Chapter 22

Never had a greater terror reigned over Lothar, than over the last few weeks. The loss of brethren in blood and faith, the separation from his family, or the drama between his fellow commanders; none of it held a candle to the nightmare of his son’s reaction to the Blessing.

Why, why did I do that? Divinity, How could I have been so foolish? How could I inflict such despair onto my own flesh and blood, my very own child? I should have given him the time to accept the blessing... I am so, so sorry, son…

Vykroz the Red, or Victor as he demanded to be called, had slipped into a void. It was as if all energy and willpower had been drained from him. Most of the time, he slept. A never ending demand for rest gnawed at his body. Eating anything but fruit was out of the question, even though fruits were but a compliment to a dragon’s diet. As for drinking, he wouldn’t stomach a drop, unless it was served in a bowl.

And this melancholy upon Vykroz’s soul had dire consequences for his body. He went from having a slight belly, to a meager mess of a dragon. His eyes were lazy and bloodshot, his cheeks always shined in the light, and his jaws chattered for days on end.

Lothar’s paranoia left him unable to stay away from his son for long. All too frequently, his son would snap and fly into another bout of madness. Every attempt at cheering his son up, whether it be baby talk or hugging or stroking him with his talons, they all ended in failure. Vykroz wouldn’t say a word back, no matter how strong Lothar’s emotions. The golden dragon always walked away defeated, and sulked himself into a nap.

Why, son? What has gotten ahold of you, to make you hate yourself so? Please, talk…”

* * *

Why. Why am I still here. How am I still in this body? Why have no gods shown mercy to me?!

Silent screams. That’s what he had been reduced to. Victor squeezed his inhuman eyelids down as hard as he could. How long had this gone on? A week? A month? Years? Whatever the answer might be, one thing was certain: It was far too long.

The hospital room had been gutted: Any and all things he could’ve used to end the pain had been taken away: His amulet and straw nest was all he had. Here he led a life of never-ending sleep and agony, bothered only by other beasts keeping him fed, and that selfish bastard of a father trying to coax him into ‘seeing the joy in life again’.

But joy had long faded. The lone trace of it left dangled around his neck. He took the amulet within one of his claws. Not so long ago, it was the lone connection with his father he had. And now, that little silver piece was all he had left of what he once was. All the people he knew and trusted, the joyous times, the incredible places he’d seen, the peaceful life he had with his mother and sister, gone.

Thrown away, to become a monster. A monster with no purpose, but to hunt. To kill and destroy. Those memories now haunted his every waking moment, like a continuous stream of salt being poured onto an open wound. None more so… than his promise.

By the time I’m done, people will wonder what on Terris you’re even talking about when you say the word ‘Draconism’, I promise you!

So innocuous at the time, a playful little boast, that now stung deep into his flesh. He had betrayed his best friend, the man who always managed to cheer him up no matter how bad things got. He betrayed his cause, and became the very thing he swore to fight against. How would Eric and William react now, seeing him like this? Lingering on it intensified his pain.

A loud whine rolled out of his throat, akin to a deep, throaty growl. As if the knife hadn’t been twisted in deep enough already, here his own body reminded him of his newfound monsterdom. Every so often, he’d get an impulse. To go out, and use those sharp claws and teeth to hunt. To spread his wings, and roar into the wild blue yonder, bringing terror upon the defenseless. And many other grim urges. If he did nothing, those urges will get the better of him one day, and innocents would die by his talons..

No. He couldn’t allow it. The idea alone broke his heart. But his captors wouldn’t allow him to prevent it. They had removed all sizeable rocks and hard objects from his cell, and put a sentry on guard duty. The gods alone had the power to stop him now.

But perhaps his captors might show him mercy. They no longer attempted to feed him meat, resorting instead to various nuts and berries. Perhaps they might give up on him. Or his father would finally understand that Victor Miller would never accept this sub existence, and finish him off. Until then, he rested his bestial head, waiting for judgement day to arrive.

* * *

A downpour held the Origin Mountains in its grasp. Fall had arrived in full force: the regular trees let go of their leaves, and the mushroom colonies arose upon the damp grass. Not a pretty day for flying. Merahn sighed, and walked back into the base.

“Merahn, do you have time to spare?” a voice called out to her upon entering the temple. It was Raghes.

“What is it now, you blue fool?” Merahn said, annoyed. Her cravings for a flight made her wings flutter.

Raghes shook his head; his tail tip tapped in a rhythm on the floor. “No, I don’t want to bother you at all. I just need someone to talk to.”

“About what?“ Merahn stretched her wings open. “Don’t keep me waiting, please.”

“It’s about Lothar. I’m concerned about him.” The blue dragon sighed, and lowered himself onto the cold marble. Merahn followed suit. “This whole matter with his child… I think it has broken him. And I don’t know what will happen next.”

Merahn’s gaze dwindled off into the temple out of shame. “Well, that is something else. I’ve talked with Novekk about it. Lothar is worried sick about that son of his. Novekk said he comes in to check up on the poor child every other hour, clearly stressed out of his mind. He's even asked me to take his son under my wing, and train him alongside Chalroth.”

“But wasn’t his son healing just fine? This may be a stupid question, but what has happened, exactly?” Raghes asked, his tail twitching curiously in the air.

“They...” Merahn paused, and rolled a soft rumble from her throat. “He’s had him receive the blessing, with full honours might I add. I thought it would be joyous, but his son just… switched off. He’s been mute, he won’t eat anything but soft fruits, and seemed miserable all around,” she said. Raghes licked at his chops.

“No one thought much of it, we all believed the child would grow out of his melancholic spell, and feel the joy of the blessing, but no. By the next day, Lothar had transformed into the wreck he is now. Other people had to take over his duties, that’s how bad it is.”

“But why has this happened?” Raghes asked.

A cold jolt launched up Merahn’s spine. “This is grim, Raghes. Really grim. His son attempted to end his own life. Several times. Novekk diagnosed him, and said he’s destroyed mentally. He has lost the willpower, it seems like.”

Raghes gasped. “Lose the will to live? But how can you-”

“No one knows, not even Novekk does. Especially not after the blessing. Either way, it’s made Lothar so fragile. He's afraid to step out the base entirely, and he's ordered that someone must stand guard besides his son at all times.” Merahn shook her head. “I don’t get it, I really don’t.” Her voice echoed up towards the ceiling, and faded away into the ethereal.

* * *

“You have visitors, Vykroz.”

The sentry’s tail flicked about into the room. Victor groaned. He detested that name they came up with. ‘Vykroz’. It sounded otherworldly, anything but human. If he had the courage to speak, he would have rebuked. That cursed name was his nadir.

“Heheheh...” A toothy grin spread over the sentry’s snout. “You might think you hate the blessing now, but eventually you'll be roaring along with the rest of us,” he said, as he got up to leave. Dragging his tail on the ground, he made room for the visitor. By the smell of plant mixtures and various fruits alone, Victor knew it was Novekk.

“Why hello there, Vykroz! How are you today?” the black dragon said, placing a colorful bowl before the red dragon. Victor groaned from a jolt of agony. Whether the name, his ability to recognize by smell, or the sentry’s parting words caused it, he didn’t know. “Still not feeling too well? Oh, don’t worry about it, my silly friend. Soon you’ll meet your teacher and a fellow student, soon-to-be-friend! Life as a dragon isn’t so shabby, you’ll see.” Novekk nudged his shoulder in a friendly manner.

Teacher? Student? Now it truly begins…

Novekk sniffed the air. “Oh, don’t cry. There is nothing to be sad over, I promise! On the contrary, there’s everything to be happy about! You’ll learn flying, and break out of this bubble you’ve put yourself in!”

“I don’t want to.”

Out of nowhere, Victor had found a trace of strength within him. He hardly believed it. That was supposed to have vanished when he transformed, yet here it was.

“Uh? Say that again?” Novekk pressed the tip of his snout against the base of Victor’s horns. “You don’t want to learn, Vykroz?”

“No,” Victor said. “I don’t want to learn about dragons. I want to be human again.” Again the strength manifested, to Victor’s surprise. Deep down, he wanted freedom from this pain. To cast aside the void, and pick up the pieces of his life. Though the offers of continued journeys into his dreams were sweet as candy, he fought on.

“Oh, is that how you truly feel? Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Novekk asked. Victor fell silent, unsure of how to respond. The black dragon stroked the back of his neck with several talons. “Take your time, as long as you need. It’s okay.”

Victor rolled a growl from the depths of his throat. “Because… I didn’t believe your kind would take it very well,” he said. His voice was still recognizable, albeit deeper. A small relief, but a relief nonetheless.

“Nonono, I have no issue with that. I just want to see you be happy, Vykroz,” Novekk said.

The red dragon frowned. “You can start by calling me Victor.”

“Sure thing, if that makes you happier. Is there anything else I can do to help you, Victor?”

Again did Victor let out a groan. Though Novekk appeared friendly and trustworthy enough, he still worried about earning the black dragon’s scorn. “Tell me, is there a way to make me human again?”

Novekk leaned backwards. “Human? Why? Does something about dragonhood ail you, Victor?”

“Yes.” Victor’s blue eyes welled up. He tilted his head, and let the tears stream down his cheeks. “ I have never, never felt so miserable before...” His head sank back to the floor, defeated and crying.

“Hmm, I wonder what causes your pain, though. No one else emerged from their blessing this way, and I’ve been serving as a doctor for five years,” Novekk said, tapping a talon on his chin.

“I didn’t ask for this, doctor. Never in a million years did I ask if I could join your cult.” Victor paused to sniff, clearing the slime from his stuffy nostrils. “Why did you do this to me? I wanted to go back home, not get turned into a monster.”

Novekk chuckled. “Monster? You’re no monster, silly goose. You’re a dragon.”

Of course, monsters never see themselves as monsters. “Oh yeah? Then what are these teeth for?” Victor opened his maw. Teeth as sharp as knives lined his jaws, enough space for a human head in between. Beyond his pointed tongue lay a grim omen for whatever prey would fall victim to this aberration. “Or what about these claws, or these horns? What about those massive wings and my eyes having the ability to see tiny details from miles away, and the fact that I can determine who’s who by their smell now!”

“But, Victor. Who’s preventing you from doing good with them?” Novekk said.

“My own body is telling me to!!!” Victor cried out. Novekk didn’t so much as flinch. “I swear, it doesn’t stop. And it just keeps getting worse, I start picturing myself mauling whatever comes to mind first... Everytime I see or smell meat I feel this… desire to go hunt, and do wicked things to living creatures. Or whenever I’m bored, my body’s begging me to roar, and I picture myself doing it in front of innocent people…!”

With a gasp, Victor repeatedly punched himself in the chest. Talking about his urges had brought his self-loathing back in full force. He kept at it, until Novekk grabbed his foreleg with both claws.

“Stop that, Victor. You have nothing to gain by hurting yourself.”

Victor shook his head, and let out a heavy sigh. “I just want it to stop.”

“Don’t worry,” Novekk said, as he let go of Victor’s leg. “We’ll teach you how to control those urges. They won’t be the master of you, I promise.” He raised a claw, and winked. Victor timidly nodded, and the two dragons shook each other's claws. A small gesture, that nevertheless gave Victor hope.

“Merahn will be here for you tomorrow,” Novekk continued. “She’ll teach you how to control those urges, while I’ll search for a way to turn you back. Is that all good?”

“Yes,” Victor said.

“You can count on me, I promise. Have a pleasant day, my red friend!” The black dragon smiled, and hummed as he walked away, tail swishing through the air. Victor grabbed a piece of fruit from the bowl, and gently nibbled on it.

I can only hope, doctor.

* * *

Lothar bowed his head before his shrine. “Please, oh mighty Divinity, please make my son recover from this horrible black magic,” he muttered, gritting his teeth and rasping his breaths. “Your benevolence and beauty are unparalleled across the entirety of Terris, oh mighty lord Divinity, please have mercy upon my child.”

On and on he continued, repeating his pleas for a miracle cure in between lavish praise for his divine overlord. The praise grew absurder as he kept praying, from crediting Divinity as the master of creation, to thanking the god for giving him strength to wake up every morning. Lothar’s limbs buckled onto the cold dirt. Sacrificing comfort meant little to him. At least, not until he received a message from above to tone it down, which he obeyed without question.

After a satisfying feeling bubbled in his bloodstream, Lothar ended his prayers, and shuffled back onto his nest. A short nap before dinner sounded pleasant to his ears. He lowered his head, and closed his eyes. Alas, his sleep was cut short by clicking claws, and Novekk’s smell dancing in his nostrils. With a grunt, he opened his eyes to see the black dragon stand astute before him.

“My lord, I have news of your son.”

In an eyeblink, Lothar jumped on all fours. “You do? Tell me, is it good news?”

Novekk nodded. “Yes, it is. Victor has finally regained the ability to speak, and I’ve learned-”

“His name is Vykroz, Novekk. He is not human any longer.” Lothar stared down upon the black dragon with disapproval in his eyes.

“But, my lord,” Novekk paused to gulp down saliva. “He doesn’t want to be called Vykroz.You can ask him yourself.”

Lothar grunted awkwardly, and scratched at an itch on the base of his neck. “My son does not accept his dragon name? But why? That is the name of Reval’s greatest knight, how could he not be honored?”

Novekk’s limbs tensed up. “Because, my lord… I think it’s because he hates being a dragon, and everything associated with it.”

“WHAT?!” shouted Lothar, “What did you say?!”

“Well, um...” Novekk’s scales clattered against one another, as chills battered his body. “Your son hates that he’s been turned into a drag-”

Lothar breathed in deep, and unleashed an agonizing roar. Novekk ran out of the lair. His tail tip quivered in the entrance, as the black dragon hid outside.”How is this possible?! I…” he let out a belated, long sigh, and lowered his head in shame. Novekk peeked into the lair with wide open eyes. He said nothing.

“Novekk…” said Lothar, still hanging his head low, “How does he truly feel about the blessing? Be honest...”

The black dragon swallowed his saliva in between shaky breaths. “He, uhh, openly asked me if there was a way to become human again, I’m serious, m-my lord.”

With a ragged gasp, Lothar buried his snout under his claws. “Oh, Divinity… What have I done?”

“My lord…”

The lair fell silent. Novekk sat and watched, as Lothar quietly sulked to himself, rubbing his eyes dry.

“I have made a terrible mistake... Why did I force him into this, without ever considering his own well being?” muttered Lothar under his breath.

After some time of tiresome lamentations, Novekk grunted. “You shouldn't punish yourself over it, Lothar. Is there not a way to turn him human again?”

Lothar sighed. “There is, but… It is an extraordinary task. We must first acquire the reagents needed, of which we have none. Then, we must cross the seas to the north, to the frigid Snowcap Island. Any other cold place will do, but we need extreme cold to turn him back. And then there is the matter of getting a priest to perform the ritual. You know how devoted they are to Draconism, Novekk. But… I will do whatever it takes for my son to be happy again.”

Novekk smiled. “Victor will love to hear that, I’m sure of it. I’ll tell him later, unless you want to.”

“I will tell him myself,” Lothar said. “I have hurt him enough already, and I want to repent.”

“That’s fine by me. Have a blessed night, Lothar.”

“Good night, doctor Novekk.”

At last, Lothar could rest. The conversation had given him much to think over during his dreams. Now he understood his son’s stupor, even if it wasn’t pretty. What had been intended as a gift had been received as a curse. The golden dragon shuddered upon his nest. Years of zealotry had culminated into this. A bitter regret coursed through his veins. But now, the early signs of dawn approached on the horizon. There was now a path, a way out of these abyssal depths…

*huff, huff, huff,*

The rapid taps of talons clicking against the rocks sounded in the tunnels. With a growl, Lothar lifted his head back up. Once again, his nap was cut short. A dark blue shape screeched to a halt right in front of his lair. It was Raghes.

“My lord! There has been an awful development, you must hear of it!”

“Calm down, Raghes!” Lothar gestured at the blue dragon with his claw. “I am attempting to rest here, Divinity damn you!”

Raghes frowned. “This is far more important than your afternoon nap, Lothar. Lives are at stake here, so I’d appreciate it if you-”

The lair filled with a terrifying rumbling sound. Lothar’s throat vibrated; his slitted eyes stared down upon Raghes with abject hatred. “Listen carefully, Raghes… Either spit out whatever is urgent enough to disturb my rest, or I will tear your throat out, disrespectful cur.”

Raghes gritted his teeth, and swallowed a trickle of saliva. “i-I’m sorry, lord Lothar.”

“You better be.”

“Right, right. Our scouts near the Westedge Pass spotted imperial troops marching towards Westedge. None of our human allies had any idea this was going to happen,” Raghes said.

“And you are certain this is not a simple regimental rotation, Raghes?”

Raghes nodded. “Yes, my lord. First off, there were far more bowmen amidst their ranks, which is highly unusual. But, when they crossed the pass, they had a mage cast an invisibility spell on them first. We don’t know what’s happening, but I don’t like the looks of it.”

Lothar’s eyes widened. “You do not believe… they have discovered our home, have they?”

“I do think that is the case, my lord.”

“Then we need to prepare, and fast!” Lothar shouted. “Hurry, Raghes. Inform as many scouts as you can to patrol the mountains between the base and Westedge, immediately! Our brothers and sisters must be prepared for battle at once, hurry!”

“y-Yes, my lord!” Raghes turned tail, and sprinted back out of the den. Alas, any chances of Lothar receiving his well earned rest had dwindled away into nothing. The survival of the Draconist Rebellion depended upon these crucial few hours.

Dinner will come soon. I will address my brothers and sisters then. Those imperial dogs will regret this, I swear...