Luna
The Memory of Sacrifice
It was not hard to escape her mother’s laughable attempt at keeping her in the castle. A few months ago, she would have obeyed, oblivious to her true power. But since then, the voice had taught her how to use her abilities to their full potential. It and the god-dragon both. The voice was still there, a quiet presence in the back of her head, always watching, always listening, but rarely ever speaking. But Pyrdacor… She would not feign affection for him, but there was a connection between them, something that went deeper than the one between a mentor and his trainee. He had done the impossible for her, he had given her another chance at life and with Simia absent, he was the closest thing she had for a father. And with her mother… turning her back on her, Pyrdacor was the only one she could approach.
The guards did not see her as she moved past them, slipping from shadow to shadow, fast and silent. Vayadona could have probably even killed them, but the thought of consciously harming another elf horrified her the moment it crept into her mind, so very much that it actually made her pause. It was a dark, alien thought and as if it noticed her reaction to it, it faded and did not return. No, she would not harm them, she would protect them. She was their future queen and with the god-dragon’s secrets and the voice’s tutelage, she would lead them into a golden future.
She had left a small illusion in her room, a little trick the voice had taught her. A guard or any of the servants who could possibly enter her room would see her still there, fast asleep. Of course it would not fool her mother, but then again, it had been three weeks since their falling out and Queen Orima hadn’t visited her once. Why should tonight be any different?
And indeed, her mother did not show herself as Vayadona sneaked through the nightly hallways, always beneath notice. It was deceptively simple and she was able to leave the castle in no time, slipping through the open gate and hiding in the shadow of the walls to avoid any prying eyes. In fact, she had to wonder just how easy it was to slip out of the castle unnoticed. Perhaps Pyrdacor had a hand in this. Though he was not even nearly as divine as he was always claiming, his powers were immense, incomprehensible even. And from beyond the city, where his primordial forest realm bordered on her mother’s kingdom, he was calling for her, his voice a mere whisper in the wind, meant only for her ears and carrying with it a faint taste of blood and fire.
It was not hard to find him. Vayadona felt drawn to the god-dragon, this creature who had brought her into this world. She had no memory of her father, Simia, the very name only spoken in reverence by the other elves and in sorrow by her mother. No matter how hard she tried, at most she could recall a faint feeling of grief whenever she thought of him, the mere idea of fatherly warmth and comfort, but no actual memories, not of her father, nor her mother or of anyone else who claimed to have known her before. Some, such as Ometheon and Lysira, had grown closer to her again, others would forever remain strangers. At the same time, she remembered every word she ever spoke with Pyrdacor, his lessons having burned themselves into her mind. He was terrifying and magnificent and now that he called for her, she would follow.
He was waiting for her as expected, just outside of Tie’Shanna’s walls, his elven form hidden beneath the midnight trees. Some days it felt as if the borders of his woodland realm were constantly changing, sometimes recoiling from the elven capital, sometimes creeping closer. Tonight, it was the latter, the trees were clearly closer to the walls than ever before. A whole army could sneak up on Tie’Shanna under such cover and yet, all she saw was the god-dragon himself, his eyes two golden, flaming orbs, staring at her, silently scanning the area.
“Lord Pyrdacor”, she greeted him and though she could see nothing but those solid, golden eyes of his and a hint of the brazen flesh around, she noticed them subtly narrowing, just for a second. She took a deep breath, but where everyone else would have bowed or even knelt in front of him, she remained standing, meeting his gaze with respect, but without fear. That’s how her mother was looking at him and until now, Vayadona had considered her the only being in this world capable of such defiance. But she herself was no longer afraid of him. She knew what he was, to her, to her people, to this world. “Father”, she added.
The golden orbs widened and from the shadow one clawed arm reached closer. A flame appeared in his palm, illuminating his form. In this dark night, it seemed even less elven than usual. His skin was an even darker shade of gold, his forehead and his bare shoulders covered in thick, golden scales, the pair of horns on his head heavier and larger than before, more a crown even than the jewels and golden chains that hung from them.
“Welcome, Pyrdona”, he spoke, his voice smooth, his breath scalding, a growl hidden beneath his words, so impossibly deep that it made her skin crawl. She clenched one fist as she heard this name. Pyrdona… his name for her, not the one her mother had given to her. Better, but not yet perfect, not yet her own. Even then, she gave him a nod. “You have called for me”, she whispered.
The flame in his palm illuminated his face, beautiful beyond measure, as perfect and divine as the statues her mother had commissioned of her father. A thin, pleased smile appeared on it. “I have heard of your… predicament, my dear”, he replied. “Your mother has seen something within you, something she is afraid of, something she called a darkness. In her narrow mind, she blamed me for planting it within you” He turned around and slightly waved his hand at her. “Follow me”, he spoke. “We shall discuss a great many things, including your mother’s accusations”
He began to walk and Vayadona followed without hesitation, down the path that led into Zze Tha, though the road quickly disappeared beneath her feet as he led her off the paved street and into the wilderness. With Pyrdacor around, every living being was dead silent, from the mightiest predators to the smallest animal in the trees. The entire jungle was holding its breath, a million tiny gazes focussed on the god-dragon and the elven princess.
“You did nothing of the sort?”, Vayadona asked and the god-dragon chuckled, as softly as he could, yet still with enough force to make the bushes around him tremble. “I brought you back exactly as you were”, he claimed. “She thought that would mean you’d be exactly as she wanted you to be, but as it turned out, her memory of you and the truth differ wildly. You have never been her obedient, demure daughter, there has always been ambition within you, a potential for greatness that almost equals mine. The truth is, my dear, that you are perfect and though this fact may seem simple to a weaker mind, perfection in itself is always complex”
“He speaks of truth, but his words are laced in lies”, the voice whispered in her head and Vayadona nearly flinched. It hadn’t spoken to her in days and it was quiet immediately after saying these words, but it nonetheless served as a brief reminder that she was still being watched, still being judged by this immeasurable presence, the one that had been with her in the nothingness before Pyrdacor had brought her back.
“Be wary of him, princess, always be wary”It didn’t have to warn her, not even now, with Pyrdacor smiling at her with downright affection. “You do not believe me?”, he asked and Vayadona shook her head, still without any fear. “Do you blame me for not trusting a dragon?”, she asked. Pyrdacor was quiet for a moment, then his smile widened, revealing the sharp tips of his teeth. “I say it proves my point”, he replied. “Perfection includes wisdom, something most mortals lack. Yes, princess, I lie as often as I tell the truth. I have uplifted some mortals to untold heights and I have betrayed and devoured others. For this, I have been praised by countless generations and vilified by others. I have been both in mortal tales, saviour and destroyer” He glanced over his shoulder, his narrow gaze fully fixed on the princess. “You are different from them”, he added. “Are you wise enough to understand why I did what I did? Why I brought devastation and salvation, mercy and death?”
Vayadona thought of his question as she followed him deeper into the underbrush. It was dark, almost entirely pitch black, only Pyrdacor’s eyes and the small flame in his hand illuminating the narrow path ahead. “It’s not a hard question”, she replied, even though she had thought of her reply carefully. “You said it yourself, you are a god, perhaps not by birth, but nonetheless by right. You defied the gods themselves to save the lizardfolk and just centuries later you let your brood loose on the dwarven holds and nearly drive their race to extinction. Your enemies are immortal, gods, giants and dragons”
“I’m flattered you’ve learned my history, but I’m afraid this is not an answer to my question”, Pyrdacor replied, his tone almost dry if not for the feral growl that followed each of his words. Vayadona shot him a brief smirk. “Isn’t it?”, she asked. “My mother is different from you. She wants to protect her people and… I believe she genuinely cares for each and every one of them, on a personal level even” She looked up and met his gaze without fear. Deep within those golden orbs of his, she realized that he was intrigued by her reply. “That’s what makes her weaker than you”
“She is weaker than me, the blind queen”, Pyrdacor confirmed. “The most formidable mortal I have ever met, but even her might pales in comparison to that of my accursed brothers and the gods who made us” Vayadona gave him a nod. “And that’s the correct answer”, she revealed. “Mother is concerned with the lives of the people around them, she wants a good and safe future for this generation, for her friends…”
“Even for you”, Pyrdacor interjected. “In her own way” Vayadona immediately shook her head. “Then she shouldn’t have turned her back on me when I needed her most”, she hissed and her gaze hardened, as she almost glared at the god-dragon for a second. “You are a god and your goals are grander than hers could ever be. You are concerned with the lives of races, of entire worlds and the gods themselves. Sometimes you are benevolent, sometimes you are cruel, but everything you do furthers your plans and they are so complex that no mortal could grasp them”
Pyrdacor’s smile disappeared and his face froze, before he turned around again. “Not as brave an answer as I have hoped for, but nonetheless the correct one”, he confirmed. “I expected nothing less from you. Many mortals have tried to grasp my intentions and they have all failed miserably, for I don’t think in mortal ways. Your mother and her kind think in years, decades and centuries, but my plans span eons” He nodded at her, barely so. “No mortal could hope to understand them in full. There is wisdom in understanding your limitations, Pyrdona, for you are not a goddess”, he mumbled and his expression, already barely visible in the dim twilight, became calm and utterly inscrutable. A cold chill ran down Vayadona’s back. “Not yet”, he added.
“Not… yet?”, she asked, hurrying after him, as the god-dragon picked up his pace. “Yes!”, he growled. “You are strong, princess, so full of potential. The gods once destined you to die against the Nameless Horde, to die an elf, weak, pitiful and way beyond her prime. They destined me to be a keeper, a warden of the elements, eternally a servant, just like my brothers” His voice rose, now agitated and the growl within it grew stronger. The wind picked up, playing with his hair and hers, bushes around them cracked, as tiny animals turned to flee from the god-dragons presence. Right next to him, a thick centipede as long as Vayadona’s forearm crawled from a hole within a tree, desperate to get away from Pyrdacor.
“But I have risen above my position, I have used the gods’ gifts against them and I have become a god in my own right, the master of my fate!”, Pyrdacor continued, his voice no longer a calm, affable whisper, but a roaring force of nature. “And I see in you the same potential I once saw in myself. With the right mentor, you will follow in my footsteps. It will be a harsh path, one full of sacrifice and pain, but one that will see you become more than any elf has been before you”
Vayadona’s heartbeat fastened and with wide eyes she stared at the dragon. Though his form remained perceivably elven, she saw something else behind him, perhaps a glimpse of his true form, intangible, yet radiating enough power to make her sight blur. “I have called upon you tonight to ask you this one question”, he continued. “Are you ready to follow my path? Will you fully submit yourself to my teachings, so that one day you will live up to the potential I see within you?”
Her breaths had become faster, her entire body trembling, her gaze fixed solely on Pyrdacor. It was not a question, not something she could have ever refused. This was what she had been working towards, this was what she could hope for in this life. She would follow his teachings, she would become a goddess in her own right, she would lead her people into a golden future. “Yes”, she gasped.
Immediately, the wind calmed. The sheer power that was radiating from Pyrdacor in one moment was gone in the next, hidden again deep within him. “Good”, the god-dragon growled. “Then let me tell you what it means to be divine. It will be a lonely road. You will gain power and you will sacrifice” He narrowed his eyes. “I already told you what I sacrificed, did I not?”
Vayadona nodded, still remembering their conversation from a few months ago. “The gods have granted you mastery over all six elements”, she repeated. The god-dragon bared his teeth and this time, it was decidedly not a smile. “I was appointed to guard the six elements of this sphere and I have been granted the keys to the six citadels”, he confirmed. “But I was bold enough to take their power for myself, no longer a servant of the gods, but their equal”
“The servant may rise up and break his chains, but that doesn’t make him an equal to his master”, the voice hissed, its tone notably more spiteful than usual.
“He is strong and cunning, but a true god is born, not made. Still, listen to him, princess, for he is a useful ally to have. Learn from him, serve him until you have surpassed him”“As you know, the gods decided to destroy the lizardfolk race. They claimed their time was up, that their empire had to fall to make room for the younger races”, Pyrdacor continued and his tone was oozing contempt. “I disagreed… vehemently. Renewal is important to this world, but it doesn’t have to come with the death of billions. They decided to kill them off by cooling this sphere, but did not expect me to use my gifts against them, to the point where I sacrificed my mastery over the element of ice to contain their wrath. The northern half of this world was covered in ice, but here in the south, in Zze Tha, life continued to grow. The sun still shines upon my garden and my people thrive within it”
“It was noble of you”, Vayadona spoke and Pyrdacor sighed. “And yet, it left me… imperfect”, he spoke. “To you, giving up mastery over one element when I still have complete control of the other five may seem like a tiny sacrifice, but to me it is as crippling as losing an eye. It left a permanent scar on my very being and to this day, I have not managed to regain what was lost. Ice still avoids my grasp, when even the least talented among the mortal mages can control the cold to some degree” He pressed those words through his teeth and the light in his eyes seemed dimmer in this moment, the darkness almost swallowing her and the god-dragon both. “It is most… infuriating”, he added. “But such is the nature of the divine. You will gain power beyond even your wildest imagination, but you will also sacrifice what you hold dear”
“I understand”, Vayadona claimed and the light in Pyrdacor’s eyes flared up again. “You will”, the god-dragon replied with a mild chuckle in his voice. “I would teach you how to control all six of the elements, but unfortunately, I remain dreadfully incapable of shaping ice to my will” His smile returned, genuine and terrifying and the flame in his hand flared up. “For the time being, let us begin with the opposite of cold. Ever since I sacrificed the key of ice, I have been left imbalanced, with an abundance of heat. If you wish to follow in my footsteps, you too must learn how to shape fire to your will” Somewhere in the distance, a woman screamed and Vayadona tensed up. Pyrdacor, however, did not seem to notice it and it would remain the only noise of this kind, indeed the only one that disturbed the silence.
He continued to lead her down the path for a minute or two until they entered a sizeable clearing. The trees here were ancient and tall, but they all stayed clear of the centre and from there, Vayadona could see the stars far above them. The sight took her breath for a moment. She had seen the nightly sky many times from her mother’s palace, but never like this. In Tie’Shanna, the skies were just as clear, but lights from the city below her would often block out the stars far above her. Zze Tha however had few cities and they were all located deeper within the jungle. As such, the black sky was littered with tiny dots of light, enough to brightly illuminate the clearing despite the darkness that lurked beneath the trees.
While she stood there for a moment, just taking in the beauty of this nightly sky, Pyrdacor walked up to the centre of the clearing. “Fire is simple to conjure, but hard to master. It is born of emotion and as such, true mastery over fire demands true mastery over yourself”, he explained. While he spoke, he knelt down at the centre of the clearing, one hand pressed onto the ground. Between his fingers, a vibrant, green light shone, though it faded a second later, as he rose to his feet again. Where he had placed his hand, a tiny plant had grown, not more than a sapling.
“It is time, Pyrdona”, the god-dragon growled. “I will test you, I will give you the chance to prove your worth” He looked at her, calmly judging her from head to toe. “I will provoke a reaction from you, my dear, a severe one”, he added, before he reached out for her. Lesser elves would have recoiled in horror, but Vayadona remained standing as the god-dragon placed one clawed hand on her cheek. His skin was rough and hot, but by no means unbearable and she even managed to smile back at him. “It will be necessary”, he mumbled, his tone gentle and his expression soft. “Forgive me for what is going to happen tonight”
“There is nothing to forgive”, Vayadona replied. “I chose to be here. I chose this path, myl… father” Pyrdacor’s expression was inscrutable as always, but this time, she’d like to believe that there was a hint of pride on his face. “I would never doubt it”, he confirmed. “Let us begin then” He flicked his fingers and behind him, the sapling began to glow in the same vibrant green she had seen within his hand just moments ago. Before her eyes, the plant began to grow rapidly, taller and wider, from a sapling to a sturdy young tree in less than a minute.
“In our past lessons, we have only spoken about theory, which mortal mages often claim to be the most important aspect of magic”, Pyrdacor explained. “It is a ridiculous thought, but given their general ignorance, it can be forgiven. Theory, while never useless, is quite certainly one of the least important aspects of magic. Anyone can study arcane theory, but power? No, my dear, nothing is more important than raw power” He narrowed his eyes and gave her a long, judging look. “Something I believe you have… quite in abundance”
He placed one hand on Vayadona’s back and this time, as she felt his razor-sharp claws resting on the thin fabric of her cloak, she tensed up. “You… want me to use magic?”, she asked. It was a rhetorical question, of course. All elves were gifted mages and though she had not yet used her talents in front of any witnesses, the voice had taught her in the ways of healing for months now, not just how to treat injuries in a profane way, but also how to heal more advanced afflictions with the use of magic. But what Pyrdacor just implied would go way beyond all that she had learned so far.
“It does not”, the voice chimed in, softly, but sternly.
“Healing magic is more complex, it requires a stronger focus and I have taught you well. You will exceed his wildest expectations tonight, princess” Though Pyrdacor was speaking gently with her and though he had been nothing but cordial so far, the voice’s presence was calming. It meant that she was not alone with the god-dragon.
“But do not tell him that you have already learned healing magic, for it will only gain his curiosity”, the voice continued.
“And he is but a dragon, driven by the desire to dominate all that intrigue him”“Indeed”, Pyrdacor growled. “Magic is a force as primal as the six elements. In ages past wielding it was a privilege of the immortals, of gods and demons, giants and dragons. Even now, mortal mages are rare, but there is not a single immortal being that doesn’t wield arcane powers beyond compare. If you wish to stand among them, you need to prove that you can master magic as only they can” His voice softened, but only slightly and his gaze remained piercing. “Not all at once, of course”, he spoke. “We have all the time in the world, though I wager we’ll hardly need that long”
Vayadona gasped, as the claws on her back slightly dug into the flesh, not enough to draw blood, but more than enough for her to feel uncomfortable. “Close your eyes, stretch out one arm and open your palm, my daughter”, Pyrdacor hissed and she did as told. “To conjure fire, draw from your emotions. Any emotion works, though personally I found the negative ones to be far more available. Joy is fleeting, passion is fickle and love…” The claws moved down her back and Vayadona winced, though he still did not pierce her flesh, not even cut through the fabric of her clothes. “Well, I don’t know if your relationship with young Ometheon has progressed this far already”, the god-dragon added and Vayadona clenched one fist.
“What is that?”, Pyrdacor whispered, his scalding breath blowing right into her ear. “Did such a comment make you angry, daughter mine?” He did not sound surprised and actually quite pleased. “Good, for anger is the most useful catalyst for fire magic”, he added. “We’ll use it for now, though I wager that it’s not me you’re actually angry at”
“I am not…”, Vayadona confirmed. “Not… angry” It was a clear lie and Pyrdacor chuckled with open amusement. “Of course you are not, my dear”, he spoke, his tone infuriatingly mocking. “No, there’s no need for you to be angry, not after the way your mother treated you. It’s completely normal for a loving mother to just give up on her daughter just because she is not perfectly obedient, wouldn’t you say?”
Vayadona clenched her teeth, but her eyes remained closed and one palm open, no matter how hard it was. He was trying to get a reaction out of her, he was just trying to make her angry. The worst part was that it was working. “Yes, yes, it’s what any good mother would do”, he continued. “And your relationship with Ometheon… the blind queen is supportive, I suppose? Ah, the princess and the firebrand, it’s truly a match made in heaven”
“Shut…”, Vayadona hissed through clenched teeth, but Pyrdacor did not grant her a moment of silence. “What was that?”, he growled and immediately, she bit down onto her tongue. “Nothing?”, he continued. “As expected. You are all talk when things go your way, but the moment that is no longer the case, you act like a petulant child. I understand why the queen is so harsh towards you, for clearly you don’t need any more pampering…”
“Shut up, dragon!”, Vayadona barked. This time, Pyrdacor was indeed silent. When she opened her eyes again, a gasp left her throat and as she staggered back, she stumbled right against the god-dragon, who gently placed both hands on her shoulders. There, in her outstretched hand, was a tiny flame, nothing more than a spark, hovering an inch over her palm. If there was any heat, she felt none of it.
“Excellent”, Pyrdacor whispered, his voice warm once again. “Apologies for my harsh words, but as I said, I needed a reaction. Strong emotions are a catalyst for untrained mages, but as your skills advance, you will see them more and more as a crutch. It won’t be long until you will be able to shape magic to your desire with a calm mind” He walked around her again, gently reaching for her outstretched wrist, while Vayadona was still staring at the tiny flame in her hand. It was a wondrous thing and she was well aware of the sheer excitement she had to show right now. If anything, Pyrdacor was amused by her reaction.
“Conjuring fire is not enough for today”, the god-dragon told her, as he twisted her wrist upwards. She let it happen and as her palm moved, so did the flame, until it faced the newly grown tree. “You will control the fire”, Pyrdacor told her. “In time, it will devour your enemies as it did for me. For now, direct your anger at this tree. Burn it to the ground”
Vayadona hesitated and he took immediate note of it. She had taken lives before, the rats who would come to her chamber night after night, but those had been offerings, lives freely given. This felt different. It felt… wrong. “You don’t want to?”, he asked, his clawed hand still clenched around her wrist. “You hesitate to take a life, even one as lowly as a newborn tree” To her surprise, he smiled as he spoke, calmly, gently, dangerously. Immediately, she shook her head. “I… don’t know how”, she admitted.
“It is simple”, Pyrdacor growled. “You hold the fire in your hand. Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on the tree. Focus on the fire. Don’t keep them apart, my dear” He was about to say something else just as noise reached their ears from the bushes behind them, where Vayadona and Pyrdacor had entered the clearing. The god-dragon narrowed his eyes and glanced towards it and as Vayadona followed her gaze, the flame in her hands flickered and died. “Ah, almost impeccable timing”, Pyrdacor growled. “Yet still too early, dear huntmaster” He placed one hand on Vayadona’s shoulder. “I am afraid this lesson has to wait, for we shall immediately move on to the next”
As Vayadona gazed towards the entrance of the clearing, she spotted several lizardmen approaching. Though all of Zze Tha was their domain, few of them dwelled this close to the border, so their appearance was still novel to the princess. She knew Pyrdacor’s lizardfolk came in various shapes, from the sturdy, crocodile-headed maru, to the four-armed snake-priests, the skrechim, to the mighty leviatanim, the dragon-toads. These, however, were all achaz, the smallest and most common type of lizardfolk. They were shorter than an elf and leaner, with long snouts, nimble tails and scales that ranged from blue to green to red and even black.
In Tie’Shanna, she had often seen them as servants to Pyrdacor’s delegates. These, however were clearly not delegates. They were clad in armour, leather reinforced with bone, each of them carrying several short spears with them, fit for thrusting and throwing. Their leader was tall for an achaz, with crimson scales. He was clad in a cloak of black feathers and he wore the frontal bone of a skull as if it was a mask, his yellow eyes fixed on the god-dragon. From afar, Vayadona could not see what manner of skull it was, perhaps human, dwarven or even elven.
The achaz leader said something in his crude, incomprehensible language, a mixture of growls and hisses, which the god-dragon replied to in kind. Pyrdacor’s seemingly elven jaw widened, unhinged like that of a snake as he spoke the lizardfolk language. As his mouth opened, Vayadona got a good look at his forked tongue, but as he closed his mouth again, he gave her a thin smile. “Pyrdona, meet the huntmaster”, he spoke. “Huntmaster, this is my daughter, Pyrdona”
The achaz huntmaster placed one closed fist on his chest as a sign of respect, but the glare in his yellow eyes held nothing but contempt for her. “Knowing of your mother’s… distrust towards you, I have asked the huntmaster to be on the prowl tonight”, Pyrdacor explained. “And indeed, it seems your escape from the city was not of your own doing, but because the blind queen allowed it, so that she could send one of her spies after you”
The ranks of the achaz parted, revealing a cloaked figure, whom they harshly pushed forward. Even though Vayadona couldn’t see the face beneath the hood, a grim certainty grew within her. The achaz huntmaster yanked his captive by the collar, before slamming the blunt side of his spear against the back of their knees. With a muffled scream, the figure fell to the ground, the hood sinking down, revealing none other than Lysira. Tears were streaming down the girl’s face, mingling with the blood on her cheek, where she now sported a nasty bruise. There was fear in her eyes and clear shame, with her not even able to directly look at Vayadona.
“My dear, wandering these woods can be dangerous at night”, Pyrdacor spoke, his voice deceptively soft. “Didn’t the blind queen tell you of the risks before she sent you here?” Lysira was quiet, her breaths fast and irregular, her eyes wide in pure fear and her gaze fixed on the ground. She flinched as the god-dragon reached down, placing one hand beneath her chin and forcing her to look up. His smile was still there, but his eyes were cold and devoid of even the faintest trace of amusement. “Tell me your name, child”
“Lysira…”, Vayadona mumbled and Pyrdacor briefly glanced at her. “Ah, I remember”, he spoke. “Consider the question void then” He looked over to his achaz and barked something in their cruel tongue. The huntmaster saluted at once, as he and his men hurried back into the bushes. Vayadona couldn’t see them there and perhaps it was just her imagination, but she could still feel their hateful glares.
“Lysira of Liretena”, Pyrdacor spoke. “I have heard of you before” His voice was warm, but there was a piercing growl beneath it and with each word, Lysira’s trembling grew worse. She was terrified of him and for good reason. “Favoured daughter of the petty king of Liretena, the blind queen’s most powerful vassal. Queen Orima’s courtier and hostage, Pyrdona’s closest companion” His smile was thin and this time, Vayadona spotted a cruel streak within. “The unlucky childhood friend”, he spat
Now, Lysira looked up, right at Vayadona, who felt a lump in her throat as she saw her friend like this. “Vayadona, I…”, she began, but the god-dragon cut her off by placing one clawed finger on her lips. “Silence, mylady”, he hissed. “You will speak only when spoken to. You will answer each question to the fullest and then I will decide what to do with you. For now, rise to your feet, looking down on you is tiresome”
Lysira followed his order at once and though it was a warm night, especially in Pyrdacor’s presence, she wrapped herself deeper into her cloak. It failed to fully hide her shivering. “Now, Pyrdona…”, Pyrdacor continued and Lysira flinched as she heard the name. “I take it you must have a lot of questions, so by all means, go ahead”
Vayadona just stared at Lysira, concern mingling with horrible anger. “You have betrayed me before”, she spoke and though she tried to have the same harsh tone as Pyrdacor had, she couldn’t hide the tremble within. All she could do was to keep her voice from breaking. “Why… why then, why now?” She narrowed her eyes and just this once, there was steel in her voice. “Why did you help my mother?”
“I did not…!”, Lysira protested, but she paused. “Not… not then. You haven’t spoken a word to me since, but… I would never betray you!” She shook her head. “I don’t know who told your mother, but I would not… I could not!”, she claimed, but Vayadona was unsure if she could believe her. “And yet, you work for the queen now”, Pyrdacor hissed. “Do you deny it?” Lysira shook her head again, but her answer was not meant for the dragon. “Your mother loves you, Vayadona”, she spoke and the princess grimaced in anger. “She asked me to follow you tonight because she is concerned for you. She… we want you to come home”
“My daughter is right where she belongs”, Pyrdacor interjected. “But you are an intruder in my realm, a spy for the queen. Tell me, little spy, what have you heard tonight?” Before Lysira could answer, Pyrdacor placed a finger on her mouth again. “And don’t you claim that you heard nothing. I have picked up on your scent as I was talking to Pyrdona, long before the huntmaster found you”, the god-dragon spoke, his voice now a low, bestial snarl. “Tell me the truth”, he hissed and Lysira flinched. “And be warned, for I’ll know if you’re lying”
Lysira frowned. “I…”, she began and tears of fear welled up in her eyes. “I know that you teach her higher magic. This violates your agreement with the queen” Pyrdacor didn’t even try to deny it. Instead, his grin grew decidedly more wicked. “Indeed I do”, he confirmed. “Orima has been a formidable adversary so far, so I’m certain she already caught up to it. What else did you hear, young one?”
“You… you are lying to Vayadona. You’re… trying to corrupt her”, Lysira stuttered, before turning to Vayadona herself. “Please… don’t let him…” Pyrdacor cut her off again, this time by violently grabbing her by the collar and lifting her up with one arm, so swift, so effortless that Lysira let out one surprised scream. She struggled there, hanging above the ground, clutching her hands at the god-dragon, her legs kicking the air.
“What did I tell you, Lady Lysira?”, Pyrdacor barked. “You will speak only when spoken to. Consider this your final warning” He let go of her and the elf-maiden fell to the ground, where she remained, her face buried in her arms, sobbing in fear. But the god-dragon had no mercy within him. “Get up”, he barked and when she did not immediately follow his order, he violently yanked her up with both hands.
“What else did you hear?”, he barked, louder now, his voice echoing from the nearby trees. Though he was still speaking their elven language, Vayadona already heard a hint of his booming, draconic voice within her head. “Father…”, she mumbled, her voice shivering with concern. She took one step towards them just as Lysira looked at her. There was something surprising in her gaze. Regret, yes, sorrow, a sorrow that had always been there, something Vayadona had never truly noticed until now. But more than anything, Lysira had a streak of defiance within her. “I heard everything”, she hissed. “I know that you are imperfect. I know that you are not a god!” Her tone was spiteful now, defiance born of mindless fear and as soon as she had said these words, the voice spoke up again.
“That was brave”, it said.
“Foolish, but brave. And it’s truer than she’d think”
“Father, don’t!”, Vayadona yelled, storming towards them in the desperate attempt to stop what Pyrdacor was about to do. But the god-dragon did not strike. Instead, he took one step back, the look on his face utterly baffled. For a second, his smile was gone, but when it returned, it was wide and genuine and accompanied by a booming laugh, a sound like thunder. “You amuse me, Lysira!”, he exclaimed. “You think the gods are perfect? Please, I’ve met them all and let me tell you, they’d just disappoint you”
He raised his hand and Lysira flinched as he placed one claw on her cheek, almost with care. “Now, now… what am I to do with you, Lysira of Liretena?”, he asked, looking from her to Vayadona. The princess shook her head. “Mylord… father…”, she gasped. “Please… please spare her” Her plea took Pyrdacor by surprise, as his baffled expression clearly showed. “She betrayed your trust”, he hissed. “Spied on you on your mother’s behalf. And yet you beg me for her life?” Tears welled up in Vayadona’s eyes as she gave him a nod. “Always”, she sighed.
“How… surprising”, Pyrdacor admitted, but his tone was less surprised and more disappointed, whereas Lysira looked utterly baffled. A small hopeful smile formed on her face and Vayadona reciprocated in kind. This was her friend and she was not too far gone from her old life that she would not realize this, that she would not recognize the genuine concern on Lysira’s face. “We can make this right”, her friend spoke. “There has to be a way” She briefly looked at the god-dragon, but her gaze would always return to Vayadona. “The queen… she is furious. I’ve never seen her like this before, she… she’s going to lock you up… I think”, she continued. “She told me your soul has been touched by darkness, that she isn’t even sure if she can save you”
“How arrogant of her”, the voice hissed.
“Do you feel like you need saving, princess?” Vayadona crossed her arms. “That’s not what you want?”, she asked. Lysira was quiet for a moment. Then, in defeat, she shook her head. “I don’t care for any of that. I would never betray you!”, she sighed. “I just… I want back what we had. And I… I don’t care if your mother is right or not or if the god-dragon is dangerous for you, I… I just want you to be well. I want my friend back”
A hesitant, but genuine smile formed on Vayadona’s face. “Let her go, father”, she spoke again. “I have nothing to fear from her” Pyrdacor glanced at her from the side, still close to Lysira. He raised his hand and this time, the girl did not flinch as he placed one finger on her cheek. The claw briefly rested on her flesh, before it reached for her hair. Playing with one dark strand, the god-dragon looked down at her.
“I… will not talk, Lord Pyrdacor”, Lysira claimed. “I want what is best for Vayadona” The god-dragon gave her a nod and his claw wandered down, from her cheek to her neck, never digging too deep into her flesh, never drawing blood. “So do I, Lysira”, he spoke and his tone was soft and genuine. “My daughter is merciful tonight” The claw on his index finger rested on her neck now, while the one on his thumb gently moved across her cheek, wiping away the tears. “How unexpected of her”
The smile was still on his face as he looked away from her and towards Vayadona, but the princess gasped in stifled horror as she saw the look in his eyes. “Father!”, she yelled. “Father, don’t!” But it was too late. “Unfortunately, I am not a merciful god”, he whispered and with one swift move of his hand he opened Lysira’s throat from ear to ear.
Pyrdacor let her go and Lysira stumbled forwards as Vayadona rushed towards her. The god-dragon turned away as if this no longer concerned him, curiously inspecting the few drops of blood that were now staining his otherwise pristine claw. More blood was rushing from Lysira’s open throat and the elf-maiden fell to her knees, eyes wide in horror and pain, her grey dress quickly stained crimson.
Vayadona sunk down next to her, catching her before she could fall onto the ground. “Now that this has been dealt with, shall we continue the lesson?”, Pyrdacor growled, but the princess barely heard him. Tears poured down her cheeks, mingling with the blood from Lysira’s wound. Her friend was clutching at her, gasping, struggling, dying.
“I know what you’re thinking of, princess”, the voice warned her.
“Never forget his cruelty, but don’t intervene. He must not know…”“NO!”, Vayadona barked at the top of her lungs. In this moment, nothing else mattered. Not the voice’s warning, not her mother, not the god-dragon, not even the actual gods. She had seen a wound like this countless times, night for night. She had inflicted it, had seen how swiftly it would be lethal, how much it could bleed. Already, Lysira was pallid, her grasp around Vayadona’s upper arm weaker, the look in her eyes clouded, but desperate. Most importantly, the princess knew how to heal it. She had done it countless times.
This was different from conjuring fire. Instead of focussing on her emotions, on the rage she felt in this moment and on the grief, she focussed on that tiny corner of her mind that remained calm. A spark grew within, she felt it darting through her body, to her fingertips, as she pressed them onto Lysira’s wound. Where they touched her skin, they began to glow. Flesh grew beneath her grip, that which had been severed pieced itself back together. And out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the god-dragon’s terrible gaze had fallen upon her. “How… curious”, Pyrdacor whispered as the light in her fingertips had subsided. “Who taught you how to heal?”
And Lysira… the girl’s strength returned, her grip around Vayadona’s shoulders firmer again, the look in her eyes clearer, though pain and fear would remain on them. Beneath Vayadona’s hands, nothing remained of the terrible injury the god-dragon had inflicted upon her aside from a thin scar. “Vayadona…”, she gasped, her voice hoarsy, her breath irregular, but present. She was breathing. She would live. Quietly, Vayadona pulled her friend into a hug.
“Oh, princess”, the voice whispered within her head.
“I have tried to stir you away from this path, but now… should Pyrdacor investigate, I will not be able to protect you” But it did not matter to her, not know. Not in this moment. “Forgive me…”, Lysira mumbled, but Vayadona shook her head. “There is nothing to forgive”, she replied. “Look at me. All will be well, just look at me”
Before Lysira could reply, Vayadona felt a harsh grip on her shoulders, as the god-dragon yanked her back. Pyrdacor lifted her up until she could stand on her feet, but he kept holding onto her. “How did you do this?”, he barked and his voice was no longer calm, no longer affable. This was the voice of a furious beast, the draconic howl within it barely hidden.
“I used to be a healer, did I not?”, she replied with a weak smile. “Now let her go, father” Though her tone was soft, the look on her face was stern and what she could see of herself reflecting in Pyrdacor’s eyes was chilling. “You will never again harm my friends, you won’t even threaten them” The god-dragon narrowed his eyes, but forced a smile. “Or what, my dear?”, he asked. “I have accepted you as my daughter, but that does not mean you can give me orders. I do not appreciate your tone” He glanced to the side at Lysira, who had just staggered back to her feet. “Vayadona…”, she mumbled.
“Don’t!”, she yelled and she tried to break free, but Pyrdacor held her back. “And I do not appreciate you undoing my work”, he added. He raised his free hand into Lysira’s direction and a second later, flames broke forth from his palm, engulfing the elf in an instant. They were searing hot, an inferno that consumed Lysira immediately. One brief scream, more surprise than actual pain, as the fire devoured her before she even realized what was happening.
“Look at me”, Pyrdacor growled, but Vayadona stared at the pillar of flame that had engulfed her friend, her best and only friend in this world. Only blackened bones remained and even they were slowly consumed by a heat so terrifying that even the princess was filled with primal dread. Lysira was gone at once and in her stead, the princess felt a hollow grief, a hole that was slowly filled with a terrible, ungodly rage.
LOOK AT ME!
The god-dragon’s voice cut through her thoughts, forcing her to look away from the flames, from the blackened bones within this inferno and towards the beast that had murdered Lysira. “This one was holding you back, Pyrdona. She always would have and in… healing her, you have proven”, he hissed. “She was a remnant of the old you. You want to become a goddess, so know this… mortals can be your servants, they can be your worshippers, they can be your companions even… but not your friends. I did you a favour by cutting out that which held you back”
He let go of her and she staggered back, away from him, as he turned around. “Now, daughter mine, do not grief for those who stand beneath you”, he added, his voice calm and affable, but devoid of any sympathy. She knew, he genuinely didn’t understand her grief.
“Of course he doesn’t”, the voice interjected.
“He has never loved anyone but himself. Even his children are just pawns for him. Beware, princess, always beware of him”
“Shall we get back to the lesson?”, Pyrdacor asked. “I want to see if you can control your fire” Without even looking at her, he pointed at the tree. “Burn it on the first try and you may impress me”, he added. “So far, I am not sure what to think of you. You have will and potential to surpass all of my children, but your attachment to the mortals is beyond disappointing”
He said something else, but Vayadona did not hear him. Her heartbeast quickened as she stared at the charred bones that remained of Lysira, then back to the god-dragon. Rage drowned out his words and all independent thought, even the calming presence of the voice. She opened her palm and barely noticed the spark within, larger and brighter than before.
Pyrdacor did not look at her, he had no time to react, no chance to evade her fury, as she pointed her palm right at him. Instinctively, she knew what to do. The fire erupted from her palm, the tiny orb growing into a massive ray of flames that darted across the clearing, not towards the tree, but towards the dragon himself. A moment before it reached him, he spread his arms and looked up at the sky, just as the flames engulfed him.
From a distance, desperate screams reached Vayadona’s ears. Rage consumed her just as fire consumed the god-dragon. Rage against him, who had taken Lysira from her, rage against her mother, whose lack of trust had left her with no choice but to turn towards Pyrdacor, rage against the heavens themselves for bringing her back, for putting her into this position, where one of the few lives she had truly cared for had been destroyed thanks to her own actions. Rage, nothing but pure, mindless rage. Slowly, she realized that the screams were her own and that the fire, though hot enough to burn the grass beneath her, did nothing to Pyrdacor himself.
Immediate fatigue hit her with force as she lowered her arm. The ray of fire waned, the spark within her palm flickering and fading, as she sunk onto all fours. With heavy breaths she looked up at the dragon, who had turned towards her now, his arms still spread, a pleased smile on his face. Not even his clothes were singed, even as the ground beneath his feet was scorched and ruined. “Ah, so you can control the fire after all”, he spoke. “Very good, Pyrdona”
Instead of replying, she rose her other arm and another ray of fire burst from it. A flaming lance sprung forth, impaling the god-dragon, spreading across his body, gnawing at him. His smile faded now and he began to walk towards her. “Cease it, daughter mine”, he growled, his voice colder again. “Or do you honestly think you can burn a dragon?”
Vayadona howled in fury as she pointed her fingertips at him. Fire shot at him from each finger and with each blast of energy, she felt her own strength fading. It did not matter. She was strong. If she was unable to kill him, she could at least hurt him. Nothing else mattered, not the increasing weakness in her arms, not her blurred sight and muffled hearing.
“Enough!”, Pyrdacor roared and though his voice sounded distant, it was loud enough for her to understand him clearly. Her pillar of fire was howling around him and the intense heat seemed to affect him too at last, for the expression on his face was genuine anger born of pain. A grim smile formed on Vayadona’s face as she realized that she was making him feel something after all. “You dare to use fire against me?”, Pyrdacor continued, shouting at the top of his lungs now. “You think you can fight a god?”
BEHOLDtremble THEN, FOR Isovereign...invincible SHALL GIVE YOUchild...insolent FIREdevour... inferno!
He snapped his fingers, just once, and the world around her exploded. The sheer force behind his attack was enough to knock Vayadona onto the ground, a burst of energy so severe that it snapped her out of her mindless rage. Around the entire clearing, the trees began to burn, dozens of titanic torches, all ignited at once. The lone tree the god-dragon had forced to grow before was burning too, pillars of smoke rising into the nightly sky.
“What are you doing?”, the voice screamed and she realized that it had been screaming at her all along, screaming, raging, begging her to stop.
“Do you want to die at his hands, princess? He can kill you with a passing thought and you wish to attack him?” There was genuine distress in the usually calm and detached voice and it was just as terrifying as Pyrdacor the god-dragon as he marched towards her.
Behind him in the smoke… his shadow was no longer that of an elf, the magic he used to change his shape wavering. In one moment, he was the elf-lord she knew him as, horned and golden-skinned, though the expression on his face was one of murderous rage. In the next moment, a winged titan stood in his face, claws as long and thick as trees, a maw that could swallow a house in its entirety, rows upon rows of teeth, each longer than the princess herself. There was a fire in his eyes, in either form, raw anger as he marched towards her.
He reached her still in his elven form, lifting her up without effort, pillars of smoke rising from his nose as he bared his sharp teeth. His facial features blurred between elven beauty and draconic horror, with scales now covering his entire head. “Is this what you were trying to do?”, he roared, his voice a deafening storm, his breath carrying with it the scent of blood and lava. “Stirring the dragon’s wrath? I had high hopes for you, but it seems you are yet another failure!” His claws dug into her shoulders now, piercing through skin and flesh. “And I have no use for
failures!”
Agony overcame the princess, paired by a numb fear as she realized how strong the god-dragon truly was. He was toying with them, all of them, she realized. Herself, her mother, the entirety of Tie’Shanna… they did not exist because of their own strength, not because they were equals, but because he allowed it. Because he found them amusing, or because he had deeper plans, more sinister ones. But this monster, this god, he could snuff them out with ease if he ever felt like it.
“No…”, she gasped weakly and a cruel smile formed on Pyrdacor’s face. “
No?”, he asked, his voice carrying with it a metallic tone. “
I’m afraid you have to do better” A searing pain flared up in Vayadona’s shoulders as the god-dragon’s claws dug deeper. “No, please!”, she yelled again and hot tears streamed down her face. “Leave…
leave me…” And then, she took one desperate swing at his face, her nails clawing at his cheek as she screamed at the top of her lungs.
LEAVE ME ALONE!
Where Pyrdacor’s voice was thunder and lightning, this one was a snowstorm. A blinding light, flared up between them, knocking Vayadona and her father apart. The god-dragon screamed and howled, whereas the pain in Vayadona’s shoulders faded. Where there had been an inferno just moments ago, there now was a biting cold, no less severe than Pyrdacor’s flames. Where there had been fire, there was now only darkness and when the princess opened her eyes, she saw rime covering the ground around her. The grass was grey and frozen solid, the burned remains of the trees were now pillars of ice. And Pyrdacor…
The god-dragon was twisting and twitching, one hand pressed against his cheek, where Vayadona had taken a swing at him. Golden blood was seeping between his fingers and where it touched the frozen ground, it began to sizzle. Pyrdacor threw his head back and let out a deafening howl, but within moments it turned into booming, genuine laughter. “Yes!”, he yelled at the top of his lungs. “
YES!”
He turned towards her and as he lowered his hand, she could see that there were four deep claw marks on his cheek, where she had hit him. “Perfection!”, he exclaimed. “Exceptional! This is what I wanted to see, my daughter, this is what you need to become!” He took a step closer and though he seemed elven again, as the light of the stars fell upon his face, as Vayadona’s sight cleared at last, she could only tense up in horror. Beneath the torn skin of his cheek, there was no flesh, there were no muscles nor bone, just teeth. Four lipless, bottomless maws, filled with teeth, slowly forming four horrifying smiles meant just for her.
She gasped and tried to back off, but the god-dragon reached her swiftly. Before her eyes, the maws closed, leaving behind four thin, pale scars on his otherwise perfect face. “Don’t be afraid, Pyrdona”, the dragon spoke, his expression gentle again, his tone soft, his voice low. “I told you I would provoke a reaction from you. Did you think I wanted you to conjure fire today? No, no I needed to go deeper than that, I needed to fill you with fear and rage and hatred to lure out the potential I’ve seen in you”
Vayadona’s eyes widened as she saw the unnerving calmness on his face. Now, with the immediate shock, the fear and pain slowly fading, she realized what had just happened. “Lysira…”, she gasped. “You… killed her” Pyrdacor gave her a nod, entirely without shame. “And I meant what I said, do not mourn those who stand beneath you”, he confirmed. “If anything, what happened here today has proven me right. You are nothing like her or any of those dull courtiers who surround you in the palace. No, my daughter, you are so much more than they could ever be”
He placed one hand on her cheek and out of a panicked reflex, Vayadona grabbed him by the wrist. Only then did she get a good look at her forearm. Her eyes widened and her breath became panicked, to Pyrdacor’s visible amusement. “Don’t be afraid, my dear”, he spoke, but she was afraid, oh so very much. It was a different fear from what she felt before, when he had threatened Lysira. This was a cold dread, but no less potent.
Half of her forearm was covered in fine, silvery-white scales, overlapping with each other to protect the ghastly pallid skin beneath. Her fingers ended in pristine claws, sparkling like clear diamonds. “What… oh gods!”, she gasped. “What is happening to me?” Pyrdacor remained calm as she was staring at the scales. This time, she did not flinch as he placed a hand on her cheek. Instead, she looked at him for guidance. He had to help her. He would know what was happening.
“Breathe easy, Pyrdona”, he spoke. “Don’t be afraid. This will not hurt. I will never bring you harm” He gently stroke her cheek while her gaze remained fixed on the scales and as he did so, Vayadona saw colour returning to her skin. The claws retracted back until her fingernails remained, the scales flickered and faded as if they never truly existed at all. “Silver scales…”, Pyrdacor mumbled. “A rare colour, a beautiful colour. Fitting, considering my own coat, wouldn’t you agree?”
She looked at him, mouth wide open, too stunned to even speak. “Why are you surprised?”, Pyrdacor asked. “My blood courses through your veins. You are Pyrdacor’s daughter, so what else could you be but a dragon?” His expression softened considerably as he noticed just how distraught she had to be right now. “Of course, you are an elf as well, from your mother’s side. Nothing can take that from you”, he clarified. “But the blood of dragons is coursing through your veins” He spread his arms. “Look around you, daughter of the dragon!”, he exclaimed. “Behold your doing! See what it means to be my daughter”
Once again Vayadona looked around and this time, she realized what had happened, the ice, the frozen ground, the biting cold that filled the air, Pyrdacor’s facial injury, even if it was already healing. “My… doing?”, she mumbled and the god-dragon gave her an enthusiastic nod. “Your doing, daughter, yours alone!”, he confirmed. “This is what I have seen in you from the moment I first looked upon you. This is what I have hoped for when I made my pact with your mother. I had no need for another child, not like the ones I already have. My brood is legion and if I so desire, they will darken the skies” He shook his head. “No, what I need was a daughter who could grow beyond all of them, a goddess in her own right”, he continued. “Someone who could return that which has been lost”
“Ice…”, Vayadona realized. This time, Pyrdacor’s smile widened. “Ice”, he confirmed. “The key which I have sacrificed to save my chosen race. The imperfection that has marred me ever since. But you, you are like me and not quite. You hold within you the same potential to control ice, without the crippling injury I inflicted upon myself” For a second, his expression was almost apologetic, but she knew better than to believe in his genuine regret. “This is why I had to provoke you. You needed to fear for your live, you needed to hate me. An emotional reaction stronger than anything you ever experienced. I’m sure you understand and even if you don’t… we are immortals, dear daughter. You will forgive me in time”
“I…”, Vayadona mumbled, thoroughly avoiding his gaze. The fatigue of this night finally caught up to her and if not for her father holding her, she would have collapsed. Exhausted, trembling, overwhelmed, she fell into the god-dragon’s arms. Pyrdacor gently placed a hand on the back of her head and she was too tired to shake him off. “You will forgive me in time”, he repeated.
“What do you want from me… father?”, she asked and the look on his face was chilling, an imitation of fatherly affection, nearly perfect, but not quite right. “Follow me and you will fly, my child, a goddess in your own right”, he promised. “All you have to do is to find what I have lost and to bring it to me” Though it seemed like he was genuinely trying to be affectionate, his claws on the back of her head kept her on her guard. “You shall give me what I desire”, he whispered into her ear.
“You shall give me what I deserve”
Luna, again
Luna’s awakening was not gentle. Startled by what she had just seen, she nearly jumped up from her bed, opening her eyes to complete darkness. For a moment, she was disoriented, flailing her arms around, staring into the darkness, almost expecting the god-dragon to step forth from it. A cold wind was howling through her small chamber, but as she sat up, she realized that someone had placed a warm blanket over her.
“No screaming this time?”, a familiar voice asked from the darkness, the icy tone unmistakable. A second later, a tiny spark of fire appeared in the hand of Asch, who was sitting in the corner. Unusually, he was not clad in his heavy armour, but in an elegant tunic made of a silk so dark that it was hard to make out where the shadows ended and where the fabric began. “Good”, he added. “It seems we’re making progress”
Just a few weeks ago, Luna would have been scared of him. She had been scared of him. But she had seen true monsters, in this tower and in her dreams. Asch was certainly dangerous, but with him she at least didn’t have to fear for her live at any given moment, a far cry from Walmir of Reeveshoff or Pyrdacor.
“Have you been sitting here in the dark?”, she hissed, surprised by the sharpness in her voice. Luna had always considered herself a mild-tempered person. She wasn’t quick to anger, had no enemies to speak of and she had been taught to make an honest effort to get along with anyone. Right now, however, she felt a cold annoyance at Asch’s presence and while he certainly wasn’t pleasant to have around, this feeling was… new for her.
“Not for long”, Asch clarified, as he rose from his chair. He moved towards her nightstand, the spark still in one hand, where he made it move towards a candlestick. “My kind is sensitive to sunlight, so we live beneath the frozen sea, in cities shrouded in eternal night”, he explained. “Down in Ryl’Arc, where most of my people live, the only light we have is the fire we can summon by our own will. I have gotten used to the darkness long ago”
“It doesn’t sound like a place I ever want to visit”, Luna replied and Asch gave her something resembling a smile. It was not like Pyrdacor’s, bright and fake, but more like a genuine, but futile attempt. “I don’t think this is up to you, girl”, the night elf spoke. “The queen will soon see your worth. After that, you will accompany us when we return north. It is not negotiable”
Luna had expected this much, but it felt easy to remain calm as she heard this, compared to what the god-dragon had just told her… no, not her. This was not her memory, but… it nonetheless felt real. It was as real as the memory of her home, of her friends, of her parents, if not more so. She still remembered how afraid she had been of Pyrdacor, but also how strong she had felt. Magic… all elves were capable of using it with some training, but Luna, having grown up in rural Tobria, far away from other elves, had never been taught how to make use of it. But this… the god-dragon’s lesson still rung within her head. She could only wonder…
“My parents…”, she realized. “You gave me a promise, Asch. Are you here to follow up on it?” The night elf gave her a nod. “I also have little to do while the mother queen is absent. She won’t return for another week, so meanwhile I can put my full attention on you” She grimaced, but he did not seem to notice it, or he did not care. “Wonderful”, she mumbled. “The memory… I…”
Asch shot her a cold smirk. “Not a pleasant one, wasn’t it?”, he asked. “Our queen has many of those. Disappointment and betrayal, death and mourning. There are few happy memories in her life, but such is the burden of a living goddess” He shrugged. “I always found this one… educational”, he admitted. “How fragile a treasured life could be, how quick even a favoured mortal could be taken away by forces above us”
“Let me guess, the lesson is not to get attached to anyone?”, Luna asked. Again the sharpness in her voice was unusual and a part of her, deep down, was unnerved by it. Asch even took note of it, judging by his surprised expression. “By no means, no”, he clarified. “The lesson is not to get attached to those who cannot protect themselves. Lysira was weak and in her weakness, she abandoned our queen when she needed her the most”
“She did not abandon her, she was murdered!”, Luna exclaimed, though Asch showed not even a hint of sympathy. “She shouldn’t have put herself in harm’s way”, the night elf replied. “Following the god-dragon on that night was an act of foolishness. In the end, she did not care enough for our queen to even think how her death would affect her. The mother-queen mourned for her, but over the centuries she realized that Lysira had been responsible for her own death. She knew what would await her should the god-dragon catch her and she willingly put herself into this danger, she willingly put our queen through such pain”
Not without pride, he placed one hand on his chest. “The queen made certain that each of her shakagra would always be capable of defending themselves”, he stated. “Generation upon generation, my people come ever closer to mortal perfection” For a second, there was something genuine on his face, pride and purpose. However, he quickly composed himself again, giving her a cool look out of his pitch black eyes. “But this is not what you wish to know, don’t you?”, he added. “One day I shall tell you more of my people, but right now, our time is too valuable to waste it on something you’re going to learn regardless sooner or later”
“You promised to speak of my parents”, Luna confirmed. “You… implied you knew them. I mean, my real parents” A hollow chuckle left Asch’s throat. “Of course I mean your real parents, child”, he hissed. “I have no desire to know those sheep-herders who took you in. Were they here, I’d…” He noticed the expression on Luna’s face and cut himself off. “We can both be grateful that they are not here”, he added. “But yes, I know your parents”
“Who are they?”, Luna asked and her eyes widened in fear. “Who… were they?” Asch shook his head. “They are both dead, I’m afraid”, he told her, his voice briefly lacking its characteristic chill. “But they are hardly worth crying over. Your mother has a lea elf, common as they get, living in a small hamlet in Garetia, to the south. The only memorable thing she ever did was giving birth to you and even then, the ordeal weakened her so much that she perished not long after”
Luna expected that much. She knew her mother had dropped her off at her adopted parents’ farm and she did not even stay to explain herself. Her parents had spoken of her a lot in the past, telling her that she had looked sickly and haunted and that she had been afraid of something, of someone, so much that she did not linger for long. But still, hearing it with such clarity, from this man nonetheless, it still hurt. “And… my father?”, she asked. “Was he a lea elf too?”
“By no means, no”, Asch spoke. “If you’d be a pure-blooded lea elf, I would hardly be so interested in you” He leant closer and Luna could see her reflection within his eyes, so different, yet in this light, from this angle, she spotted similarities as well. Could it be…? “Your father has been a shakagra”, Asch confirmed just moments after the thought crossed Luna’s mind. Her expression must have dropped, for Asch actually chuckled as he looked at her face. “Don’t give me that look, girl”, he snarled. “Lying is beneath me. What I’m telling you here is nothing but the truth”
“You mean, I am…”, Luna mumbled. “I am like you?” Asch bared his teeth and she was not sure if it was an expression of amusement or anger. “You are half-shakagra”, he clarified. “The difference is fundamental. I already told you my people are not elves, even if we look like them to an untrained eye. In a way, this makes you half-elven, but to my knowledge you are the only cross-breed of your kind in existence, unlike those half-human elves” Now, his expression softened. “I don’t think the queen has taken this into account”, he mumbled, more to himself than to her. “She is the only one of her kind as well, so perhaps she’ll appreciate your company”
Shakagra… just a few weeks ago, Luna had known nothing of them and in the time since, she had learned to hate them like she had learned to hate Asch for what he had done to her friends. To think that she was one of them was… not as horrifying as she would have expected. She felt no different from before, from how she had felt her entire life and it did not change a thing about her current situation. At the same time, it explained a lot. Why she preferred to stay indoors during the brightest days, why even the coldest winter barely affected her… and it certainly explained Asch’s fascination for her.
“What happened to my father?”, she asked. Asch’s smile faded once again. “He was a shakagra of the first generation”, he revealed. “One of the mother-queen’s favoured knights, second only to me in prowess and devotion. Nearly perfect, but not quite” He shook his head. “I killed him to prove my strength”, he revealed. “That was ten years ago and not a day goes by that I don’t think of him… yet before you ask, I do not regret it. He had to die so that I could grow stronger, something he himself most certainly knew of”
Briefly, Luna avoided his inscrutable gaze. Her father… like her mother, she had never known him, but where hearing of her mother’s death still pained her, knowing that her father had been like Asch… she was not sure if it was right to feel saddened by his death, but the way she looked at Asch had changed as she rose her head again. There sat not just the man who had slewn her friends and taken her to this tower by force, but also the man who had murdered her father. He wanted her to learn from Vayadona and she would do exactly that. The hatred the princess had for the god-dragon, it was something she could emphasize with. “There’s one more thing…”, she mumbled, her voice shivering with grief. “My mother… did she give herself… willingly?”
Asch gave her a nod and she could not hide a sigh of relief. When she looked up again, she saw how stern his expression had gotten. “Of course she did”, he clarified. “My people are soldiers, not common thugs and rapists. Your father approached her in disguise, yes, but he charmed her with honeyed words and kind deeds and they stayed together for months even after you were conceived” Now, she saw a different look in his eyes, something she could not quite place and it was gone as quick as she had spotted it. “Had she not tried to run after her father told her the truth about him, perhaps things could have been different, perhaps…”, he added, before he shook his head. “But no, there is no point dwelling on past regrets”
“But… why?”, Luna asked. “Why my mother, why me? There has to be a reason for all of this, something you’re not telling me!” Asch gave her a nod, straightforward as always. “Of course there is”, he confirmed. “But this question goes way beyond your mere parentage. I can tell you, of course, but only in exchange for another memory” His smile returned, wicked and cold. “I can see it in your eyes, Luna”, he told her and his words terrified her more than what she had seen in the last memory. “You are not the weak little girl I picked up on the road those few weeks ago. The mother-queen’s memories are having the intended effect on you”
Luna could not deny that she felt different today. Stronger, somehow more focussed, but quicker to anger. She had to be careful, she had to be truly careful to get out of this not just alive, but as herself. Already she found herself dwelling on Vayadona’s memories, mingling them with her own. When thinking of her father, not the kind, warm-hearted shepherd who had adopted her, but the shakagra father she had never known, she could already only picture him with golden skin and horns.
“Another memory then?”, she asked and Asch gave her a nod. “Yes, but only after a few days of rest for you. It’ll be the penultimate of the first batch I have prepared”, he revealed. “But more will wait for you in Ryl’Arc, where I can intensify your training” He noticed the curious expression on her face and let out a hoarsy chuckle. “But I sense another question, child”, he hissed. “My plans for you have been long in the making and your destiny shall surpass even them, Marked Second. Of course, our queen has plans of her own and if you are curious I can tell you of them as well, to a certain degree”
“You would tell me of Pardona’s plans?”, Luna asked, unable to fully hide her disbelief. Asch gave her another nod. “Why wouldn’t I?”, he asked in return. “You are my prisoner and I hope that in time you and I can become genuine allies. I don’t fully trust you just like how you most definitely don’t trust me, but I will be honest with you, to a degree” He knelt down next to her, now at eye level with her for once. “The next memory will be… enlightening”, he promised. “But before that, why don’t you ask me another question. Choose well and perhaps I will even answer them”
[Ask him about Pardona's plans] [Ask him about your destiny] [Ask him about his plans for you]
