsteps grew louder with each passing moment as two keep guards, one short and one tall, made their way towards Darren’s cell. When they stopped in front of it, the short guard unhitched a metal key ring from his belt and fumbled with the multitude of keys for a moment.
          “It seems you are one of the lucky few to be chosen to die, you filthy swine,” said the guard. Darren’s prison cell key now in hand, the short guard inserted it into the metal lock, and turned it until a clicking sound was heard. He then pulled the cell door open and stepped inside.
          “Good riddance,” the tall guard added on as he followed closely behind his partner.
          Darren clenched his teeth to prevent himself from talking back, as he slowly stood up from his seated position. The short guard spat in disgust as his attempt to get a rise out of the prisoner failed.
          Darren winced as the tall guard clamped the metal shackles upon his wrists rather tightly.
          “I think the dragons would rather us not let their meal escape, don’t you?”
          Darren snorted at the jibe. He was too weak to do much anyway, let alone attempt an escape. He knew the guards were trying to provoke him and he wouldn’t let them have their way.
          “Tch,” clicked the short guard. “Well, get yourself moving! We don’t want to be late for the feeding.”
          The tall guard yanked on the metal chain attached to the shackles, causing Darren to lurch forward. Quickly regaining his footing before he toppled over, Darren glared at the guard and noticed the smug look on his face.
          “Don’t worry. You’ll be rid of us very soon, although you won’t live long enough to enjoy it,” the guard taunted.
          Exiting the metal gate at the top of the stone steps, Darren was led through a long, stone corridor, which housed multiple prisoners on either side of it. Many hoots and hollers, along with the occasional clanging of cheap clay mugs against the stone walls, were heard from each prison cell Darren passed by. He mused at the fact that the inmates were rather glad they weren’t unlucky enough to be chosen.
          At the end of the hallway, Darren was led up a flight of stairs, landing him in another long passageway. As with the previous floor, prison cells, with their respective residents under lock and key, lined either side of the stone hallway. More hoots and hollers were heard as Darren passed them by.
          This occurred with each floor Darren ascended to, the hoots and hollers growing louder each time, until he had reached the final staircase leading to the rooftop. Darren’s ears were still ringing from the racket of all the inmates he had passed, and his head pounded from the headache it caused.
          “Well, maggot, we’ve arrived,” the short guard jeered.
          Yanking on the metal chain again, the tall guard led his charge up the stairs. Darren was quickly greeted by the chilly winds and the freezing cold stone tiles beneath his bare feet. From where he exited, Darren could see that the length of the rooftop stretched out quite far in front of him. To his left, thick, stone walls lined up from one end of the roof to the other. Several holes had been crudely made in them and reinforced with vertically-placed, metal bar.
          This is probably what the rumors were referring to when they said the guards watched the carnage from a safe distance, Darren thought to himself.
          The stench of blood suddenly filled his nostrils, and his attention quickly shifted towards the source. Metal stakes near the center of the rooftop had unlucky inmates bound to them, their bodies bruised and beaten. Some were still unconscious, while others cried for help or screamed in agony from the pain. All sacrifices, save one, were accounted for – he was the last.
          The tall guard stopped in front of the only vacant pole, and turned towards his charge. Taking hold of the shackled hands, the guard shoved Darren against the metal rod, knocking the breath out of him. He then lifted the young man’s body by the arms and latched the shackles to a metal hook at the top of the pole. Afterwards, the guard stepped back to survey his completed task.
          Darren’s body was now dangling several inches above the ground, ensuring that he could not use the ground as leverage to free himself. The strain on his arms immediately became apparent to him; it felt as if gravity would tear his body away from them. His malnourished frame and the chilly winds bombarding it made this all the more prominent.
          “Enjoy your last day here in the world of the living, filthy scum,” the tall guard spat. He then stormed off, taking his place behind the stone walls with the other guards.
          Guess this is it, Darren thought. Hopefully, it’ll be quick and painless, though. He sighed.
          The sound of a roar broke his self-closure, and Darren and the other prisoners stared up into the sky. A group of winged, four-legged beasts were diving down towards them. The dragons were here. It would all be over soon.
          An uproar of screams and yells erupted from the bound prisoners as the dragons landed on the rooftop. Some begged the dragons to have mercy on their souls, while others prayed to their gods in hopes of salvation from their plight. Darren, however, did not. Treating the situation as if it were any other hardship he had faced before, he kept himself calm and collected. Darren planned to go down peacefully; he was not afraid to lose his life.
          One of the dragons began to make its way forward towards the waiting prey. Its towering frame, from what Darren could deduce, probably reached the height of at least sixty feet. Black scales covered its body, extending from tail to muzzle, while its underbelly sported those of dark gray. From the top of its head, long, white horns protruded out, curving backwards towards the long neck, and a slash scar could be seen across its left eye.
          I assume that is the leader of the group, Darren thought.
          He could see the dragon scanning the prisoners for its potential meal, its gaze striking fear in each one it rested upon. Its lips parted each time it seemed to have spotted an unlucky candidate, causing globs of saliva to seep from between the pearly white daggers and land upon the stone tiles below with a thick splash.
          And then the eyes rested upon him.
          Chills ran down Darren’s back, as the dragon’s piercing eyes seemed to be staring into his soul, but he did not falter. Instead, he smiled gently. He was reminded of all the previous encounters of staring death in the face; this was just another one of them, though probably his last.
          The black dragon grinned and pointed a claw towards Darren.
          “That one is mine. Do what you wish with the rest, but do not touch him,” the dragon warned its group, in a rough, masculine voice.
          “Are you blind, Tynder? That one looks to be a bit on the scrawny side. He probably wouldn’t even make a decent snack, let alone a meal,” a small, male dragon taunted.
          Tynder turned swiftly towards the young dragon, and abruptly gripped its green muzzle in one of his claws, causing the smaller dragon’s eyes to widen with fear.
          “I said… do not… touch him. What I deem a meal is none of your concern. Is that clear, Brine?”
          The young, green male quickly nodded his consent. Shoving the dragon away, Tynder turned back towards the young man.
          The black dragon began to make his way over towards Darren’s sacrificial pole, the stone roof tiles violently shaking under each footfall. His towering frame’s shadow silenced each prisoner’s screams and cries as it fell upon them. Within a few paces, Tynder was standing in front of Darren. A wide tooth-filled grin spread across his muzzle.
          “You should be honored that I chose you. It means you’re more worthy a meal than the rest of the meat here.” Tynder licked his lips.
          Darren continued to smile. “Honored? Perhaps I am. Am I correct in assuming you are the leader of the group then?”
          Tynder’s grin widened. “Indeed.”
          “Would you grant me one small request?”
          “And what request would this be?”
          Darren sighed. “I ask that you make it as swift and painless as possible. If I must die here, I’d prefer to do so with the remainder of my honor intact.”
          Tynder’s smile disappeared and he cocked his head to the side. Never had a human asked him to end their life willingly. He was always begged and pleaded to spare them and let them go free. And he enjoyed it to the fullest when he destroyed their hopes of salvation. This human, however, intrigued him, the leader of a group of powerful dragons. For a human to do something of the sort… perhaps he would grant the young man a reprieve.
          “You are the first human to ask such a request of me,” Tynder said.
          “Truly?”
          “Indeed.”
          “Then, perhaps you would be willing to honor it?”
          Before Tynder could answer, a raspy, male voice was heard.
          “So, are we going to feast or just sit and watch you converse with your prey? The dragons are getting impatient.”
          A large, red dragon with an off-white underbelly and long, black horns had wandered over from its own prey to find out what was delaying the feast.
          Darren saw the black dragon straighten up and turn his head towards it.
          “Are you sure it’s not only you, Ash, who is getting impatient,” Tynder snarled. “Would you rather I took your meal instead, and forced you to starve until the next feeding? Maybe that will teach you some patience.”
          A shocked look appeared on the red dragon’s face. After a few moments, though, the dragon bowed his head and spoke.
          “No, that will not be necessary. My apologies.”
          “Good. Dismissed.”
          The red dragon bowed again and returned to his prey. Tynder then turned to the rest of his clan.
          “I know that you are all impatient to satiate your hunger pains. Let us delay no more. Commence the feeding,” he roared.
          Roars resounded from all the dragons, and they began. Darren heard agonizing screams all around him. He hoped the black dragon towering over him would be merciful enough to accept his request.
          Tynder turned back to Darren and lowered his head so it was just above the sacrificial pole.
          “It is now your turn, young man. And unfortunately, I will not be granting your request.”
          A sigh escaped Darren’s lips as the black dragon lowered his draconic head. He wanted to go out honorably, but it seemed he would not. Dismayed, Darren’s head drooped, and a sad smile appeared on his face.
        Tynder opened his maw and began to lick the young man with his thick, pink tongue, covering the human in globs of saliva. He murred in delight, and a loud purr escaped his throat. The sweet and salty flavor was more delicious than any human he had consumed before. It even left a tangy aftertaste. He had to have more.
          Tynder unhooked Darren from the sacrificial pole with one of his claws, careful so as not to injure him, and raised him high into the air. Standing upright, he looked up at the human dangling above his muzzle.
          “Instead of honoring your request, human, I will grant you a reprieve.”
          Darren saw the large maw below him spread wide and grimaced at the sight. Dagger-like teeth lined the outskirts of the dragon’s mouth, globs of saliva dripping from them. His eyes gravitated towards the center, where the pink tongue was quivering in delight and the pulsating, red ring of the throat seemed to beckon to him. The caustic stench of the dragon’s breath was intense enough to make him gag. Darren prayed silently, hoping that, when the dragon released his grip, he would land on one of the teeth and be granted a swift death.
          Tynder released his grip on the human and watched as his prey descended into his waiting maw. With a wet plop, the young man landed on his tongue, and the flavorful goodness he had tasted before spread across it. Snapping his jaws closed, he began to roll the poor human around with his tongue, murring in delight as it squirmed. With a flavor so exquisite, there was no way he could rid himself of possibly the tastiest human in existence. He would spare the young man, but for now he would enjoy this moment to the end.
          Darren tried his best to fight back against the force of the pink muscle, his survival instincts urging his limbs to thrash out left and right in the darkness. But his withered body was too weak to do anything substantial, as the tongue pushed him around with ease. He attempted a swing at the slimy opponent with his left arm, but it slipped right off the wet coating of saliva and he lost his balance. The tongue seemed to take advantage of the mistake and quickly shifted upwards, slamming his back into the roof of the dragon's mouth. The force ripped the air from his lungs, and Darren opened his mouth gasping. As he struggled to suck down as much oxygen as he could, he cursed himself. This wasn't what he envisioned when he said he would go out peacefully - this was the exact opposite of what he wanted. And he noticed that, although his weakened body had been thrown all around, the tongue had been keeping him far away from the large teeth. The dragon's intent soon became clear to him. It wasn't going to grant his request at all. It was going to make him suffer as much as possible until his end.
          With his jaws now filled with the human’s succulent flavor, Tynder’s favorite part was coming up. Tilting his head back, he flicked his tongue upwards, sending his meal to the back of his throat. Then, he swallowed. A loud purr escaped from his mouth as the lovely squirms traveled down his neck. He followed it with one of his claws, until it disappeared into his rib cage. It was definitely one of the best sensations. Even more so with how tasty his prey was this time around.
          Landing with a splash in a pool of saliva, Darren coughed and wheezed, his lungs still craving for oxygen. The warm, moist air around him did little to alleviate the need, but it was enough for his breathing to slow down to a more bearable speed. He looked up to survey his surroundings, and gritted his teeth. He was surrounded on all sides by high muscular walls, red and blue veins crisscrossing throughout them. A slow drumming sound of a steady heartbeat reverberated in his ears, as well. It was as he had feared - he was in the belly of the beast. He was going to be burned alive by the acid, and he was sure the dragon would take much pleasure in it. But he wasn't going to take it lying down. Using his remaining strength, Darren began to punch the muscular floor beneath him, sending globs of saliva into the air. He hoped the dragon would spit him out before it was too late.
          The black dragon enjoyed the continuing squirms in his belly. He was not used to having live prey inside, but it was a great feeling. A sensation he wouldn’t forget. He flicked his tongue around his maw, relishing the leftover flavor. The aftertaste was just as lovely.
          The internal heat of the stomach had finally taken its toll on Darren's body and he felt his strength slipping away. His punches lacked their forcefulness, his vision was blurry, and his awareness constantly wavered. He couldn't hang on any longer. Toppling over on to his back, Darren felt the warm saliva encompass his frame, as if welcoming him with earnest. With the last of his consciousness ebbing away, a final thought cross his mind.
          At least I won't feel the pain.
          Tynder felt the squirms slow to a halt, and he looked down at his large gut.
          “Fear not, human,” he spoke, softly patting his stomach as he did. “For a taste as delightful as yours, you can be sure that I will let you live to see another day.”
          Tynder looked back up and surveyed the other dragons. He confirmed that they had finished with their meals as well, though in a much messier manner. Remnants of human entrails littered the stone rooftop, pools of blood seeping from them. Though he did not much care for the other humans, he did pity them slightly.
          As the last of the dragons finished licking their muzzles, Tynder spoke.
          “Seeing your toothy grins, I take it your meals were scrumptiously delicious, too.” Nods were seen from each of them, and Tynder smiled in response.
          “Good. Then, it is time we return and let our meals settle.” Turning towards the direction from whence they landed, Tynder shouted. “To the Keep!” A flurry of beating wings and loud roars were raised in reply, and the dragons soared into the air.
          As Tynder led his group, he felt the human inside him shift slightly. A small smile crept up on his muzzle. Though he was a fierce draconic leader and a beast at the top of the food chain, he had acquiesced to his interest in his human prey. A reprieve he promised and a reprieve he would give – but not without the human granting him a request of his own. That he would make clear.
          Tynder looked forward to it, saliva seeping from his mouth in anticipation, as he led his underlings ever nearer towards their home.

Description
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          Darren Ocalor’s stomach growled. His once strong physique had since withered away to an emaciated husk during his imprisonment at Dragon’s Keep; the minute scraps of food he received were only enough to keep him teetering on the edges of life and death. He knew not how long he had been kept under lock and key, but time seemed to pass slowly within the stone walls of his cell. Light never made it passed the rusty, metal gate at the top of the nearby stone staircase, so the ability to distinguish night from day was far from possible. His only source of light was located opposite of his prison cell: a single torch, held in the sconce upon the wall.

          Every now and then, Darren would hear echoes of the rough, alcohol-drenched speech of the guards making its way down the stone corridors to his cell. Most of their discussions ranged from topics of paying the occasional visit to the brothel, and giving explicit details of their experiences there, to the complaints of how horribly boring guard duty was.
          Occasionally, however, a topic of interest would poke its head out of the monotonous ramblings and Darren would muse over the intricacies of it. Tales of mythical creatures appearing in places that people least expected and granting a specific few wondrous abilities, or the legends of heroes meeting their unfortunate doom when they were clearly at an advantage. The latter of the two was of most interest to Darren as felt he could relate.
          He used to be a widely renowned swordsman throughout the Kingdom of Daruga, its people honoring him with the title of “The Ocalord” as a result of his valiant deeds. Saving countless villages from gruesome beasts, aiding the helpless whom were wrongfully imprisoned, and keeping the peace between denizens of Daruga were a few of his more well-known accomplishments. However, his peasant upbringing made a few of the kingdom's noblemen loath him. In their eyes, it was disgusting to share the same food and drink with a man who originated from a poor community, regardless of his achievements. So, after pulling a few strings, the noblemen secretly planned a trap to strip Darren of his title and imprison him in the keep.
          During his stay at one of the village inns, Darren had received an anonymous letter asking him to free a young woman’s husband, who was wrongfully accused of murder, from Dragon’s Keep. From the way the letter had been hastily written, he assumed the sender was in dire need of assistance and quickly set off towards the prison. But when he reached the gates he found himself surrounded by its guards. Darren had asked why they had turned their blades against him and he was told it was an order by the warden himself. He then realized the letter had been a deception, and he was now in a rather difficult situation. If he had attacked the guards, he would have been branded a murderer and a traitor, and lost the faith of the people. Running away would deem him a coward. The only option he had left was to surrender peacefully.
          Darren grimaced at the memory, knowing that his fate was sealed. Now, it was only a matter of how soon it would come to pass.
          He had heard the rumors of the executions performed in Dragon’s Keep, which was supposedly where its name came from, during his past travels. Every month, for the past three years, a few prisoners would be selected as sacrifices to appease the dragons that inhabited the nearby mountains. These selected prisoners would be forced to walk to the rooftop of the keep, followed by being chained to metal poles stuck in the stone floor. There, the prisoners waited for their inevitable doom, crying and screaming for help as they did, while the keep’s guards moved back to safety to watch the carnage unfold. The dragons, being accustomed to the free meals, would flock to the smell of fresh meat, their voracious appetites in tow. Upon landing on the roof of the keep, each dragon would then choose their respective prey. It was said that this was done based on a dragon’s rank in their clan. The clan leader would proceed with the first choosing, and then each subsequent rank would follow. Once all members were accounted for, they would begin to feast. The feeding was always quick, but gruesome. Entrails would be littered all across the roof, the blood from them staining the stone. And just as quickly as the dragons had come and fed, they were off again, the leader at the front.
          He would become a quick bite for a dragon. That was his fate.
          Darren’s stomach growled again. He smiled wryly. His recollection of a rumor that spoke of dragons feasting on prisoners had caused his stomach to growl. How amusing.
          “Maybe I’ll find some peace and quiet in death, although quite regrettably,” he said in dismay.
          As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Darren heard the screeching hinges of the gate at the top of the stairs. It was time.
          The sound of a pair of footsteps grew louder with each passing moment as two keep guards, one short and one tall, made their way towards Darren’s cell. When they stopped in front of it, the short guard unhitched a metal key ring from his belt and fumbled with the multitude of keys for a moment.
          “It seems you are one of the lucky few to be chosen to die, you filthy swine,” said the guard. Darren’s prison cell key now in hand, the short guard inserted it into the metal lock, and turned it until a clicking sound was heard. He then pulled the cell door open and stepped inside.
          “Good riddance,” the tall guard added on as he followed closely behind his partner.
          Darren clenched his teeth to prevent himself from talking back, as he slowly stood up from his seated position. The short guard spat in disgust as his attempt to get a rise out of the prisoner failed.
          Darren winced as the tall guard clamped the metal shackles upon his wrists rather tightly.
          “I think the dragons would rather us not let their meal escape, don’t you?”
          Darren snorted at the jibe. He was too weak to do much anyway, let alone attempt an escape. He knew the guards were trying to provoke him and he wouldn’t let them have their way.
          “Tch,” clicked the short guard. “Well, get yourself moving! We don’t want to be late for the feeding.”
          The tall guard yanked on the metal chain attached to the shackles, causing Darren to lurch forward. Quickly regaining his footing before he toppled over, Darren glared at the guard and noticed the smug look on his face.
          “Don’t worry. You’ll be rid of us very soon, although you won’t live long enough to enjoy it,” the guard taunted.
          Exiting the metal gate at the top of the stone steps, Darren was led through a long, stone corridor, which housed multiple prisoners on either side of it. Many hoots and hollers, along with the occasional clanging of cheap clay mugs against the stone walls, were heard from each prison cell Darren passed by. He mused at the fact that the inmates were rather glad they weren’t unlucky enough to be chosen.
          At the end of the hallway, Darren was led up a flight of stairs, landing him in another long passageway. As with the previous floor, prison cells, with their respective residents under lock and key, lined either side of the stone hallway. More hoots and hollers were heard as Darren passed them by.
          This occurred with each floor Darren ascended to, the hoots and hollers growing louder each time, until he had reached the final staircase leading to the rooftop. Darren’s ears were still ringing from the racket of all the inmates he had passed, and his head pounded from the headache it caused.
          “Well, maggot, we’ve arrived,” the short guard jeered.
          Yanking on the metal chain again, the tall guard led his charge up the stairs. Darren was quickly greeted by the chilly winds and the freezing cold stone tiles beneath his bare feet. From where he exited, Darren could see that the length of the rooftop stretched out quite far in front of him. To his left, thick, stone walls lined up from one end of the roof to the other. Several holes had been crudely made in them and reinforced with vertically-placed, metal bar.
          This is probably what the rumors were referring to when they said the guards watched the carnage from a safe distance, Darren thought to himself.
          The stench of blood suddenly filled his nostrils, and his attention quickly shifted towards the source. Metal stakes near the center of the rooftop had unlucky inmates bound to them, their bodies bruised and beaten. Some were still unconscious, while others cried for help or screamed in agony from the pain. All sacrifices, save one, were accounted for – he was the last.
          The tall guard stopped in front of the only vacant pole, and turned towards his charge. Taking hold of the shackled hands, the guard shoved Darren against the metal rod, knocking the breath out of him. He then lifted the young man’s body by the arms and latched the shackles to a metal hook at the top of the pole. Afterwards, the guard stepped back to survey his completed task.
          Darren’s body was now dangling several inches above the ground, ensuring that he could not use the ground as leverage to free himself. The strain on his arms immediately became apparent to him; it felt as if gravity would tear his body away from them. His malnourished frame and the chilly winds bombarding it made this all the more prominent.
          “Enjoy your last day here in the world of the living, filthy scum,” the tall guard spat. He then stormed off, taking his place behind the stone walls with the other guards.
          Guess this is it, Darren thought. Hopefully, it’ll be quick and painless, though. He sighed.
          The sound of a roar broke his self-closure, and Darren and the other prisoners stared up into the sky. A group of winged, four-legged beasts were diving down towards them. The dragons were here. It would all be over soon.
          An uproar of screams and yells erupted from the bound prisoners as the dragons landed on the rooftop. Some begged the dragons to have mercy on their souls, while others prayed to their gods in hopes of salvation from their plight. Darren, however, did not. Treating the situation as if it were any other hardship he had faced before, he kept himself calm and collected. Darren planned to go down peacefully; he was not afraid to lose his life.
          One of the dragons began to make its way forward towards the waiting prey. Its towering frame, from what Darren could deduce, probably reached the height of at least sixty feet. Black scales covered its body, extending from tail to muzzle, while its underbelly sported those of dark gray. From the top of its head, long, white horns protruded out, curving backwards towards the long neck, and a slash scar could be seen across its left eye.
          I assume that is the leader of the group, Darren thought.
          He could see the dragon scanning the prisoners for its potential meal, its gaze striking fear in each one it rested upon. Its lips parted each time it seemed to have spotted an unlucky candidate, causing globs of saliva to seep from between the pearly white daggers and land upon the stone tiles below with a thick splash.
          And then the eyes rested upon him.
          Chills ran down Darren’s back, as the dragon’s piercing eyes seemed to be staring into his soul, but he did not falter. Instead, he smiled gently. He was reminded of all the previous encounters of staring death in the face; this was just another one of them, though probably his last.
          The black dragon grinned and pointed a claw towards Darren.
          “That one is mine. Do what you wish with the rest, but do not touch him,” the dragon warned its group, in a rough, masculine voice.
          “Are you blind, Tynder? That one looks to be a bit on the scrawny side. He probably wouldn’t even make a decent snack, let alone a meal,” a small, male dragon taunted.
          Tynder turned swiftly towards the young dragon, and abruptly gripped its green muzzle in one of his claws, causing the smaller dragon’s eyes to widen with fear.
          “I said… do not… touch him. What I deem a meal is none of your concern. Is that clear, Brine?”
          The young, green male quickly nodded his consent. Shoving the dragon away, Tynder turned back towards the young man.
          The black dragon began to make his way over towards Darren’s sacrificial pole, the stone roof tiles violently shaking under each footfall. His towering frame’s shadow silenced each prisoner’s screams and cries as it fell upon them. Within a few paces, Tynder was standing in front of Darren. A wide tooth-filled grin spread across his muzzle.
          “You should be honored that I chose you. It means you’re more worthy a meal than the rest of the meat here.” Tynder licked his lips.
          Darren continued to smile. “Honored? Perhaps I am. Am I correct in assuming you are the leader of the group then?”
          Tynder’s grin widened. “Indeed.”
          “Would you grant me one small request?”
          “And what request would this be?”
          Darren sighed. “I ask that you make it as swift and painless as possible. If I must die here, I’d prefer to do so with the remainder of my honor intact.”
          Tynder’s smile disappeared and he cocked his head to the side. Never had a human asked him to end their life willingly. He was always begged and pleaded to spare them and let them go free. And he enjoyed it to the fullest when he destroyed their hopes of salvation. This human, however, intrigued him, the leader of a group of powerful dragons. For a human to do something of the sort… perhaps he would grant the young man a reprieve.
          “You are the first human to ask such a request of me,” Tynder said.
          “Truly?”
          “Indeed.”
          “Then, perhaps you would be willing to honor it?”
          Before Tynder could answer, a raspy, male voice was heard.
          “So, are we going to feast or just sit and watch you converse with your prey? The dragons are getting impatient.”
          A large, red dragon with an off-white underbelly and long, black horns had wandered over from its own prey to find out what was delaying the feast.
          Darren saw the black dragon straighten up and turn his head towards it.
          “Are you sure it’s not only you, Ash, who is getting impatient,” Tynder snarled. “Would you rather I took your meal instead, and forced you to starve until the next feeding? Maybe that will teach you some patience.”
          A shocked look appeared on the red dragon’s face. After a few moments, though, the dragon bowed his head and spoke.
          “No, that will not be necessary. My apologies.”
          “Good. Dismissed.”
          The red dragon bowed again and returned to his prey. Tynder then turned to the rest of his clan.
          “I know that you are all impatient to satiate your hunger pains. Let us delay no more. Commence the feeding,” he roared.
          Roars resounded from all the dragons, and they began. Darren heard agonizing screams all around him. He hoped the black dragon towering over him would be merciful enough to accept his request.
          Tynder turned back to Darren and lowered his head so it was just above the sacrificial pole.
          “It is now your turn, young man. And unfortunately, I will not be granting your request.”
          A sigh escaped Darren’s lips as the black dragon lowered his draconic head. He wanted to go out honorably, but it seemed he would not. Dismayed, Darren’s head drooped, and a sad smile appeared on his face.
        Tynder opened his maw and began to lick the young man with his thick, pink tongue, covering the human in globs of saliva. He murred in delight, and a loud purr escaped his throat. The sweet and salty flavor was more delicious than any human he had consumed before. It even left a tangy aftertaste. He had to have more.
          Tynder unhooked Darren from the sacrificial pole with one of his claws, careful so as not to injure him, and raised him high into the air. Standing upright, he looked up at the human dangling above his muzzle.
          “Instead of honoring your request, human, I will grant you a reprieve.”
          Darren saw the large maw below him spread wide and grimaced at the sight. Dagger-like teeth lined the outskirts of the dragon’s mouth, globs of saliva dripping from them. His eyes gravitated towards the center, where the pink tongue was quivering in delight and the pulsating, red ring of the throat seemed to beckon to him. The caustic stench of the dragon’s breath was intense enough to make him gag. Darren prayed silently, hoping that, when the dragon released his grip, he would land on one of the teeth and be granted a swift death.
          Tynder released his grip on the human and watched as his prey descended into his waiting maw. With a wet plop, the young man landed on his tongue, and the flavorful goodness he had tasted before spread across it. Snapping his jaws closed, he began to roll the poor human around with his tongue, murring in delight as it squirmed. With a flavor so exquisite, there was no way he could rid himself of possibly the tastiest human in existence. He would spare the young man, but for now he would enjoy this moment to the end.
          Darren tried his best to fight back against the force of the pink muscle, his survival instincts urging his limbs to thrash out left and right in the darkness. But his withered body was too weak to do anything substantial, as the tongue pushed him around with ease. He attempted a swing at the slimy opponent with his left arm, but it slipped right off the wet coating of saliva and he lost his balance. The tongue seemed to take advantage of the mistake and quickly shifted upwards, slamming his back into the roof of the dragon's mouth. The force ripped the air from his lungs, and Darren opened his mouth gasping. As he struggled to suck down as much oxygen as he could, he cursed himself. This wasn't what he envisioned when he said he would go out peacefully - this was the exact opposite of what he wanted. And he noticed that, although his weakened body had been thrown all around, the tongue had been keeping him far away from the large teeth. The dragon's intent soon became clear to him. It wasn't going to grant his request at all. It was going to make him suffer as much as possible until his end.
          With his jaws now filled with the human’s succulent flavor, Tynder’s favorite part was coming up. Tilting his head back, he flicked his tongue upwards, sending his meal to the back of his throat. Then, he swallowed. A loud purr escaped from his mouth as the lovely squirms traveled down his neck. He followed it with one of his claws, until it disappeared into his rib cage. It was definitely one of the best sensations. Even more so with how tasty his prey was this time around.
          Landing with a splash in a pool of saliva, Darren coughed and wheezed, his lungs still craving for oxygen. The warm, moist air around him did little to alleviate the need, but it was enough for his breathing to slow down to a more bearable speed. He looked up to survey his surroundings, and gritted his teeth. He was surrounded on all sides by high muscular walls, red and blue veins crisscrossing throughout them. A slow drumming sound of a steady heartbeat reverberated in his ears, as well. It was as he had feared - he was in the belly of the beast. He was going to be burned alive by the acid, and he was sure the dragon would take much pleasure in it. But he wasn't going to take it lying down. Using his remaining strength, Darren began to punch the muscular floor beneath him, sending globs of saliva into the air. He hoped the dragon would spit him out before it was too late.
          The black dragon enjoyed the continuing squirms in his belly. He was not used to having live prey inside, but it was a great feeling. A sensation he wouldn’t forget. He flicked his tongue around his maw, relishing the leftover flavor. The aftertaste was just as lovely.
          The internal heat of the stomach had finally taken its toll on Darren's body and he felt his strength slipping away. His punches lacked their forcefulness, his vision was blurry, and his awareness constantly wavered. He couldn't hang on any longer. Toppling over on to his back, Darren felt the warm saliva encompass his frame, as if welcoming him with earnest. With the last of his consciousness ebbing away, a final thought cross his mind.
          At least I won't feel the pain.
          Tynder felt the squirms slow to a halt, and he looked down at his large gut.
          “Fear not, human,” he spoke, softly patting his stomach as he did. “For a taste as delightful as yours, you can be sure that I will let you live to see another day.”
          Tynder looked back up and surveyed the other dragons. He confirmed that they had finished with their meals as well, though in a much messier manner. Remnants of human entrails littered the stone rooftop, pools of blood seeping from them. Though he did not much care for the other humans, he did pity them slightly.
          As the last of the dragons finished licking their muzzles, Tynder spoke.
          “Seeing your toothy grins, I take it your meals were scrumptiously delicious, too.” Nods were seen from each of them, and Tynder smiled in response.
          “Good. Then, it is time we return and let our meals settle.” Turning towards the direction from whence they landed, Tynder shouted. “To the Keep!” A flurry of beating wings and loud roars were raised in reply, and the dragons soared into the air.
          As Tynder led his group, he felt the human inside him shift slightly. A small smile crept up on his muzzle. Though he was a fierce draconic leader and a beast at the top of the food chain, he had acquiesced to his interest in his human prey. A reprieve he promised and a reprieve he would give – but not without the human granting him a request of his own. That he would make clear.
          Tynder looked forward to it, saliva seeping from his mouth in anticipation, as he led his underlings ever nearer towards their home.