PROLOGUE
Cursed Kingdom – The village of misfortune
The white should have given it away. The white was the harbinger of all things wrong and the people knew it. That's why they all despise the white. And the black came soon after although in a very different form. The skies went black and the soot floated down unpleasantly from above. The mountain in the distance bled with an orange liquid that flowed down lazily like a river burning everything in its path.
Most of the villagers had already fled but his family was stubborn to a fault. This was the unluckiest village in the entire south. Only weeks before the white had come the green. It was hidden in the men's faces at first and made them dizzy and hot but when the ugly splotches covered their faces they began to do more. The shrieks, screams and coughs broke the silence and it was only when the red came from their mouths that they would stop. Then they would never speak again.
He heard a voice from miles away but nothing could break through his barrier. In here he was safe from it all. He hated the white and the black and the green and the red. His father had tried to help the green people by making them queer potions and remedies. He was the professor of the south and his goal was to learn all there was to know about the dangers of the land. His goal was to learn about the shaking of the earth and the raging of the winds. And to learn of the strange creatures that seemed to be at the centre of every difficulty our planet faced. He was a professor researching the strange Pokémon.
The voice from miles away came again. He could vaguely make out the words and knew they related to him but in his barrier the world didn't matter. It could be carefully observed without panic and consequence. Here the orange wouldn't reach him and the green wouldn't scare him.
The pain felt like it belonged somewhere else. It was on his cheek where the distant owner of the voice had slapped him. And then it came again and again. The world slowly began to take shape around him. The brightness of his friend's blonde hair was what hit him first. Although his hand quickly followed with more slaps. "Come on! Why do you always do this at the worst possible times? Come back to reality!" was what he was saying. At first he only saw the lips moving but the words began to make sense to him now where they seemed foreign before.
"This whole place is going to go down in flames! Your father's already got all the sick villagers together and we're ready to leave." His friend was screaming in his face. "If you don't come then you better not think I'll stay with you!"
It took a minute to remember who he was and what he was doing. He seemed to go through most of his life as a mute locked in his own little world but the words ran off his lips when they needed to. "Alright. I'm coming already but stop hitting me!"
And then they were running through the village. The houses were wooden with straw roofing clumsily made. The village had gone through enough rough times that making any better housing proved too expensive and the village scarcely dealt in craftsmanship. It was a lonely little farming village that struggled to get through life. The land seemed infertile most of the time and whenever a good run of crops did some there was always something else that meant they couldn't make the best of it.
It was like that now too. The crops had grown better than they had in years he'd been told but now the lava would flood down and burn the village's labours to an unrecognizable heap of ash. The wooden housing would set ablaze too and the village would be abandoned or the people would have to start from scratch. The people were strong and sturdy however and not easily crushed. Even if all the housing in the village burned down there'd be a few men who slept out in the night sky refusing to move on.
Further along the village his father could be seen with a large wooden carriage to contain the green people and move them from the village. His fathers voice was loud and commanding toughened from carrying many burdens. It was the voice of a leader and one thing he had not inherited from his father. His voice was weak and rarely heard.
When his father saw him there were no smiles but the panic in his eyes was obvious. It was out of place even with the lava on the way. They would escape the danger with all the green people was what he'd been told. The lava was nothing to fear. But there was obviously something else to fear and it had his father and the green people scared. He listened carefully wondering if he would hear some new disaster.
The blackness fell from the sky and the flames came with it. Flames blew over the houses and the orange was close now. The green people had seen it too and were hobbling away from the carriage and father was silent for the first time disbelief obvious in his eyes. Those eyes that said 'this is the unluckiest village in all the region.'
The fire reflected in his red eyes that were as beautiful as glass stained with a hundred different shades of red. The trail of orange followed his tail as he flicked it through the air. The crimson wings beat the wind keeping him afloat and sending gusts that angered the flames and made them dance wildly. He seemed to glow with the colour of blood.
But what will remain scarred in every memory was the colour. The skin was black. Blacker than the smoke that consumed them. He decided at that point he really did hate the white but the black was worse. The black was worse than the green or red. It had taken on form and now it would kill him.
His friend was shouting again asking him to snap out of it. He was obviously shaken by the appearance. It was not normal. The next sound cut through the barrier. It would signal the fire and then the fire would come from its mouth. It would burn him unless he ran. His friend was still pulling at him and he knew he had to run. That moment seemed to break time itself.
His friend was crying when he dropped his hand. Then the footsteps could be heard leaving the proximity of the barrier. There was only him and the dragon. And then there was the fire.