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I’ve got four more chapters already typed up in my drafts, ready for editing. For now, I’m taking a tiny break while the series settles in and picks up some traction. 😊
Hope you enjoy the chapters so far — let me know your thoughts!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I’ve got four more chapters already typed up in my drafts, ready for editing. For now, I’m taking a tiny break while the series settles in and picks up some traction. 😊
Hope you enjoy the chapters so far — let me know your thoughts!
The sun had only just pulled itself over the desert horizon when Ghost lifted his massive head, amber eyes narrowing at the wash of pale gold across the sand. The light flickered across the bone-white mask etched into his scales, making it look momentarily alive—shifting, breathing, staring right back at Amelia.
A shiver crawled down her spine, the good kind.
A reminder: she wasn’t riding a beast. She was riding a force of nature.
“Price expects us in the sky,” she murmured, adjusting the straps on her harness. Her hands still trembled faintly—not from fear, but from the weight of what had happened last night.
Ghost had chosen her.
Her.
Not the hundreds of trained riders before her. Not the tacticians or specialists or hardened operatives. Amelia Hart, a writer-turned-analyst with more instincts than credentials.
You hesitate.
The thought brushed her mind, hot and gritty like sand carried by wind.
Amelia let out a breath. “Not hesitation. Respect.”
Ghost’s pupils narrowed in something almost like approval.
She swung herself up and into the saddle, the leather warm from Ghost’s body heat. He shifted his shoulders, adjusting his massive wings. Sand swirled in a tight vortex around his talons as he crouched.
For a heartbeat, everything stilled—
the air, the desert, Amelia’s breath.
Then Ghost launched.
The earth dropped away. Amelia’s stomach lifted with the force, but she leaned with him instinctively. Wind clawed at her clothes, snapping the loose fabric at her sleeves. Behind her, Ghost’s wings beat with heavy, thunderous power.
Far below, the base shrank to a scattering of tiny beige dots. Beyond it, the desert unfolded like an endless golden sea.
Amelia leaned forward. “Take me to Las Almas.”
Ghost didn’t answer—words weren’t needed. He simply angled his wings and surged toward the horizon.
The City of Souls
Las Almas was a patchwork of color, noise, and heat visible even from miles away. Clusters of buildings sprawled outward like roots from an ancient tree—some painted bright, others worn and sun-bleached. Smoke rose from morning cooking fires. Traffic honked in erratic rhythm. And somewhere below, deep in the tangle of narrow streets and hidden alleys, Task Force 141 was already moving.
Price’s voice crackled through Amelia’s headset.
“Ghost, Hart. You’re eyes in the sky. Soap and Alejandro are making their way through the market. Keep them covered.”
Amelia lifted her binoculars.
“I’ve got visual,” she said. “Ghost is descending to overwatch altitude.”
Ghost rumbled low in his throat. They walk blind. We see for them.
He circled high over the market square, wings outstretched like dark sails catching the rising heat. Civilians paused mid-step at the sight of him—some shading their eyes, others grabbing children by the shoulders and pulling them indoors.
Amelia’s chest tightened.
“Not used to seeing dragons without collars,” she murmured.
Ghost vibrated with something like disgust. Collars are chains for cowards.
“Agreed.”
From her vantage point, she saw more than people—she saw patterns. Movement that didn’t match the flow of a morning market. Men pretending to buy bread while passing signals. Lookouts stationed on rooftops disguised as delivery workers. Runners weaving in and out between alleys too quickly to be casual.
“Cartel activity high,” Amelia whispered into the comm. “Multiple spotters. Ghost is tracking five… no, seven armed individuals.”
“Copy that,” Price replied. “Keep an eye on rooftops.”
“I am.”
Or rather—Ghost was.
His head snapped toward the east. A low rumble built deep in his chest. Up. Height. Metal glint.
Amelia followed his gaze—
A rooftop two blocks away.
Someone lifting a long, black shape.
A scope.
A rifle.
“Ghost, dive!”
Ghost folded his wings without hesitation.
Wind screamed past them as they plummeted. Amelia squeezed tight, heart hammering, eyes locked on the rooftop. The sniper barely had time to register a shadow descending like an executioner.
Ghost hit the rooftop with explosive force.
The metal roof crumpled, sending reverberations through the entire building. The sniper flew backward, weapon skittering across the gravel.
Amelia jumped off before Ghost even settled, boots hitting the rooftop hard.
“Don’t move!” she barked, rifle aimed steady.
Ghost’s claws pinned the sniper down, the dragon’s amber eyes burning like coals ready to consume.
“I—I wasn’t gonna shoot!” the sniper squealed.
Ghost leaned closer, breath hot enough to make the man whimper. Liar.
Amelia stepped forward. “You’re working for El Sin Rostro.”
“No!” The man trembled. “I mean—yes—please I—”
Ghost growled low, shaking dust loose from the warped rooftop.
“You tell your bosses,” Amelia said quietly, “that the sky belongs to us today.”
She motioned to Ghost.
The dragon lifted his claws. The sniper ran, stumbling over himself, leaving his rifle behind.
Ghost snorted. Fool.
“Come on,” Amelia said, climbing back onto his back. “Soap and Alejandro are moving again.”
A Warning from the Sky
They lifted off once more, Ghost’s shadow sweeping across dancing strings of laundry and cracked terracotta tiles. Amelia spotted Soap below—arguing loudly with a fruit vendor trying to overcharge him.
Alejandro stood at his shoulder, hiding a laugh.
But danger pulsed around them.
Amelia felt it first—a cold prickling at the base of her skull. Ghost felt it too. His wings stiffened. His pupils contracted.
Scent. Heavy. Wrong.
“Ghost?” Amelia whispered. “What is it?”
Ghost didn’t answer. He banked sharply left, nearly scraping a rooftop.
Below—
cartel soldiers flooded the street.
Too many.
Too coordinated.
Moving toward a single point.
Soap.
Alejandro.
“Ambush!” Amelia yelled into the comm.
“Already on it!” Soap shouted back. Muzzle flashes flared below.
Ghost didn’t wait for instructions.
He descended like an avalanche.
His jaws opened. A roiling blast of white-hot fire surged downward—controlled, directed, hitting only the patch of street behind the cartel men. The shockwave knocked bodies into walls, sent guns clattering across pavement.
Soap dove behind a fruit stand, shouting, “Bloody hell! Biggest damn guardian angel I’ve ever seen!”
Alejandro smirked. “That’s not an angel, hermano. That’s a dragon.”
Ghost exhaled a plume of heat. Move.
Amelia pointed. “South alley. Go!”
Soap and Alejandro sprinted.
Ghost leapt skyward again, but something stopped him cold mid-air.
Amelia felt the shift in him—something ancient, instinctive, almost fearful.
“Ghost?” she whispered. “What do you sense?”
His wings froze.
His breath slowed.
His claws curled into his own palm mid-flight.
A scent… from the old days.
Heat swelled dangerously under his scales.
Death walked here once.
Amelia’s breath caught. “Where?”
Ghost turned his head toward the southern edge of Las Almas—toward an old, half-crumbling church.
Smoke curled from its broken windows.
Men gathered around crates of weapons.
And at its center stood a tall, masked woman giving orders like a conductor at a symphony.
Amelia felt her stomach drop.
“El Sin Rostro,” she whispered.
Ghost growled so deeply the air vibrated.
We hunt.
Amelia tightened her harness.
“Then take us in.”
Ghost tucked his wings, and together they plunged toward the heart of Las Almas.
The raid on the church began.
Prev/Next
Main Masterlist/Blog Rules
(A/N: Disclaimer this story is gonna be uploaded slowly but I already have it planned out and have a few chapters written already. I'll be uploading when I have the chance to. Hope you enjoy this story!! ☺️)
In a time long past, when gods roamed the heavens and mortals whispered their prayers into the ether, there existed a girl whose very presence felt like a secret cradled by Olympus itself. Though not a goddess by birthright, Azealia possessed a rare magic that eclipsed even divine lineage. Her beauty was mesmerizing-crafted, it seemed, from starlight and silk-but it was her serenity, her unshakable calm amid the turbulence of immortal life, that left even gods enchanted.
No storm could disturb her peace, and no venomous word could pierce the stillness she carried. Beings from distant realms sought her out with their burdens, desperate for her guidance. And always, Azealia listened with patience, her voice soft as moonlit waters. Over time, she became revered across worlds as the Goddess of Tranquility and Love-a beacon to all who yearned for solace.
Many believed gods to be merciless tyrants, but Azealia knew a different truth. Five centuries earlier, the celestial beings had descended to Midgard with pure intentions: to uplift humanity and grant them a chance at a harmonious life. But their compassion was mistaken for weakness. Humanity's complexities had been underestimated, and one by one, the gods fell into subjugation-enslaved by the very mortals they hoped to guide. Only a single family remained faithful, honoring the fallen deities as the benevolent spirits they once were.
Now, fate whispered a new question:
Would Azealia and her three siblings arrive in time to deliver the ancient gods from their ruin...
or had salvation come too late?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As destiny stirred, Lord Zeus hurried through the gleaming halls of Olympus, his normally steady gait sharpened with urgency. In his haste, he collided with a healer, nearly knocking her off balance.
"Oof! You clumsy ser-" Hephzibah snapped, her irritation flaring-until she looked up and froze.
"L-Lord Zeus! My deepest apologies! I thought you were one of the servants-please, forgive me!"
He waved her apology aside, his composure held together by thin threads. "It's quite alright. I must see my wife and child."
"L-Lady Hera is resting, my Lord," came a gentle voice. Anathema emerged from the nursery, having just tended to the newborn. She guided Zeus inside, where soft light bathed the room in a warm glow.
Zeus approached the ornate crib and leaned over. His breath caught.
There, bundled in shimmering cloth, lay an infant girl with radiant, electric-blue eyes that glittered like untold secrets. Her porcelain skin held luminous silver-gold markings that drifted across her frame like living constellations. Her lips-soft, red, perfectly shaped-curved into a tiny giggle as if she recognized him.
"Is this him?" Zeus asked, hope flickering.
"The baby is a girl, my Lord," the healer replied gently.
A rare stillness overtook him. "A girl... I had hoped for a son." He paused, awe overtaking disappointment. "But she... she is extraordinary."
The healers exchanged uncertain glances-never had they seen their King struck speechless.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dawn washed the skies in pale gold as Hera awoke, exhaustion easing from her body after the long night. She crossed to the crib with slow, reverent steps and gazed at the sleeping child who seemed to radiate peace itself.
A soft smile touched her lips.
Yet as she studied her daughter's features-the beauty of Aphrodite, the quiet cleverness reminiscent of Athena-Hera felt a bittersweet weight settle in her heart. Azealia was destined for greatness, yes, but also for trials that would demand every ounce of strength she possessed.
And so, beneath the tender hush of morning, a mother silently wondered:
Would her child be ready for what the fates had already begun to weave?
Amelia Hart stepped off the transport aircraft with one hand shielding her eyes from the grit carried on the wind. A storm had passed only hours ago, and it left Sierra-9 Dragon Facility coated in a thin layer of wet sand that stuck to everything. Even the chain-link fences buzzed under the weight of it, crackling with static.
She pulled her hood tighter, breathing in the familiar scent of engine exhaust and scorched dust. The base looked unremarkable—squat concrete buildings huddled together like tired soldiers, their edges weathered by heat and sandstorms. But there was something in the air she couldn’t name.
A tension.
A pulse.
Like a sleeping giant beneath the ground.
And she could feel it watching.
A shadow moved at the corner of her vision, and she turned sharply—only to find nothing but heat shimmer dancing above the tarmac.
“Beth Hart?” a voice called, rich with gravel and clipped authority.
She spun to see Captain John Price approaching, his boots crunching through the grit. He moved with a relaxed confidence that suggested he had seen the worst the world had to offer—and walked away seasoned, not shaken.
“It’s Amelia, sir,” she corrected gently.
Price smirked, tipping his hat. “My mistake. Amelia, then.”
He shook her hand, his grip firm.
“You were a special request,” he said. “Did you know that?"
“No, sir.”
“Well, you were. And the one who requested you isn’t exactly the type to make requests.”
Her brows knit. “Who?”
Price jerked his head. “Come meet him.”
They walked across the cracked tarmac toward the largest hangar in the facility—an old aircraft shelter reinforced with steel plates and thick columns. Guards flanked the entrance, rifles ready, posture rigid.
Amelia’s heartbeat quickened.
She had heard rumors. Everyone in her field had. But nothing confirmed. Nothing official.
Sierra-9 wasn’t just a dragon stable.
It was the dragon stable.
The one that held the world’s most volatile, powerful, and unpredictable war-dragon ever documented.
Price paused before the blast door and looked at Amelia more seriously than he had so far.
“Before we step inside,” he said, “you need to understand something.”
She nodded.
“What you’re about to see isn’t a pet. Or a partner. And it’s damn sure not a tamed creature. He’s one wrong breath from burning the whole damn place down.”
Amelia swallowed. “And I’m here because…?”
“Because you’re the only one he didn’t try to kill on sight.”
She blinked. “I’ve never met him.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Price said, typing in a code. “Dragons don’t evaluate people the way we do.”
“What do they evaluate, then?”
Price’s gaze flicked toward the hangar door as it began to rise.
“Instinct.”
A wave of heat rolled out—intense, living, almost sentient. The hair on Amelia’s arms stood up. The scent of sulfur and char washed over her like a physical force.
The hangar chamber inside was dark except for intermittent flickers of red emergency lights. The floor was scorched steel, cracked and clawed. Chains dangled from reinforced rafters. Deep gouges marred the walls—marks made by something large, powerful, and angry.
Amelia’s breath caught.
A low, abyssal growl vibrated through the air—so deep it rattled her ribs.
And then she saw him.
The dragon stepped out of the shadows like a nightmare given form.
His scales were matte black, edged with gleams of molten orange beneath. They looked forged—not grown—like armor hammered in a volcanic forge. His wings were massive, skeletal in shape but thick and powerful, stretching nearly wall to wall.
But it was his face that froze her.
Bone-white markings streaked across his muzzle, forming the eerie shape of a skull. Not paint. Not decor.
A mask of scars.
A reminder of violence survived.
Amber eyes burned through the skeletal pattern, fixed on her with an intelligence that felt ancient and sharp.
Amelia’s knees almost buckled.
“Ghost…” she whispered.
Price’s voice softened. “Codename. Earned it.”
Ghost took one slow step toward her. The ground trembled. His muscles rippled beneath armor-like scales. Heat radiated off him, and Amelia could feel it even from fifteen feet away.
His growl deepened—no longer a warning.
A test.
Price leaned near her ear. “Everyone else ran by now. Do not give him your back.”
She didn’t.
The dragon circled her with slow, deliberate movements—his deadly tail dragging sparks across the floor. His pupils adjusted, narrowing as he observed her like a puzzle he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve.
Amelia forced herself to stand tall, lungs expanding around a heartbeat that hammered like gunfire.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered.
The dragon’s head lowered—mask inches from her face. His breath was scorching, laced with smoke and ash. For a moment, the entire world shrank to amber eyes and bone-white markings.
Then—
A short, sharp snort of air blasted her hair back.
A sound that felt almost like…
Amusement.
Price let out a breath. “Well, hell. He likes you.”
Amelia’s voice barely worked. “He… does?”
“Enough not to eat you immediately. For Ghost, that’s practically affection.”
Ghost’s pupils dilated as he leaned closer, sniffing her shoulder, her cheek, her hands. His massive talons curled around the floor as if restraining instinct.
Her fear melted into something unexpected—an awareness of him. His size. His heat. His controlled violence. And beneath it all, something lonely and fractured.
Pain.
“Price,” she whispered, “what happened to him?”
Price’s jaw tightened. “Another time.”
Ghost watched her, waiting.
Price nudged her gently. “Touch him.”
Her stomach flipped. “If he bites—”
“He won’t,” Price said. “Dragons kill quick. If he wanted you dead, he’d have done it already.”
Amelia raised one trembling hand, closing the distance between her fingers and Ghost’s jawline.
Her palm touched hot obsidian scales.
Ghost’s eyes slid shut. A deep rumble poured from his chest—soft, almost aching. Energy pulsed through her palm, down her arm, and into her bones. Like a heartbeat not her own thrummed in her ribcage.
Amelia gasped.
Ghost inhaled, slow and deliberate, accepting the contact.
Price’s voice came quietly. “Looks like you’ve been chosen.”
“Chosen?” she echoed.
Ghost opened his eyes. In them, she saw the truth.
A dragon who had lost everything.
A weapon who wanted to be more.
A creature who refused to bow to anyone—yet bowed his head to her.
“He’s bonded,” Price said simply. “Ghost just took a new rider.”
Amelia stood frozen, hand still pressed to the dragon’s scorching skin.
“Why me?” she whispered.
Ghost’s thought brushed her consciousness—hot, simple, and absolute.
You did not flinch.
Her throat tightened.
“I won’t,” she whispered.
Ghost nudged her, pressing his skull-mask gently against her shoulder.
A gesture of acceptance.
A vow.
Price stepped back with a grim smile. “Good. Because we’ve got work. Las Almas is heating up, and we need our best in the sky.”
Amelia met Ghost’s burning eyes.
He didn’t need words.
She understood the message in his steady gaze.
Where you go, I go.
Where you fight, I fight.
You are mine to carry.
And I am yours to command.
The heat of him radiated through her, a promise of fire and war.
And in that moment—
the girl
and the dragon
became something neither had been alone.
Partners.
Weapons.
A force the world wasn’t ready for.
Price keyed his comms. “Ghost. Amelia. Saddle up. We leave at dawn.”
Ghost unfurled his wings—massive, shadow-dark, stretching until the air hummed with their power.
Amelia exhaled, steady and new.
“Alright,” she said softly. “Let’s start.”
Ghost’s chest warmed in agreement.
Always.
/Next
Main Materlist/Blog Rules
(A/N: Disclaimer this story is gonna be uploaded slowly but I already have it planned out and have a few chapters written already. I'll be uploading when I have the chance to. Hope you enjoy this story!! ☺️)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Joining the 141 is a dream come true, a team fully comprised of avian hybrids, working alongside the best of the best, and you'll have a fellow bird of prey to keep you company? What more could you ask for?..... maybe for a co-worker who's not a massive cunt.
Ghost is less than enthused about another raptor joining the team, especially one so eager to show him up. Avoiding them doesn't exactly work when you live in close quarters and Price has made it clear they're on the team for good. Guess he's left with only one option.
------
Part 1 - Meet and Greet coming 05/02/2026
Part 2 - Tour Group
Part 3 - Skill Assessment
Part 4 - Mess Hall
Part 5 - Excursion
Part 6 - Downtime
Part 7 - (Not So) Friendly Competition
Part 8 - Close Call
Part 9 - Big Steps
Part 10 - Bonding
Part 11 - Dream Team
Part 12 - Annual Traditions
Part 13 - Sulking
Part 14 - Snap Judgement
Part 15 - Rise and Shine
Part 16 - On Top
Part 17 - Consequences
Part 18 - Silent Treatment
Part 19 - Butting Heads
Part 20 - Implosion
Part 21 - Recovery
Part 22 - Shadow
Part 23 - Debrief
Part 24 - Bet On It
Part 25 - Tiptoe
Part 26 - Drinking Games
Part 27 - Tight Grip
Part 28 - Preening
Part 29 - Private Moment
Part 30 - Revelations
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This series may contain some amounts of violence, harassment and sexually explicit scenes
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
