AN: There will be mentions and descriptions of violence and blood, and I'm not entirely sure if my writing falls into the T category. Just a fair warning. Please correct me if it gets too mature.
One of the first unwritten rules in nature was to only kill in defense or for food. One would never see a fed wolf chasing a sheep or an unprovoked horse trying to stomp a wolf's spine. When an ocelot was hungry it only hunted down enough chickens to fill its belly, never more. The only exception to this rule were humans. Even the creatures that stalked through the night only attacked those that used to cage them and harvest their bodies after death. Most humans pointed at the monsters when asked for the reason of constant fear and fighting, never putting thought to the similar actions they did the to any creature weaker than themselves.
They would claim that any creature not human, even humans with different views, beliefs and knowledge, was either inferior to them or was a threat to their existence. Naturally, when the dangerous ones were hunted down and killed in dozens and the ones with bloodied swords were hailed like heroes, the remaining survivors developed ways to protect themselves and were agitated at the mere sight of a human. Only more bloodshed followed in the years, centuries and millennia that came and went as war and hatred ruled the world and corrupted innocent hearts.
As was the case of a man and two women, covered from head to toe in gleaming cyan armor, that led their horse-drawn carriage into a small village. Curious heads popped out from behind doors, ogling the strangers that were foolish enough to be outside in the darkness before dawn, the sun only just rising above the horizon. Wary eyes trailed from their sturdy yet bent shining armor to the wooden wagon and tired snow white horse. A cloth covered the inside of the cart, though it was torn and ripped, stripes of fabric flapping in the breeze, and the wood creaked as it stopped moving, hinting at its true age.
One of the women, the one holding the horse's reins, stood up and removed her diamond helmet, exposing short dirty blond hair and a lightly scarred face with piercing gray eyes. Resting the headgear under her arm, she raised the other above her head, along with a beaten and bent gleaming blue sword. Eyes were involuntarily drawn to the weapon and she smiled widely upon seeing she had everyone's attention.
"Villagers!" She shouted, using the voice of a grand storyteller. "We bring news of a new era taking place. The monstrosities that take our freedom and lives at night will soon be a thing of the past!" She paused for a second, allowing the intrigued farmers and fishers of the village to crowd around them and begin murmuring to each other.
"We return from a mighty quest, from the depths of the forsaken place known as the End. Many knights and righteous warriors have tried and failed to explore and map its dark dreary terrain. It is the source of all evil in this world, the monster that resided there was worse than anything this world or the Nether have to offer. But we prevailed and finished the work our ancestors have started. We have vanquished the unholy beast that hid there, the Ender Dragon has finally been slain!" She nearly roared to the sky, thrusting her weapon higher at certain points for emphasis. Her smile had widened to include less sympathy and more teeth as she recalled plunging her sword through the dark scales that decorated the downed dragon's neck.
A wave of confused and disbelieving murmurs washed over the crowd, before being drowned out by loud cheering and whistling coming from the younger population. The elders and hard-working adults scowled and whispered harshly to each other, not believing the traveler's words for a second. 'The end of the constant torment from what lurked in the night', not possible, they claimed. But once the initial reaction creased, the questions, the requests and the accusations began.
"How did you survive?"
"How did you get to that wretched place?"
"What makes you so sure anything's gonna change?"
"Nothin' will. I tell ya, they offer jus' blasphemy."
"Do you have its head?"
"Forget the head! They should make armor out of its hide!"
"And amulets out of its teeth!"
"What is the End?"
All conversation silenced at the seemingly innocent question asked by a kid no more than six years old. She had shoulder-length black hair that barely reached her ears, with unusually long legs and arms and baby fat still rounding her cheeks. Her hands were clasped at her chest as every gaze turned to look at her, but her deep green eyes were filled with curiosity and determination not to be frightened off.
A pair of teenagers snickered in the background and almost every person opened their mouth to reply, but seemed unable to form the words to explain. Brows furrowed and people turned to whisper to their friends and family as everyone in the vicinity realized that they didn't actually know themselves. They had heard about a place of no return in many legends, but it was never explained beyond a sentence of how dark it was and that no one would ever return from there. All that they had needed to understand from the woman's speech was that she claimed to have a solution to an ancient problem. They had never even heard of an 'Ender Dragon' before.
Eyes turned back to the adventurers as the smile on the woman's face fell just a little bit, seemingly annoyed that she would need to explain something so basic. The hand with the sword descended to hang at her side and a dramatic sigh pushed past her lips. One of her companions rolled his eyes skyward before standing up as well and placing a hand on her shoulder. He pushed her aside and said quietly at her murderous glare. "I believe I'm better at this part, Alex."
With a huff, Alex fell back into her seat and the male moved to the front. His armor seemed to be in a worse condition than the woman's, as he was missing the front of a leg covering, his breastplate had a crack running down the middle of it and every piece was covered in a multitude of scratches and dents. He had soft-looking olive skin, a great contrast to the woman's light brown, bright blue eyes and a tuft of russet hair peeking out beneath the gleaming helmet. When he smiled, he was decidedly less vicious than his companion.
"The End, as the desolate place has been named, is another dimension. Just to get there, we needed to traverse both the Overworld and Nether. Legend tells us that it is where the worst evils of the world have been banished, left to rot." Hushed whispers rose from the crowd, people asking their neighbors and friends if they'd heard the legend and a chain of negative responses.
The man waited a few seconds for them to calm down and continued, "These evils reformed as one entity, though the legend has not known that. It is unknown how, but they created a creature to serve them and do their bidding, like spy on us hard-working honest people. These servants have been granted the ability to teleport between the dimensions without the need of a portal." His voice got progressively lower and more mysterious, prompting his listeners to lean forward is suspense. Seeing he had everyone's undivided attention, he also leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial tone, "By the first settlers they were named Endermen."
An uproar took hold of the crowd as the verbal bomb was dropped. Some shouted in surprise, some cursed, some stumbled back and some simply gasped. The little girl who had first asked opened her mouth in a perfect 'o' and her eyes widened. Everyone knew what the adventurer was talking about. Tall skinny monsters with skin blacker than the night that stalked in the shadows and observed from afar. Children were frightened off to bed with stories of how looking into their eyes would spur the beings into aggression and horror stories were told of victims that were hunted down and torn apart limb by limb.
"Yes, those monsters originally came from the End. The evils in that sunless place, the ones responsible for us being hunted, created them to spy on us and never let themselves be seen. They were tasked to kill anyone who ever saw them. And you know why? Because the evils from the End were afraid. Scared that we would go looking for them and get rid of them before they could plan their next strike. And we did!" He shouted suddenly, prompting more cheering from the younger generation.
The diamond-clad man smiled kindly, a smile that would grace a guard's face after saving someone from a dire fate. He continued, "The evils took form in the End. They shaped obsidian for their armor, they knitted wings for their new body. Their hate gave them enough power to burst through any material to get to their unfortunate victim. Their new body was that of a dragon, one that we have faced and slain, and named the Ender Dragon."
Every villager was holding onto his words with wide eyes filled with awe and mouths hanging open in admiration. But once the man stopped talking, disbelief clouded most expressions. No one there had ever heard of a legend like that and many were questioning the truth behind the stranger's words.
"Give us some proof!" A voice rose above the rest and a boy in his early teens fought his way through the crowd, followed by shouts of his parents to get back and another boy who was a splitting image of him, if a few years younger. Both had messy light brown hair and were rather short, with the older having brown eyes and the younger dark blue. The small girl from before spotted them and waved excitedly to the blue-eyed brother with a whispered call of, "Kiran!" The boy responded just as enthusiastically, but his call was lost as more people demanded evidence of the grand deed.
This time, the third person on the wagon stood up, giving a wordless yell to quieten the rowdy crowd. Most people shut their mouths not because of her demand, but because they finally got a good look at her. She was by far the youngest of the three and was missing a helmet and one boot altogether and the rest of her armor looked like it would fall to pieces at the slightest shake. Her right arm was covered by a cast and wrapped in a sling, both of which were stained dark brown with dried blood. A nasty scar stretched from her ear to her collarbone and under her cloths and a part of her hair was missing and replaced with slightly charred tender skin, which could only be the result of fire.
It was obvious she got the worst of whatever fight they'd been in.
Yet, she still smiled brightly when they fell silent, waving away any concerns for her well being, and spoke in a light, excited tone, somehow still carrying the innocence of a child. "That's more like it! Now, of course we have proof, but we have to keep it quiet to avoid bandits and thieves who want the glory for themselves. We have it all here with us. J, if you could?" She motioned to the male, who hopped down from the cart and walked around to the back of it, though not without a grumble, "It's Jacob. You know I hate nicknames, Lilith."
Taking the edge of the dirty once-white fabric, he pulled it half-way off of the cargo. Instantly, the villagers who could see inside gasped audibly. A strange form of skin was stretched and folded on the floor. It seemed to be formed out of tiny jagged obsidian pebbles, which the adventurer quickly explained were scales and that the whole thing was the dragon's hide, and had to be folded over itself at least five times just so it wouldn't peek out of the cart, which was by no means small. At some places the hide was torn or thinner due to missing scales, evidencing how vicious their fight had been.
On top of it was laid an oval mass covered in the same scales and seemingly connected to the hide by a narrow stretch. Most instantly deduced that it was the dragon's head and though it was turned away from them, they could see two horns that protruded from the back of the skull. Next to it, a brown sack was placed and upon opening it, the adventurers revealed four sets of three long curved stark white claws and two smaller straight ones.
But the thing that stole most attention was what looked like a rounded piece of obsidian, easily bigger than a small child. Many questioned it quietly to their friends and then louder for the now deemed heroes to hear. The young injured woman, Lilith, grinned mysteriously at their confusion and spoke in a soft, chilling voice. "That, my dear friends, is the dragon's most guarded prize. That's the dragon's egg!"
Once again, gasps went up from the crowd and they pushed against each other to get a closer look at it. It actually looked a little like a chicken egg, though much larger and of course colored completely wrong. As they were busy ogling the stolen egg, the small black-haired girl pushed her way to the adventurers and approached Alex, who had opted to stay clear of the curious mob of people.
"Uh, miss? Miss Alex?" The child began, looking up at the woman with large eyes. The woman's head snapped down to look at her, seeming startled. "How the Nether did you know my name?" She asked sharply, causing the girl to flinch back a little. Still, she stood her ground. "Yo-your friend called you that name." She explained while rubbing her hands together uncertainly.
Alex opened her mouth to retort, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. A figure swiftly moved past her, only thing noticeable an untamed mane of dark brown hair with turquoise highlights and ends. She huffed as Lilith crouched in front of the girl, brown eyes gentle. She was always better at dealing with people, especially children, probably because she wasn't as scarred by the world as Alex.
"That's really observant, little girl." Lilith said, smiling softly when the girl straightened and beamed under her praise.
"Now, what did you want to ask?"
The child fidgeted for a few moments, losing the courage to ask. These people were heroes, she didn't want to seem stupid in front of them. She had embarrassed herself enough with not knowing what the End was. "I – are you going to keep the dragon as your pet?" She finally blurted out.
Lilith started, surprise evident on her face before she schooled her features again. She was the perfect actor after all, having grown up in a poor family where she had to contribute with a little stealing here and there. She had joined her friends in their quest with the vision that she would be able to clear her name by slaying a great evil, even if she was never caught stealing.
"What dragon do you mean? There is no dragon, we made sure it could never hurt anyone again." She coaxed, careful to avoid the word 'kill', even if the child probably heard it daily.
"I mean the one in the egg." The little girl exclaimed as if it was obvious, a quiet giggle erupting from her throat.
"Of course. Silly me, huh?" The adventurer grinned at the sight of the six-year-old covering her mouth to hide her laugh. Then the subsequent realization of what the child had asked hit her like a brick. Her back straightened and the kind expression slipped from her face. "Of course not!" She nearly shrieked, eyes wide at the mere suggestion and the child jumped back in fright.
Lilith reeled in her shock and continued in a softer tone. Someone should explain the basics of the world to the kid, honestly, she thought. "No, we won't." She said firmly. "We took the egg to make sure it wouldn't hatch, so that no dragon could hurt anyone ever again."
The girl's brows furrowed, a certain spark entering her eyes. Lilith recognized it instantly, it was the determination about being right and the will to talk someone's ears off to prove it. But the girl was way out of her league, she didn't know anything. "It's for the best. You trust me, don't you?" The child paused, then nodded carefully, eyes dimming as she silenced herself. But she still didn't look convinced.
Before she could begin to protest – and Lilith was almost certain she would – a voice rose above the rest, "Amaia!" A boy, probably less than ten years old, with a light brown mop of hair and dark blue eyes, was waving both his arms in their direction as he hurried over. The girl responded in kind and Lilith used the distraction to slip away.
Amaia grinned wide as her friend raced to her side and enveloped her in a crushing hug. Despite being three years apart, they were nearly the same height and were good friends, even if Kiran was overbearingly protective. As he pulled away, he was already pointing excitedly behind him at the crowd of people still observing the cart. "You've got to see this! That dragon was bigger than my house!" He gushed as his eyes sparkled with admiration.
Amaia's eyes widened then narrowed as she stared at her 'big brother' figure. "Na-uh!" The boy only grinned wider. "It is! Maybe big enough to eat it!" He exclaimed. "But your house is huge!"
Amaia's mouth opened to form an 'o' as she tried to imagine how big that was. Her friend was the son of the mayor of their little town and thus had one of the biggest houses in the whole village. His family was the only one to be able to afford a second story that wasn't the roof.
Kiran grabbed her hand a practically dragged her to the wagon and through the crowd. Once they were at the front, they saw that the travelers Alex and Jacob were attempting to stretch the hide of the dragon to show everyone just how big it was. They each took two handfuls, Alex at the head and Jacob at the base of the tail, but they just couldn't keep it suspended well enough for people to see.
Still, it gave them the general idea of how long the creature had been.
Finally they settled on shooing the crowd back and placing the dragon skin on the ground, even if Jacob cringed at how dirty the cobblestone was. Amaia gasped as she watched them lay it out, finally catching a good look at the head. It was fearsome, to say the least. Its snout was littered with cuts and scars, evidencing many fights in the past. The scales that had looked so smooth on its hide were rough and barbed, with sharp ends sticking out on every bend of the skull underneath. A crown of short horns set right behind its eyes, all curved and thick with one pair reaching much further back, twisted and gnarled like the branches of an ancient tree. The dragon's lips were still pulled back in a snarl, frozen in the hateful expression it had in death.
But the most chilling part were the eyes. Though narrowed, Amaia could deduce they were oval when opened wide, with a thin scratch-like pupil separating each eye in two. The eyes were colored a deep dark amethyst at the edges and gradually faded into a soft lilac around the pupil. A glare was forever frozen in them, probably the look the dragon had given its killers, and the child could swear it was still looking at them with that hatred.
As the adventurers carefully arranged it on the ground, Amaia had to admit it was huge. Its wings, pitch black just like the rest of it, spanned easily over ten yards from one tip to the other. Both its neck and tail were as long as a wing and rather thin, the backbone being decorated with long narrow fin-like spines. Where the dragon's rib cage used to be, the hide was wider across and had cut off stumps where its legs should have been.
Amaia gaped in astonishment at the sheer size of the slain beast. "See! I told you!" Kiran suddenly spoke up from her side, wiggling in between two villagers to get to his friend. She only turned to him with a large smile and an excited hand pointing to the head of the dragon. The stars shining in her eyes made him laugh lightly as she urged them forward, completely disregarding the grumbling adults around them. The two children hurried along the front of the crowd, a cacophony of "hey watch it!" and "Get back to your parents" following behind them.
Soon, they were standing beside Alex, and ogling the frightening scaly face. The adventuress huffed and glared at them when they tried to touch it and shooed them away soon enough with a harsh "there, you saw it. Now go."
Amaia grabbed Kiran's hand as his face pinched from the biting tone and led him away. Only when the woman had turned away from them did Amaia turn around and stick her tongue in retribution, making her friend smile slightly. "Yeah, you show her!" He cheered quietly, pausing to give a breathy laugh.
Amaia tugged him a bit more insistently when he stopped and he turned to her questioningly. She just pointed to the wagon, left a ways away from the crowd. The horse was still tied to it and looked quite indignant about it, eyeing a patch of vibrant green grass just out of reach. Kiran grinned in recognition and allowed himself to be dragged out of the crowd and to the white animal by the surprisingly strong six-year-old.
Once they were free of the people and Amaia was sure he would follow her, she let go of his hand and raced to the horse. Instantly upon reaching it, she stood on her tiptoes and placed a small hand slowly on its snout, remembering to not startle the animal. It still neighed it surprise at the tiny pudgy fingers that patted its nose. It pulled its head back after a second, causing the child to stumble and went back to trying to reach the few blades of grass next to a fence. It pawed the ground under its hooves in agitation and threw its head to the side, jiggling the decorative pieces of metal hanging from its reins.
The small girl saw this and frowned for a second before walking over and pulling a few blades from the grassy ground. Spinning around, she offered them to the horse on a flat open palm and the animal instantly gobbled them down, snorting and sniffing her hand after they were gone. Kiran smirked at the display, recalling the way his friend would always find a way to climb onto the gate to the horse pens in the village stables, sit next to one and just talk to it and pet it till the stable worker found her and kicked her out. She did so almost fondly, knowing the child would be back the next day.
Kiran was jerked back to the present by the creaking of aged wood and hooves stomping. He snapped his gaze to the horse and his friend and laughed a little when he saw the horse happily munching on the grass, having walked over to it and dragged the carriage with it. Amaia was standing next to it, patting its flank as silent giggles overtook her body.
Suddenly, a crash sounded from the back of the cart, snapping both youths to attention. Amaia jumped back from the horse, before peering closer at the source of the crash. Kiran came to stand beside her and both stared at the oval rock-like egg. Amaia stepped forward cautiously, but was stopped when Kiran placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come on." He urged, stepping back a little, but the girl stood her ground stubbornly.
"They're gonna think we're stealing it." He hissed, glancing in the direction of the adults, who were oblivious to the displacement of their precious prize. It seemed that the young adventurer was telling a grand tale about how they defeated the Ender Dragon, with both of her comrades interrupting her and correcting details.
"Aw! I just want a look!" Amaia complained before darting forth and ripping herself from his grip. By the time he regained his bearings and bolted after her, she was already crouching over the purple and black object and was hesitantly poking it with a finger. After it didn't do anything at a simple poke, she placed her whole palm on it and with a yelp pulled away.
Kiran was at her side is an instant, concern written all over his face. Tears welled up in Amaia's eyes and her pupils widened as she gazed up at him. She was cradling her hand as though it was burnt and only after insistent persuading did she show it to him. The skin looked fine, smooth as ever and unblemished by any wound. But as he ran a finger along it, he gasped and pulled back in shock. Her skin was freezing!
As he rubbed his hands together to get rid of the unnatural chill, he noticed that the crevices in her skin seemed to change color from shadowed to a dark purple and gradually to a bright lilac that seemed to glow. Panic-stricken eyes looked at him as a tear rolled down the girl's face, but he could do nothing as the glow spread to more and more of her palm. The liquid gathering in her eyes glistened in the sun, but when shadowed by her hair, seemed to be outlined with a violet gleam.
"It'll be alright, Amaia. It'll be okay." He assured as he racked his brain for a solution to the situation. But this was not something his parents prepared him to deal with. All they ever told him was to comfort the people in need and to call them when trouble arose. With moisture glistening in his own eyes, he raised his head and hollered to the sky. "Mon! Dad! Help!"
All noise from the crowd silenced as they looked for the source of the call. One of the adventurers was still holding the Eye of Ender they had been trying to explain to the villagers, but it was quickly abandoned on a nearby outside table. Figures pushed through the stunned mob and Kiran was relieved to see his parents among them. He glanced back to his friend, to assure her or himself of her well-being he wasn't sure. But all he saw was her reaching her now brightly glowing hand to the black shell again, tears drying up and eyes glassy and unfocused.
He glanced to the egg and after a moment noticed what had entranced his friend. Running down the length of hard ebony shell was a thin crack, as though only caused by a nail. Through it, chilling bright purple light shone out and nearly blinded him, accompanied by a wispy dark purple fog, similar to his breath in the cold of winter. It was both haunting and enchanting, and Kiran was too busy inspecting it to notice Amaia place her hand on the fissure and slide it down it. The glow intensified and enveloped everything around him.
Blue eyes wide with fear, Kiran tried to jerk back or yelp or scream, but his whole body was frozen in place. A coldness surrounded him, seeping into his very bones and numbing every muscle from the inside. The world faded from all his other senses, sound quietened to whispers and to nothing, his body seemed to detach from the rough cobblestone road and the smell of livestock and cut wood and grass disappeared.
A second later, the world appeared around him again and the malevolent presence vanished. He gazed around wildly as the ground returned under his feet, cold and unforgiving, and his balance was thrown off, sending him crashing to the ground. Startled cries of villagers and orders of an authoritative voice he couldn't place dimly registered in his mind as he pushed himself up, tears brimming in his eyes as pain danced over dozens of scratches on his forearms.
When he managed to sit up, he figured out what all the fuss was about. The egg, which had gleamed in the sun like a dark purple gem was now darker than black, not even the barest of amethyst spots visible. Where the crack had glowed before, was now only blackness that seemed to be oozing an ebony mucus-like substance.
But that all seemed insignificant once Kiran registered not what was in the scene, but what wasn't. Where Amaia had stood was only a circle of disturbed dust and a tiny flat shard that looked eerily similar to the scales of the dead dragon.