One year. One full year with the creature Veloth has come to know as mother. One year of getting used to his new body full of primal power. One terrible year.

Veloth was upset because he learned of his species. Turns out he and his mother are of an ancient race with great magical and physical capability. It also turns out that this oh-so-powerful ancient race, that his mother has yet to name, has an insanely low fertility rate, and have many enemies. In other words, it’s cliché, a powerful race that is near extinction and thus rare.

[How come beings that are so mighty end up as nothing but legends and folklore? At least I’m not a dragon…]

Veloth lay curled in his new home, a cave at the peak of a mountain made entirely of ice, one massive glacier in a world of sparkling blue and white as far as the eye can see. His fur had thickened so that he could no longer feel the cold.

Veloth’s claws had become sharp and hardened and could carve into the iron-hard ice of the mountain as though it were dirt. Veloth had grown massively in the one year, already four feet tall on all fours, nearly as large as his mother. He suspected the males of his race were larger and that the young grew quickly for that was the only way to rationalize his size.

His teeth had fully grown within two weeks and had been eating the meat of many white furred critters his mother brought since. At two months of age he was made to hunt for himself in the great sea of snow and ice, although it was unnaturally easy for him. No matter the creature he was faster, stronger, and made for the hunt.

Veloth was passing his time by trying to learn how to speak to his mother. His species apparently utilized telepathic communication. Often his mother’s telepathic voice sounded tinged with worry when she spoke to him. Veloth knew it was because it was probably natural for the young of his race to learn how to communicate quickly, and he had yet to succeed.

[How do I use my telepathy? It isn’t like it’s a new concept or anything so why can’t I figure it out? I’ve already managed some magic spells of my own for fuck sake, so why not telepathy!]

He had used magic to form spikes of ice to impale or imprison larger prey before, simply feeling a bottomless well of power within him and drawing out a mere speck of power from it. Following his train of thought, he tried to manipulate the power to move to his mind, as though he could use the power to somehow project his mental voice. Veloth felt it working but he was missing a crucial step somewhere, he knew, perhaps due to retaining his human memories. Due to his lack of communication, his mother worried, and it was difficult to learn much about his new life.

[The hell, was I born a mute? Is that even possible with telepathic communication? Nah, I must be missing some crucial step. Ah! I’m an idiot! I never tried a direct mental connection, only to project my voice!]

Following his new train of thought, as Veloth saw his mother entering their cave for the night, he sent his power to his mind, and from his mind to his mother’s. He sent one word through the new mental link “Mother”. A flood of emotions suddenly swamped his own mind through the connection of power. It began with surprise, followed by joy and relief, then by fear and worry. It was his mother’s emotions, but why fear and worry?

There was a new light source in their home, it was not natural. It was a darkness that permeated from what appeared to be runes made of a crimson color on the cold ice floor of the cave. There was no time to react in that heartbeat of a moment, as that darkness which had its own light spread and covered Veloth’s body.

“Mother!” Veloth cried out one last time before the world appeared to bend and blur.

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General Zavus Greed of the demon army’s Seven Sins watched in impatient anticipation as his strongest hemomancer worked on the summoning circle drawn of blood. The runes were carefully painted within perfectly circular rings, interweaving with each other gracefully in complicated patterns.

“Hurry up! You are taking too long to summon the war beast! You said if I provided you the greatest quality of mana enriched blood I could find you would summon a great beast, so what’s the problem!”

Patience was not Zavus’ strong point. One of the hemomancers, acknowledging his master’s impatientce spoke up.

“We are nearly done master, just a small bit longer.” All you needed to placate that impatience was to promise it would not be much longer, even if it would have taken years longer, simply saying it would happen soon would suffice, surprisingly without implications or punishment to the speaker.

Zavus frowned but did not say anymore. To prepare himself for the arrival of his new and powerful war beast, and to remove himself of boredom, he traveled to his private quarters within the obsidian palace of demonic kin known as Pandemonium, the dark spot that plagues the world of Cres.

Zavus entered his chambers and glanced at his many glorious things, everything here belonged to him, the three women of varying species laying within the silvery silk smooth sheets of his harpy down feather bed. Zavus briskly moved to his gold inlayed ivory pine wardrobe and thrust its doors open.

Before him were many extravagant outfits of gold, silver, purple, blue, read, and any other of the finest colors that caught his eye. He snatched one in particular that he liked, a black robe with a gold threaded and silver threaded dragon winding themselves around each other all throughout the robe. It once belonged to a human who called himself dragon king. Zavus plundered his nation of anything that caught his eye, and left the rest to his subordinates.

Attempting to tidy his unruly charcoal hair within a mirror framed almost entirely by diamond, he notices a faint stubble upon his chin, which he quickly remedies with a pearl handle knife inlaid with a single ruby. Zavus washes his face with water magically provided from a crystal basin, flushing some color back to his red skin and a sparkle back to his golden snake-like eyes. Smiling at his magnificence which he wished to one day obtain copies of in the form of art, he straightens his robe one last time and leaves the treasure room that is his.

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