Free Fury of Fate: A Dragonfury Short Story by Coreene Callahan Page A

part of the problem instead of the solution. One that began with environmental crisis and ended with the death of the planet along with every living creature on Earth.
    Pure selfishness. Abhorrent greed. So incredibly short-sighted.
    The human race owned it all in spades.
    But worse? None of them gave a damn about cause and effect. Or the fact the planet they called home died a little more each day. The cause was easy to pinpoint...the human race. The effect was more catastrophic. Environmental meltdown on a massive scale. Proof of it headlined the news every evening—monster storms, record setting temperatures, shrinking polar icecaps, the rise of disease and...
    Shit. He could go on...and on.
    And on.
    He shut it down instead. Whining wouldn’t solve the problem. Taking the imbeciles across the street out, however, just might. Gaze narrowed on the lovebirds, Ivar flexed his hand. Magic bloomed. Pink flame licked across the center of his palm. Hmm yeah, that felt unbelievable...like power, glory, and the promise of something better. Something shiny and bright. Something more than the relentless despair circling behind his breastbone. Inhaling deep, Ivar filled his lungs, then exhaled smooth. The chill took up the cause, sending his breath out in a stream of frosty air. God, it would be so easy to kill the pair. A soft murmur. A rudimentary spell. A little Dragonkind hocus-pocus, and a fireball would rise upon command. Nothing left to do then but wind up and let the inferno fly.
    Slam-bang. Sizzle, burn, scream...poof-gone.
    Nothing but two piles of human ash on the sidewalk with a minimal amount of trouble. Ivar swirled the whiskey in the bottle and pursed his lips. Tempting...oh so very tempting , but not nearly satisfying enough. KOing a couple of humans wouldn’t alleviate the tension, never mind assuage the source of his aggravation. His frustration stemmed from a much larger problem. He needed to get his act together and his ass in gear. Before he ran out of time and his warriors came looking for him.
    Not an optimal outcome.
    He didn’t want any interference right now. Tonight belonged to him. Not to the humans and global issues. Not to the warriors under his command or the greater health of the Razorback organization. Just him. Only him. He hadn’t snuck out of the lair, slipped past his personal guards, and flown downtown to become distracted from his larger goal. Or get caught in the middle of a domestic dispute. The melodrama unfolding across the street wasn’t his concern. Here and now didn’t have a thing to do with a couple of squabbling humans. It did, however, have everything to do with him.
    He needed to be alone. To mourn his loss and honor the dead.
    Brows drawn tight, Ivar fisted his hand, snuffing out magical flame in favor of getting back on track. Pushing away from the brick wall, he stepped out of the shadows and onto the sidewalk. Half-frozen puddles cracked beneath his boots. Sharp sound traveled, rolling down the narrow avenue. Despair welled, co llecting behind his breastbone. Fighting the rising tide, Ivar stared at the building he still owned. So much damage. Not much left to salvage. Little wonder. The fire had shown no mercy, licking through shattered windows to blacken the face of pale stone. Now the roof sagged, and the once beautiful brownstone looked sad. Beyond hope beneath the gloom of midnight and the weak light thrown by nearby lampposts.
    Deuces...a once thriving nigh tclub in the center of Seattle.
    Now nothing but a burned out shell.
    Disastrous destruction, courtesy of the war Ivar fought with the Nightfury pack—a group of Dragonkind warriors who didn’t agree with his politics. Or the plan he put in place to solve the environmental problems plaguing the planet. To be expected, he guessed. He knew Bastian—commander of the Nightfury pack—better than most. Had trained with the male, coming up in the same dragon combat training squadron in Europe. Once brothers-in-arms,