“That’s odd,” the dragon Oracle said, stroking his long whiskers as he counted the day’s earnings from sacrifice sales, and casually munched on one of the actual sacrifices, a dragon-fire-roasted leg of a sheep. “Attendance has been going down this month. Does no one want to know the answers to all their problems anymore?”

“May I speak, Your Oracleness?” one of the attendants for his cave lair, a much younger, smaller dragon asked. She bowed with great ceremony and flourish, mostly so the looming presence of her master would know where she was at all.

“Yeah, sure,” Oracle replied, his giant eye dwarfing a single gold coin he delicately held up between two spear-like talons. It was stamped with an imprint he had never seen before, and he was trying to determine its country of origin.

“It may have to do with the army of griffons assembling to the east,” the attendant said. “They have been attacking travelers to feed themselves, and not as many creatures are desperate enough to risk that, even to bask in your magnificence.”

Oracle sighed, a gesture that noticeably warmed the cavern they were in. “I suppose I’ll have to do something about that, then,” he said as he stretched. He scratched one of his claws against his prodigious gut and yawned. “In a bit, anyway. I’ve still got a few things to take care of here.”

“Of course. Your wisdom is without parallel.”

Several minutes of silence followed, with the attendant standing perfectly still, unacknowledged, in her exaggerated subservient pose. Eventually, suspecting no further questions were forthcoming, she inched her way into a side passage, holding the pose the whole time.

Once Oracle finished his counting, he looked around to make sure the chamber was empty. With a satisfied nod, he reached across the cave and brought his divining censer over to himself. He took a deep breath, held it for seven seconds precisely, and then breathed a long, thin trail of his blue-and-white dragon fire into the container. The wisp of flame circled around the censer’s rim as Oracle closed his eyes and focused on what he wished to see.

However, no shapes formed from the flame, and no sounds echoed in the cavern. With a grunt and a curse, he went through the steps again, concentrating harder. This time, he almost caught a glimpse of Duchess Adelaide’s face, but then there was a blinding flash and a loud snap. When Oracle blinked his eyes open, the flame had been extinguished.

“That’s just rude,” he grumbled. “And more importantly, there shouldn’t be any way for a griffon to block my sight… Attendant!”

Oracle’s shout brought the attendant scrambling back into the chamber, already apologizing for her momentary lapse of responsibility. He ignored the babbling.

“Have all petitioners sent away,” he told her. “I’m going to be leaving on a business trip tomorrow. If anyone asks, no refunds, but feel free to give them divination vouchers. Until then, I’m going to sleep. No disturbances.”

“Absolutely, Your Oracleness.” The attendant eventually left again, once Oracle had sat silently long enough.

Oracle stretched his limbs all over his lair and yawned wide enough to swallow lesser dragons whole. He then curled up on top of his hoard, licked his lips, and went to sleep. His dreams started soon, as they always did for the Divine Dragon.

He dreamed of his oldest son, Alexander, who had left on a “quest” shortly after his failed duel against Princess Luna. He had been humiliated by how easily a mere pony had broken his body, but as Oracle told him tales of her deeds in ancient days, that humiliation turned into purpose: he would become stronger, then challenge her again.

In the smoke of his breath, Oracle had seen his son duel tyrannical nobles, bring bandits to justice, and even stand up to other dragons who attacked or offended him. Alexander definitely focused more on the valorous aspects of chivalry, but the seed was there. Luna was still capable of planting them, Oracle saw. He was pleased his friend still had it in her.

He heard shouts in his dreams, and at first he thought they were cheers coming from a village of griffon peasants Alexander had protected from a rival noble's raid. But some of the din sounded a bit too much like dragon voices. Oracle opened his eyes and realized his attendants were rushing into the chamber, arms flailing.

“The griffon army is here!”

Oracle groaned and rolled his eyes. “It is far too early for this. Where are they?”

“All around the mountain!” an attendant answered. “Thousands of them, tens of thousands!”

“Very well then,” he said. “Take cover.”

As the attendants scrambled back into other passages, Oracle spread his wings and jumped, crashing into the ceiling of the cavern. A huge amount of debris shook loose, and the whole mountain quaked. A few of the smaller dragons yelped, and even the larger ones gaped at the display of power. And because they had rarely seen their master move this much.

“Damn.” Oracle grunted. “I used to be able to do that in one try.”

He picked out the weakest place in the ceiling, an area where a couple rays of sunlight could be made out through the rock. He crouched down, then jumped again, focusing all his weight and power on that point.

Oracle burst through the ceiling and out into the open air, sending a shower of rock down the side of his barren, red mountain domain. There was a cacophony of eagle shrieks as a few members of the griffon horde were caught in the explosion. Hovering above the burst peak of his desert lair, Oracle roared.

“We had a deal!” he yelled, voice shaking the ground. “No griffons go past the border. Period! Go back where you came from this instant!”

There were many fearful shouts and a small number of fleeing griffons, but Oracle was surprised to see that most of them stayed in position. The runners being shot out of the sky with arrows may have had something to do with that.

A small band of griffons, clad in leather armor full of well-polished studs, were flying toward him. He gathered up fire into his lungs, causing a fierce blue glow to emanate from his mouth. He growled at them in a low rumble, but did not release the flame yet.

Duchess Adelaide, resplendent in her ducal tiara and necklace, led the approaching band from the front, bringing them to a hovering halt about a hundred yards away.

“You are not our lord,” she shouted back. Her voice did not have the power to shake the earth, but it still carried far. “By what right do you order us around?”

“If right of honor is not enough to convince you,” Oracle shot back, “then maybe right of might will be!”

He released the flame he had stored, sending a huge gout of blue fire at the griffons. They were completely engulfed in the expanding bloom of his breath, and many unlucky common soldiers were killed by the massive heat alone. The leaders dealt with, Oracle turned to swipe the rest of them off of his mountain with his claws and tail. As he reached back to strike, however, he heard laughter from the direction he had launched his first attack toward.

Adelaide and her entourage were still there, surrounded by a magical barrier made of dull grey light, shining like noon on an overcast day. In their talons were small, pointy objects the magic was projecting from--unicorn horns. They had golden rings around the base of the horn, which also glowed with the same muted energy.

Oracle roared again, his fury mounting. Every dragon had a kind of treasure they valued above all others, and ponies were his treasure. “You sacrilegious monsters! How did you get those?”

Adelaide roared back, not nearly as loudly, but with just as much fury. The tone of her cry signaled the entire army to charge at the dragon they faced. Most of the soldiers were peasant levies armed with nothing more than their beaks and claws, but thousands of griffon claws attacking Oracle could very well pierce his scales. The higher classes of griffon were armed with spears and swords, some of which had a faint aura of enchantment around them. This group stayed back for the moment, content to let the fodder advance for them.

As soon as his body had regenerated enough fire, Oracle released another ball of blue flame from his mouth. This time, he turned his head in an arc, sending the breath through the sky and down the slopes of the mountain. More magic shields sprang to life, colored with the same pale grey aura, but not enough to protect all of the charging griffons; it seemed only the elite had access to these profane artifacts, and they mainly used them to protect themselves. Hundreds of griffons burned to ash, and the smell of burning feathers and flesh filled the red canyons and crags.

Then thousands more took their place, spurred on by a mixture of fear and bloodlust. Oracle’s claws raked the ground around him, trying to pin and crush the griffons there before they could leap into the air. At the same time, he swung his tail around side to side, trying to swat the flyers out of the sky. Oracle killed many hundreds this way as he waited for more dragon fire to be alchemically fused inside himself.

Griffons finally got close enough to swarm all over his body, trying to get a hold of his scales and rip them off. He howled and tried to sweep them away with his tail, but some of them managed to hold on. He reared back and beat his wings to help, but like the rest of his body, they had atrophied from disuse and were not strong enough to fend off the most tenacious of the attackers.

Oracle extended his neck and blew out another powerful blast of fire, killing hundreds more griffons as they dove and scrambled toward him. The screams echoed all the way to distant valleys.

After this burst of dragon fire, the commanders and elites of the griffon army signaled their own charge. Having actually trained in warfare, they were able to dodge Oracle’s lumbering swipes much more easily than the initial wave. With their weapons held high, these griffons began screaming piercing war cries as they aimed themselves directly at the points where their underlings had managed to rip holes in the dragon’s armored skin. The dragon attempted desperately to stop them, but they were too fast and too many. Dozens of blades were driven into him. The mountain shook with the dragon’s pain and rage.

He beat his wings harder and jumped into the air, flying up and away as fast as he could. The griffons, however, were faster, and they harried him the whole way. As he looked down to try to track his pursuers, Oracle noticed his attendants in the rocky wreckage of the mountain’s peak. Each of them had a weapon in their claws, defending themselves, but they were in the process of being pecked to death by a tide of griffon beaks. The invaders were devouring his attendants, some of them his own children. He had intended to escape, but the grisly sight of their blood flying and their flesh being torn off caused him to circle back and angle his body for a dive.

Knowing the dragons would be protected from the heat, Oracle breathed a massive trail of fire before him as he swooped over the mountain. The entire peak was now an azure inferno so hot that the stone itself was melting. Swarms of griffons struggled to flee behind the safety of their stolen magic shields. The barriers could only get so large though. The griffons inside them already simply watched as their burning comrades clawed uselessly at them, begging for entrance.

As Oracle landed amidst the flames, he became acutely aware of the pain--there were wounds all over his body, and one rear leg in particular was bleeding profusely. Favoring it heavily, he ran toward where his attendants had fallen. He cried out to them, but heard no response. He cradled one of their limp bodies in his huge claws.

She had green scales and a deep ebony crest. Her delicate gossamer wings had been torn off, and there were open wounds all over her body. The attendant was so young that he had not bothered to remember her name. Oracle could not even recall if she was one of his children or not. He had simply taken them for granted for so long, too comfortable to imagine ever falling from his perch. He cursed his blindness until his body shook, then, with his teeth bared, whirled to face the invading army.

The dragon charged through the masses without regard for the wounds they were inflicting on him, crushing and smashing his way to the leaders. His mouth was smoking, nearly all the dragon fire in his body having been spent. But with some sustenance, he would be able to metabolize more. Oracle focused his advance on the Duchess Adelaide, whose guard were handing her new weapons after her previous ones had gotten lodged in his body. With his maw opened wide, his claws extended, he leaped toward her.

Adelaide twirled out of the way of his mouth, then dipped between his claws. She even had time after the acrobatic dodge to stab her sword into his eye. Before Oracle could retaliate, Adelaide had already left the blade embedded there and was flying back to her unit, activating her horn barrier on the way. He tried to follow her, but his steps were becoming heavier, and the bleeding leg had stopped responding at all to his commands.

Many griffons were dying to his strikes and bites, but the squawks of fear and pain were gradually turning to ones of excitement and triumph. Oracle tried to make another jump, but missed his footing and fell onto his side. Before he could right himself, soldiers were swarming over his body, scratching and stabbing any weak points they could find. From the one eye he could see out of, he stared up at the Duchess, hovering over him with her talons on her hips.

“It’s been too long since anyone in this world has slain a dragon,” she declared with a smirk. “And to think, it might have been even longer if you had just stayed out of politics. It works for me though. Your head will make a fine trophy for my tower.”

“I’m not slain yet!” Oracle released the last bit of fire his body could produce, so quickly that Adelaide’s plumage caught fire before she could bring up her shield. He laughed as she screamed at her army to destroy him. Her companions quickly put her out, but not before half of her feathers had burned away, leaving a smoking bald patch along her entire left side.

Roars and shouts filled the air surrounding the mountain. Weapons plunged deep into Oracle’s body, and with each one, he moved a little slower, killed a few less of his attackers. Gradually, he stopped moving entirely. His physical vision faded, leaving only his holy vision of the future. What he saw was not enough for him to die happy, but it eased some of his regrets.

The victorious griffons cheered… The cheers died off slightly when they realized how much of the hoard was lost; most of the precious gems and stones had survived the battle, but Oracle’s dragon fire had turned the gold into a molten mess. The griffons started squabbling and fighting over who got what before the gold had even hardened again. There were also disputes over the feast rights of their foes. There were more casualties as a result of these disagreements, but Adelaide paid them no mind. These arguments were the honorable dues of victory. Her sights were set firmly on the western horizon.

“You have done well, warriors!” Adelaide proclaimed to them. “You have more than earned the feast of gold and flesh that awaits us in Equestria. What you see here will pale in comparison, I promise you! Salvage what you can of the hoard, and then we march! For glory!”

“For glory!” the masses below her shouted back, when their mouths weren’t full of spoils.