Chapter 20

“Time to wake up, my angel.”

Victor woke up to a flare of light searing into his eyes. He threw his hands over his face, and groaned. The night had been far too short for his liking. Dirt had accumulated in his eyes.

“Ah, you are awake, my child. At last, we can begin.”

“...Already? Wasn’t my cure planned for the afternoon?” Victor said, wiping the filth from his eyes.

Lothar laughed warmly. “Why, it is already afternoon, my child. Destiny awaits you,” he said, and glanced with hope towards the ceiling. “Thank you, Divinity. Thank you for saving my son.”

A chill crawled up Victor’s spine. This ceremony still felt off. His father had never told him anything specific beyond it being a cure for his legs, whose pain had faltered to a slight irritation over the night. On top of that, Lothar’s excitement wasn’t normal. Far from it. This can’t be a simple cure. Something sinister is at play here.

With no warning, Lothar snatched him up, and carried him in his claws to the temple. The tunnels stretched out tall and wide, far beyond what was necessary to traverse through. No human would design anything like this. There were no decorations, just brown, empty tunnels, spare for mushrooms and tiny pebbles lining the ground.

A noxious mixture of damp caves, mud-soaked mushrooms, various beastlike stenches and smoke hung in the air. Not even the dirtiest, filthiest tavern in Ravens Hill had a stench this bad. The stench, the fear, the talons wrapped around his chest; how he hadn’t passed out yet was a mystery.

Finally, after a suspenseful few minutes, a large open door came into view. The sounds of commotion filled the air; Lothar’s ears flicked up, and he held Victor before his snout. “Are you ready, son?” he asked.

Victor’s toes cramped up in his boots. “W-what is happening, why are you, what-”

Lothar’s wings opened a little. Out of the blue, he moved his claw closer, and nuzzled Victor calmly. “Son, I love you with all my heart.” Victor bit at his cheeks, grasping a talon with both hands. He didn’t reply. “You might have difficulties with what is about to happen, but...” Lothar’s breathing turned anxious. “There is no greater fear for me than losing you. And that is why. I can’t lose you...”

The doors approached swiftly. Beyond them arose a grand celestial hall. Marble pillars and grey walls stretched high above, far beyond the reach of all the buildings Victor had ever laid his eyes upon. His moment of tranquility was cut short, when roars and cheers filled the air. Victor’s head craned back down, and met with a scene from his worst nightmares: Dragons of varying colors all around, huddled together across the hall, their slit-eyes gazing upon him. Each was the size of the guild’s assailant, and there were dozens, if not hundreds of them here.

The commotion faded amidst the sound of Lothar’s claws clicking on the marble tiles. A candle went alight in Victor’s head. Isn’t this the chamber from my dreams?! From the high-rising marble pillars to the altar, this had to be the same room. A realization which raised far more questions than it answered.

Questions he had no time to answer. Lothar walked with his head held high to the steps of the altar, released his son from his claws, then turned towards his audience

“It is fantastic to see you all here on this blessed day. We have gathered here for a special ritual. For the one who will ascend today is none other than my own child.”

A vast array of cheering echoed high above. ‘A-ascend?’ What is happening? Victor’s eyes shifted back and forth in a panic. His head spun in a daze, everything turned blurry.

“Now then, let us bear witness!” Lothar yelled. He then lowered his head before his son, who staggered against the steps of the altar. “Have no fear, my child. Nothing bad will happen to you.” He gently took off Victor’s amulet with a talon. “You will get this back in a moment.”

Victor’s windpipe slammed slut. Every breath was torturous and ragged. Reserved and scared, he slowly ascended the steps. His body screamed at him to turn and run, but he couldn’t. A glance over his shoulder revealed Lothar watching him on, happy and proud. Any attempt to flee would end quick.

At the top of the altar lay a rune. The same rune from his dreams. Victor bit his lip. “Well, well. Your nerves are misguided, for this won’t take long,” said a grim voice, which belonged to a black dragon wearing various trinkets. He murmured something under his growlike breath. For a second, the ghost of Eric was next to him. Then it was William. In split seconds, the ghost wavered from face to face.Men he had fought alongside with when he was still with the Civil Defense. His legs trembled. What is going on, whatisgoingon- Oh gods, please help me...

The dragon’s murmurs rose into a shout, and a large inferno erupted from the rune. Victor’s skin constricted his flesh, a final plea to run for his life. The flames rose up up, their warmth soothing. “It is time to fulfill your destiny, child,” said the black dragon. Sweat poured from his forehead. He wanted to cry out for help, but nothing left his throat. Fate held no remorse for him: He was to be ritually slaughtered. No words expressed the rage and agony he went through at that moment. Betrayed by his own father.

A claw pressed against his back. “Do not keep everyone waiting.” The dragon breathed down his neck. Victor anxiously rasped his breath several times. I’m not going down… so easily! With one last breath, he turned, and punched the dragon on his chestplates. Pain wracked through his knuckles. Victor flinched; what a foolish move that had been. But at least he had the last laugh.

A throaty growl reached his ears. Victor peered up to see the dragon’s bared teeth. He was then lifted up by the shoulders, and flung into the inferno. In an instant, the flames embraced his body. All other sights and sounds barring those of crackling flames vanished. A massive panic attack hit him; his head dashed back and forth. Oh gods, no...!

And then, it hit him.

“My condolences.”

His entire body stung with the fury of a thousand knives, piercing and ripping apart everything in their path. Immediately he crumbled to the floor, screaming at the top of his lungs. Ash and soot incinerated his tongue, his lungs filled up with magma. Not even the tales of the abyss his mother read to him were this cruel. Whatever willpower remained longed for the end; perhaps the afterlife would have mercy upon him. He hadn't got much else to cope with.

But before death, it got worse. The inferno spread into his veins.As if fate hadn’t been cruel enough already, what ensued thereafter was far worse than mere immolation. His clothes shredded into ash, and his body liquified. First his bones, then his organs, then his skin. Then, it was as if hooks burrowed into him, pulling his entire body apart. His hair and soft skin vanished, replaced with something far sturdier. His nails, face and spine grew with explosive force. Then the pain ceased.

Everything was dark. The crackling flames gradually disappeared, leaving silence in their wake. Victor’s body ached on all sides; any attempt at moving resulted in a jolt of pain. He felt bulkier and warmer than earlier, even though his clothes were gone.

Dizziness clouded his mind. What… what happened… His throat produced a rumble as he tried to speak. He never had heard his throat rumble before. His limbs didn’t respond, and were bent in a strange manner. As if his knees had been shattered. His ears worked fine; they caught wind of fast clicking up the steps.

“Son, son? Is everything alright?” Lothar whispered into his ear. His voice was resonant and warm, far clearer than ever. “Please son, answer me.”

“Nnghhh...” Victor’s eyes pried open a little. The golden shape of his father he could make out; the rest was all a blur. “nnnggfatherrrr...” he groaned. It sounded anything but human. A chill slid down his spine.

“Come, son.” Lothar pulled him to his feet.

His eyes cracked open further, and at last his limbs resumed their thankless service, even if they gave wooden logs a run for their money should a stiffness competition arise. Slow, laborious step by slow laborious step, he made his way down the altar. Then, he took a deep breath… just in time for his sense of smell to resume its duties.

Ugh, what is that stench?

Dozens of bestial scents were mixed together in his nostrils, a stench potent enough to torture a man with. He coughed, spitting out phlegm on the marble tiles before him. But as he did, his tongue rolled over his teeth. And in that moment, that innocent little moment, his reality shattered. His teeth rested in his long face like knives in a kitchen drawer, razor sharp and deadly. He froze, the weight of his body gravitating against his father. His head touched against his shoulder, and shock turned to panic. He didn't reach higher than the elbow earlier.

No....no...i-it can’t…

Everything fell into place. The strong smells, the sharp sounds, the new appendages sticking out of his body. The fact that all four limbs were on the ground. Only one explanation explained it all. A theory confirmed the moment his eyes fully opened, and he caught a glimpse of his scaled, clawed hand.

He had become the very thing he swore to fight against.

“My brothers and sisters, the beauty of the transformation never fails to move me. Do we all feel the joy, witnessing the birth of a new brother?”

Victor gazed over the crowd with a glassy stare. Every drop of blood coursing in his veins was colder than the great Northern Reaches, a sensation akin to a dirge jabbed into the throat. His jaws hung half open. A grey void lingered; he had no idea what to think, or what to believe. Part of him wished to scream out for help. Part of him longed to suffer alone in a quiet place, until he figured out what he should do. And a final, remorseless part of him longed to celebrate this change. A bestial side, one whose terrifying pride drove Victor deeper into the void.

Lothar continued with his speech. “Today, my brothers and sisters, I am proud to introduce you our new blood brother… my very own child!” Cheering, roaring and applause filled the air. The atmosphere was one of pure happiness, that of a national celebration. Dragons all around yelled various slogans, compliments and well wishes; one went as far as to hug him, purring into the pointy ears he now possessed. Victor remained silent, and glassy eyed. Deep down, a sense of utter dread arose. None of this was right.

“My fellow Draconists, raise your voice for Vykroz, my son!”

Like thundering artillery, the dragons roared with primal force. Behind him, in front of him, to his left and right, everyone from his father to the smallest amidst the many rows jolted their heads upwards in a massive, simultaneous bellow, powerful enough to shake the earth under their feet. Victor trembled, terrified out of his mind. His legs shook intensely, and his eyes teared up. M-mom... someone, anyone… help me please… He wanted to curl up into a ball, and pray for a miraculous salvation from this nightmare. Alas, there would be no one to burst through the walls and save his soul.

The roars faded away. Victor jumped as something sharp patted him on the back. It was Lothar’s claw. “Now then, it is time for us to feast! To the feeding hall!” With cheers, the rowdy crowd of dragons went onto a ravenous stampede into the tunnels. Lothar pushed his son’s head upwards, and put his amulet back around his neck. “Come Vykroz, you must be hungry.”

Victor’s stomach rumbled on cue. Yet the thought of eating in this state made him uneasy. He gnashed his teeth nervously, and fiddled the amulet in between his sharp talons. His father patted him on the back again, and guided him out of the room.

Still his mind was a grey void. No thoughts, and no emotions on the matter; perhaps this coma would end soon, and he’d wake up in his bed.. But for now, he followed the golden beast’s directions, much like a thankless worker in an ant colony. His enhanced senses were painful; what were agreeable scents and sounds once were now unbearable. Every tiresome step was worse than the previous, yet he had to keep moving, lest the golden dragon would force him forwards.

They reached a large, cramped room some ten minutes later. Dragons everywhere, sitting besides their prepared meals of raw animal, breathing in the already oxygen-strained air. “Here, my son,” Lothar said, pointing a talon to a skinned corpse of a goat lying lonely on the ground. “That one is for you. You can eat when I finish my address, do not worry.” He left Victor for his platform.

Whatever remained of Victor’s appetite withered away, as he stared at his goat. The creature appeared sad, its eyes ready to shed a tear. A hollow feeling materialised in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten in a day, yet to eat this… He was human, not a heartless beast. Back on the farm, he would hide whenever his mother told him she’d slaughter a chicken for the night’s dinner. Something pressed against his chest scales. Victor peeked down to see his talons sink into his chest. I’m not a monster. I am not a monster…!

“It is time to feast, my brethren!”

As Lothar finished his adress, the sounds of meat being torn apart engulfed the room. Victor's ears ringed ; his entire body had been struck with horror. Everywhere , blood spattered in the air, and rained down upon scales and dirt alike. He stared at his goat, to the sound of crunching bones, slimy flesh, and menacing growls. Images flashed in his head. A ruined city, where dragons indulged much the same upon the innocent population.

“...!!”

With a heavy gasp, he bolted. In a grand escape from the abyss itself, he sprinted his way back to the now empty temple. His claws echoed across the marble tiling. The terror struck him harder and harder; he had to find a way out. He ran up the altar, and spotted giant doors straight ahead. That must be the exit! Pleasepleaseplease let that be the exit! He threw his entire body weight at the door, and a miracle happened: They opened!. As lightning, he sprinted through the narrow gap, without closing the door.

The door revealed another cave system. Here, the walls were grey, and moss bedecked the ground. Victor smelled the fragrance of fresh air, freedom was nearby. After a mad dash, he reached a fork in the road. Paths stretched out on all three sides. He turned left, and became dazzled by the sight of a beautiful underground lake.. Glowing mushrooms lined its shores, painting the environment a beautiful azure. Victor’s pace slowed to admire it. A trace of beauty in this dark place.

Alas, beauty was fate’s trump card. The path forward rested on a narrow ridge, twice as high up as the lake. One misstep would send him tumbling downwards, and as luck would have it, Victor made a fatal error: He set his foot too close to the edge. A moment later, he rolled down the slope onto the dirt shore.

Groaning, he raised his head from the ground. There was no easy way back up, besides a tunnel leading back towards the base. With the dragons likely en route, his lone option was to hide as best he could on the shore. He shuffled against the wall, and hoped for the best.

But he didn’t last long. One minute later, as he stared at his forelegs, a feeling of regret plagued his mind. Regret turned into sadness soon after, as he reflected on his actions in the last few days. What have I done? How did I go from the time of my life in the guild, to this? I swore to fight against monsters, and now I’m one myself… I should never have left Raven’s Hill, I should have stayed with the homeless. With Ol’ Johnny, and all the rest. I had a place there, they welcomed me and gave me a place as soon as I arrived… and I didn’t stay...

He kept reviewing his life, again and again. And every time, he discovered something new to fault himself over. His incompetence in the raid, which allowed those who'd go on to kill his family to escape. Not accepting that additional job from the guildmaster, which likely impacted his decision to kick him out. But most of all, him having left his home. He had a peaceful farmer's life cut out for him, far away from this entire mess. But instead, he let idealism guide him to oblivion. And now, he paid the price. A fitting punishment for the lazy, incompetent filth he was.

His throat turned bone dry all of a sudden. With a whimper, he crawled up to the lake. He took a small sip before spotting his reflection. As if he hadn’t been miserable enough, the mirror of water rubbed salt on the wound. The reptilian head of a dragon stared back at him, jaw hanging half open.

No longer was he a plain Lokahnian adolescent. Blood red scales covered his whole body barring his chest, where they were white as snow. Three horns protruded from both sides of his head symmetrically, the uppermost horns being the largest. Large white talons were now in the place his fingers should be, their sharpness apparent to even a cursory glance. A pair of giant wings rested on his shoulder, and behind him spun a tail the length of his body.

But nothing tore him asunder more than his face. His poor face, now a hideous crime against humanity. The monstrous teeth lining his jaws, gleaming with unmatched ferocity. The pointed tongue, stretching deep into his maw. Nothing within him was human any longer. In his eyes alone there remained a trace. Blue and bright as ever, even with the slit pupils they now contained.

Victor staggered away from the water, still parched, yet with no desire to drink anymore. Hunger and thirst gnawed at him. The beast within flashed images of his dragon self hunting, pouncing on a wild deer and devouring it alive. The thrill of the hunt boiled in his veins. He felt the bloodlust and pride watching this dragon enjoy every second of the death and misery he wrought.

Then, the human within him screamed out. No… NOOO!

With a gasp, Victor bashed his head into the rock wall. Pain jolted into his skull. He collapsed to the floor, panting and clutching his head with a claw. But the beast within had been repelled; the images were gone. For the moment. But now there existed a part of him that desired nothing less than to relish in the thrill of tearing into prey. A part that longed to degenerate into a bloodthirsty animal.

Victor sunk his head onto the ground, wallowing in the void his mind had turned into. Why eat and drink, and prolong a monster’s life? Why escape, and unleash this savage beast upon the world? Why warn the civilised world, when there existed the risk of losing control over his instincts, and kill innocents in a bloodcrazed rage? Why go back to the cult, when that would be accepting this curse for what it was?

Why would he try to cheer himself up? He didn’t deserve happiness. Not after becoming a dragon. Not after being responsible for getting his friends and family killed. All he deserved was misery. Pain. Agony. And that is precisely what is happening to him, as the gods always intended. Everything was his own fault. He deserves this pain, every bit of it. His eyes watered with the pain of reality.

His attention fell upon a rock lying besides him.. It was about the size of his claws, and could make a good weapon should the need arise. He picked it up. The rock had the shape of an oval, and was blunt. Perfect for attacking, too perfect, in fact. As if it had been put there. Victor nodded sheepishly. The message couldn’t be any clearer.

Yes, gods. I will do as you wish.

Victor stretched his left foreleg out before him. With the rock firm in his right claw, he stared at his monstrous limb with scorn. Those crimson scales, painted with the blood of the innocent, and those sickening white talons, gleaming like scythes in the blue glow. It was an abomination. All of it. With a deep gasp, Victor raised the rock, and slammed it right into his left claw.

“ROOOAAAAGHHH!”

A roar shot of his throat when the rock connected. His left claw shook on the ground, begging him to stop. But he had to keep going. He had to fight this monster, lest it hurt anyone. Once more he took in a deep breath, raised the rock, and slammed it down.

“Ngggghhh!!”

He kept going, and going, biting his way through the pain. Every strike increased his pain twofold, and his body pleaded with him for mercy. But in his soul arose the pleasant sense of justice. Terris would soon be free of one monster, and all the better off for it. When the sound of bones cracking reached his ears, he finally stopped. A tint of red now colored the rock. His claw had been mashed into pulp: blood spilled out between his dented scales, and his fingers quivered in agony. Warmth radiated throughout his body.

But his work wasn’t done yet. Still the filthy creature lived on, its bloodlust laid bare with every breath released from its demonic maw. He rose onto his hind legs, and prepared to drive the rock into the beast’s heart. Justice drew near.

“Vykroz, NOO!”

Out of the blue, a golden shadow pounced. Victor dropped the rock, as he crashed into the ground. He was rolled off of his belly, and met with his father’s solemn stare.

“Son, what is happen- what happened to your claw?” Lothar eyed the bloody foreleg. His expression was one of sheer horror.

“It’s not what it seems,” Victor said. But his father knew what had happened.

“Nonononono, son don’t do this, please...” Tears fell upon his chest, as the golden dragon hugged him tight. His emotions buried, Victor remained silent. But deep within, he never felt as guilty in his life as he did in that moment.