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If you’ve been chomping at the bit for a taste of Revenge of the Overlords (previously titled The Great Council), I have just the thing for you.

Herein is an early version of the prologue. Just bear in mind that there may be factual and/or grammatical errors and the content of this text is likely to change before publication.

But without further ado, I bring you the prologue for your reading pleasure.

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What a farce, the wyrm thought as he watched the endless procession of dragons of every size, color, shape, and description pass into the underground chamber.
To call the chamber immense would have been tantamount to calling the towering peak the humans had known as Everest a gentle hill. The size of the chamber defied all description. The wyrm couldn’t begin To guess how it had been shaped or, indeed, how it had the structural integrity to resist collapse.
The dark brown walls of the cavern were smooth and glossy, and pockmarked with an incredible array of alcoves of various sizes. They accommodated a staggering array of dragons, from the floor up to the high domed ceiling, which rose at least two-hundred wingspans above the floor.
Rising from the center of the cavern was the most blatant display of ostentation the wyrm had ever seen. A massive, gem-encrusted dais of what appeared to be solid platinum rose at least three wingspans from the cavern floor. The platform stretched out in a rectangular shape that was at least two leagues on its long side and almost half that on its narrow side.
The wyrm couldn’t help wondering just where in the name of Infernalis they had found so much platinum.
But then, he thought, if the rumors about the son are true, then perhaps they didn’t need to find it.
The desire to sneer was almost overpowering. He indulged in a mental sneer as he fought to keep his expression blank. With the sheer number of dragons milling about, it was unlikely any would notice such an expression on his face. His current form was among the most unassuming he could imagine, after all. And by design, of course. The last thing he wanted was to draw undue attention.
His form was of middling length and average musculature. His neck and tail were of average length. His silvery scales were glossy, but fell short of the mirror finish typically not attained until after a Silver’s second millennium of life. His teeth and claws had a slight grayish cast, indicative of older maturity but falling short of anything definitive. His eyes he had crafted to appear as though cast from aquamarine with a sliver of jade for the vertically slit pupils.
Forcing the tension from his body, he sat back in his shallow alcove at the ground level and tried to ignore the barrage of dragons who walked or flew past him on their way to their own places.
Not that any of them know where they belong any better than I, he thought with a mental chuckle.
Well, perhaps that was unfair. He knew precisely where the self-styled Speaker of the Council wanted him to be, after all. Or where the garnet fool wanted his natural form to be, at least. Not that he had any intention of ever doing what Graayyyavalll wanted him to do. Ever again. The arrogant fool had lost that privilege decades ago.
And before the day was out, the old fool would realize his mistake.
By the Lady of Chaos, he thought, I will make you rue the day you chose to do this.
Forcing himself to relax, the wyrm allowed his mind to wander into imaginings of the future— a future he would control —as the endless stream of dragons passed him by, most without so much as a glance his way.
Hours passed before the constant stream of Dragonkind so much as slowed, and at least another hour passed while the last of the stragglers filed in. Looking about, he could hardly believe the number of dragons present. Everywhere he looked, light glinted off scales of every color he had ever imagined. It was like looking into a box filled with chips of gems, jewels, and stone, and slivers of metal. Every substance he could imagine had at least one representative. “I hadn’t thought this many wyrms still lived in the whole of the word,” he said in awe, unable to fully banish the hunger from his voice.
He hoped none of those near him noticed.
“Where did they all come from? Where have they been hiding?”
The wyrm huffed a sigh. If he’d known about all these dragons he might not have needed to ingratiate himself to the pompous garnet. Here was all the arcane strength he ever could have asked for.
Gradually, the mutterings that formed a continuous roar throughout the immense cavern began to taper off and quiet. Judging by the content of the conversations flowing around him, the wyrm figured the dragons were growing restless as they waited for the arrival of their host.
He couldn’t help a touch of surprise that all those around him knew the identity of the great garnet. with how few of the negotiations the arrogant creature had conducted himself, the wyrm had expected most of the attendees would have no idea who he really was.
It seems that even now, he has the ability to surprise me.
But it mattered not. It would change nothing. For long minutes, the dull roar tapered further until it was little more than a buzzing murmur. The wyrm kept his eyes riveted on the platinum dais. He didn’t know what Graayyyavalll had in mind, but felt certain the ancient garnet’s arrival would be something meant to shock and impress all those in attendance.
Without warning, a booming sound like a clap of thunder reverberated around the chamber. A cloud of crimson smoke flashed into existence on the platinum dais and a collective gasp sounded around the cavern as the great garnet appeared amid the smoke, seemingly from nowhere!
How did he do that! the silver wyrm screamed inside his head, echoing hundreds, if not thousands, of spoken questions throughout the cavern.
All dragons knew that arcane travel was impossible. No power, no ability, no ritual, no talisman existed, or ever had, that could move a physical body from one location to another in anything other than the traditional manner.
As far as the wyrm knew, it wasn’t a matter of power. Surely, if one needed only acquire suitable power then one of these Overlords could have managed it by now. No, it had to be some immutable law of the natural universe. Not even a single coin, or, indeed, even a single hair, could be transported in such a way.
The best outcome for those who had tried had always been failure. The worst result, however, didn’t bear thinking about.
The silver wyrm had seen such a result once. It was more than sufficient to ensure he never attempted such foolishness himself.
All of which did not move him one iota closer to an explanation of what the garnet had done or, more importantly, how he’d done it.
Silence reigned Supreme as the crimson smoke dissipated to reveal the immense form of Graayyyavalll in all his shimmering garnet glory. With the natural shine of his deep red scales, one might almost have mistaken him for a ruby dragon rather than garnet.
Impossibly, the garnet Speaker of the Council took up more than half the dais! When had he grown so large? The silver wyrm had known the pompous creature was immense, but this was another matter entirely. It hadn’t been that long since he’d been in the garnet’s presence. surely he couldn’t—
The wyrm froze. No, he Thought. It isn’t Possible, is it? One of his key objectives is to abolish the thefts. He couldn’t be such a hypocrite, could he?
Any further speculation on the matter was cut off as the garnet turned in a full circle, presumably to meet the gazes of as many of the attendees as he could, and he started to speak in his deep, resonant voice.
Impossibly, the booming words easily reached every far alcove of the cavern without ever being loud enough to damage any dragon’s receptors.
“Thank you all for agreeing to be part of this Council, an event unlike any seen since the days preceding The long sleep.” He paused to glance around. Almost as though he were expecting applause.
Never mind the meeting just prior to the Great War, the wyrm thought snidely.
“But rest assured, wyrms. I will not be asking you to do anything of that sort. Please accept my most heartfelt thanks for being willing to set aside your differences and take this chance at building a lasting peace for all Dragonkind.’’
This time there were scattered cheers from a few different parts of the chamber. The silver wyrm struggled not to sneer at the fools. He would have wagered half his soul those cheering were among the young and all-but-helpless dragons of the new generation. He couldn’t understand how even dragons that young could be foolish enough to think this inanity had any chance of working.
“But enough pleasantries. I’m not nearly arrogant enough to think you came to hear the sound of my voice,” he said with a chuckle.
The wyrm scoffed, certain that was, in fact, exactly what the over-sized garnet wyrm thought.
“So without further ado, allow me to make you a promise.” The garnet stood up on his hind legs and turned in a slow circle. As he did so, the air throughout the cavern seemed to crackle with arcane energy.
The silver wyrm shifted his vision to Arcane Sight and his breath caught in his throat.
No glow permeated the cavern, nothing shone in the air. A few arrays of colored light flashed from a few wyrms throughout the chamber, many of which were likely Arcane Sight, the same as he, but otherwise the only power anywhere in the chamber came from the pulsing glare of silvery light within Graayyyavalll himself.
The garnet was a veritable beacon of arcane energy.
The silvery light at the garnet’s core flashed in a brilliant pulse that lit every dark corner in the chamber. The flash dimmed for a moment, then flashed again, even brighter this time.
Then a third pulse of light, this one so bright it hurt the silver wyrm’s eyes. But this one did not recede, it was sustained as though Ryujin’s Blaze had erupted from the garnet dragon’s core.
After several moments, the wyrm was forced to cancel his Arcane Sight lest the brightness permanently damage his eyes.
“I give you my oath… no, an oath is not strong enough.’’ The garnet turned in another slow circle, offering significant looks all the way around. “Wyrms of every breed from every land. Right here, today, before you all, I offer you all my solemn Heart-Bond—”
A collective gasp resounded throughout the chamber, from the silver wyrm as much as any other. He knew the unbreakable power of a Heart-Bond as well as any. On the rare occasions it was done, a dragon had to be extremely careful of their word choices when they offering such a vow. Sometimes the power that governed them did not interpret a dragon’s words in quite the way they were intended.
But it mattered not. There was no going back. Once the vow was spoken it became binding. It was irrevocable and unchangeable.
“Until the end of my life, I will remain dedicated to peace and equality among us. I will never stop fighting for it. I am committed to change. To turning the Earth into a living paradise where all dragons live in race and harmony, without fear of destruction purely to feed another’s power.’’
With the completion of the Speaker’s words, a deep warmth suffused the chamber as the power took hold and transformed them all into a Bond. A Bond that would kill the garnet if ever he tried To renege on it.
And now it makes sense, the silver wyrm thought. Except that it didn’t.
Oh, it explained the burst of power sure enough. That was so. But what in the name of Infernalis was the garnet doing? There were so many loopholes and gray areas in that oath, there was no telling just how the power would force him to hold to it!
He shook his head, no longer at all certain he knew what was happening here.
Wait, he thought as a new idea occurred to him. Is it possible those loop holes and gray areas are exactly what he’s counting on? It still seems like a foolish gambit, but it could pay off if it works out the way he wants.
Or, rather, it could have if the garnet was going to live to see this day’s end.
The silver tensed. It was time. He had to have the time to get into position and make this happen while there were plenty of witnesses here.
He stopped listening to the garnet’s words and delved into his Apex to draw forth the power he needed. He began the process of weaving together two separate and quite different patterns of power at once.
The Speaker of the Council droned on, occasionally interrupted by another dragon. At a few points, arguments erupted among those in attendance. At other times the immense wyrm was interrupted by cheering.
Finally, the silver completed his weave. The world seemed to expand around him, growing to immense proportions. It was a neat trick he had learned by listening to Balhamuut describe the method his sire had used to rescue him— what a joke! —From the agate dread, Vordillainsura.
Where he had been, a perfect replica of his silver form sat in the alcove, evincing the expected reactions to whatever words reached its receptors. In his tiny new form, he stood on the silver body’s claw. It felt real enough. He hoped it would be sufficient to fool any dragon who happened to look his way.
Now for the hard part, he thought and moved off the simulacrum’s claw and began the painstaking trek along the virtually unending wall of the cavern. With his new compound eyes, he saw hundreds of replicas of the wall within his view, each from a slightly different angle.
As much as he would have liked to spend some time getting used to his new senses, time was a luxury he did not have in abundance just now.
He ran as fast as his tiny, chitinous legs would carry him. He knew where his goal was, just five short alcoves to his right. He only hoped that in this new form he could keep his directions straight and get there with as little difficulty as possible.
The barrage of images before him made his draconic brain hurt. The booming sound of the garnet’s voice hammered at the strange sensory organs that functioned as ears, making his head spin and his stomach heave.
He struggled against the sensory overload, fighting to keep facing the right direction and keep moving. On numerous occasions, he caught himself turning away from the sounds, his body moving away of its own accord. Each time he caught himself, it was a little harder than the last to turn himself around and head toward the source again.
At long last, after what felt like years of running, he saw in the far distance that he was in the center space between the very four wyrms he meant to be between. He grinned a toothy, insectile smile.
Reaching down to his Apex once more, he found…
Confound it! he raged silently. Of all the possibilities to overlook!
There was a flaw to his plan. He could end his transformation, reverting to dragon form, but nothing more. In his present state he could not access his Apex. It seemed the insect body did not allow for it.
After only a moment’s thought, he allowed his body to shift in form until he was a dragon of dark topaz, his coloration almost identical to the earthy gloom of the walls, but in size he was no larger than a typical cave bat.
He touched his Apex and drew forth a stream of power, just enough to turn his body invisible. He drew forth more, to ensure a larger form would remain unseen, then allowed his body to grow into proportions to a little less than half the size of his silver wyrm disguise.
With a glance to ensure he was still invisible, he dived back into his Apex for a greater torrent of power.
It was good that none of these imbeciles knew of the existence of the power he was initiating. The near-disaster perpetrated by Chhry’stuulliound so many years ago had been bad enough, even though it was considered by many to be a lesser evil than the Essence Theft itself. This nameless power, however, was another matter entirely. Those sensitive to such things would think it the most dastardly power Dragonkind had ever created.
Pushing the thoughts away, he drew forth every drop of power he could and sent it forth as tiny threads of connection that touched the form, and Apex, of every one of the dragons present in the immense chamber.
Even Graayyyavalll himself. Oh, What delicious irony that was! To think that the great garnet’s own immense power would play a part in his own destruction!
The irony was a thing of beauty.
The tendrils connecting him to the multitude of wyrms throughout the chamber pulsated with power as more and more arcane energy flowed forth from the unwitting hosts into the wyrm’s dark topaz body.
As the first drop of foreign power touched his soul, the world seemed to spin at the conflicting sensations. He shivered as a chill ran down his spine, yet his muscles clenched against a sudden influx of heat.
The mingled fiery-heat and icy-cold permeated every cell of his being as his a Apex filled to bursting with the alien power of this multitude of dragons.
He knew his timing would have to be nigh on perfect to make this work. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake. No matter what happened, he wouldn’t get a second chance at this.
A few moments before his Apex burst from the massive influx of energy, he began crafting his weapon. He weaved the incoming arcane energy into a lance unlike anything ever seen on Earth before. He gave it a core of pure adamantite, that oh-so-rare metal that was all-but-lost to humankind during the period in their history known as the Dark Ages. It was also, consequently, the only metal on Earth strong enough to pierce the scales of an ancient wyrm.
He couldn’t help wondering, briefly, what the dragon-slayers of old had used? They couldn’t all have used it. Not even all of the successful ones. Perhaps they had found success by somehow getting around the scales of those ancient wyrms?
He wrapped the adamantite core in a sheath of pure destructive arcane power. Around this he wrapped a film of liquid acid capable of burning though any substance, even dragon scale, in a nanosecond. Around The acid he poured a coating of virulent poison, the like of which had not been seen in millennia. Since the destruction of the last of the Merachnids, a grouping of dozens of species of spiders, scorpions, and other arachnida of immense proportions.
Just a drop of that Poison would have killed even the greatest of the ancient wyrms in the days before the discovery of Essence Theft. Hence the reason the Merachnids had been wiped out in their entirety.
Around the poison he crafted a layer of crackling, super-charged lightning. Around the lightning he formed a layer of super-heated liquid fire hot enough to melt rock in an instant. Over this he created a layer smoke as black as pitch and infused with negative energy, similar in effect to the life-draining of power in a shadow dragon’s elemental breath.
Atop the negative energy smoke he formed a layer of liquid ice that could freeze even a firedrake solid. Finally, atop the ice he poured a layer of kaleidoscopic light that would block any attempt to see, investigate, or Delve the lance.
Still pouring immense amounts of power into the various layers of the lance, he formed a metaphysical blade and slashed at an angle through the end of lance, leaving a sharp edge while also revealing every destructive layer in all their murderous glory.
Allowing the blade to dissipate, he continued to pour copious amounts of arcane energy into every layer of the lance, enhancing the potency of every bit of it.
He increased his draw of arcane energy from every wyrm he was connected to, funneling all that immense power into the lance.
Around the chamber, the younger dragons began collapsing from exhaustion. Their cohorts looked a around, confused. A few narrowed eyes were all the evidence the wyrm needed that at least a few had grasped, on same level, at least an idea of the danger they were in.
This was the tricky part. He could not afford to be discovered. He had plans for these wyrms.
A pulse of power flashed through the chamber. Energy shimmered around every wyrm present, sealing the Heart-Bonds of every one of them to whatever silly oath the garnet had demanded.
Now, he thought as he completed several weaves almost at once.
The first finalized the lance and brought it into physical existence, launching it at the pompous garnet atop the dais, who had his forelegs and wings raised and extended, as though he were accepting empowerment from the gods.
The second sent a massive backlash of power back to those he’d been siphoning power from, the force of which would knock them unconscious and remove all memory of the wyrm and his siphoning of power.
Those who hadn’t noticed would, at least in theory, suffer no ill effects beyond the unconsciousness.
And the third was… a curse of sorts. Albeit one that would affect himself as well as many others. It was a pattern that would seek out and identify any dragon who had ever made use of Essence Theft. Those it found guilty it would… mark. Those who had resorted to the use of such an ugly power would find their bodies and faces matching the ugliness of their souls. The more they used it, the more dramatic the changes.
On the dais, Graayyyavalll looked directly at The disguised wyrm, his eyes awash with… sadness, of all things. The glowing, kaleidoscopic lance plunged deep into the huge garnet’s chest, piercing his heart and melting away huge swaths of the flesh and scales surrounding it.
All around the chamber, wyrms writhed and shrieked in agony as their bodies were remade. Some few gained only a small potbelly, a twisted horn, a kinked tail, or strange lumps. Some acquired all of these things. Others gained all this and more in unbelievable profusion and to a grotesque degree.
Never again would anyone have to guess whether or not the dragon before them had partaken of another dragon’s essence. It could be known on sight.
The wyrm felt his own body twisting into grotesque angles as the form of the would-be Speaker of the Council slumped to the platinum dais, his garnet body disintegrating.
Fighting through the pain, the wyrm initiated the ritual to steal the great wyrm’s essence.
An agonized shriek above him almost distracted him enough to interrupt it, but he concentrated on the ritual and forced himself to casually acknowledge the shocking sight before him: the other son. The brother. The one that was supposed to have died years ago.
As he continued the ritual, the garnet creature flew toward him at ever-greater speeds and his agonized shriek became an angry wail and then a rage-filled roar.
“You!” The younger garnet roared in fury. “How Could you! After everything we’ve been through! He trusted you, you gutless son of a worm!”
As the ritual completed, the wyrm looked down at his terribly misshapen body with its shining silvery-blue scales. His natural form. His real body.
Blast it, he thought. That was an unexpected side-effect.
With an almost negligent wave, he sent the last of his power roaring toward the garnet an instant before the unspeakable hurricane of Graayyyavalll’s soul struck him.
The smaller garnet body flew toward the far wall of the cavern at impossible speed.
The silvery-crimson soul-stuff of the great garnet struck him a physical blow, knocking him from the wall to plummet toward the cavern floor.
In the instant before he struck the floor, be whispered, “I am sorry, my brother. There was no other way.”

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Thanks for reading, I hope you’re enjoying the excerpts. And do keep in mind that if you haven’t done so yet, you can pre-order the full book on Amazon at books2read.com/revenge-overlords