The finlike structure of my blackened head was riddled with holes after the first war. The long slender body of mine was battered and bruised during the second. My razor-sharp teeth held neither ferocity nor might after the third. The fourth would have been mine less they gathered and plotted against me. My kin, those I held dear, defeated me time and time again. They ripped the bones from beneath my flesh without hesitation, yet I returned anew for the fifth cycle. I learned from father that I could no longer escape my faith. I was destined to rise each time and die again. I loathed my faith, but it was not mine to change. How I longed for the day when I could crush all beneath my feet. Show all the might of I, the only Beisht Kione known to live. I was born an anomaly to my dragonkin, feared by all because of my differences.

My brothers committed their sinful acts against father without him knowing. How laughable, the great knower of all failed to know the true nature of his sons. I should have shown him their nature, in hindsight. It would have been easier that way. I couldn't have known they would have forced all the blame on me after father finally caught on. Father believed them far too quickly for my liking, it would have been better if he at least contemplated it a little.

They chained me first, all four of them, while father stood by and watched. Their magnificent wings and jaded eyes always fascinated me, but no more. Dragons were not the creatures of old that the weak humans made them out to be. No, they were no better than the worms beneath my feet. I birthed my hatred for them at this moment perhaps. They later beat me near death before casting me to shadows and still father didn't bat an eye. Unbeknownst to them, I thrived in the shadows. It strengthened me as I strengthened it. I blessed my own race of humans like my brothers did, blessed with my power as well as that of the shadows. It was then that the first war started.

Four defeats later and without ever conquering Valeria, I stared as father once again watched on. My body had finally renewed, ready for the fifth war against my brothers. This was beginning to become a pointless struggle against faith. I stared at the battlefield that was yet to be renewed, at the tattered remains of one of my brother's eyes. I was tempted to crush it, but I resisted. His eyes were the sharpest of all of us. Some said they could see into the future. I hated him because of it. He was partially to blame for my constant defeats.

I sighed as I grabbed the eye in front of me. I did try my best to resist it, but my hatred was stronger than my resolve. I squeezed with all my might, knowing that it made no difference. Suddenly, I saw a vision. Somewhere I saw my chosen champion that would cut the ties of faith that bound me to this wretched cycle. Good, I smiled as I let the blood ooze from the hand. The fifth war will come soon enough, this time I will be victorious!