Ozymandias

Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said—"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away."

Legacy Unwritten: A New Domain

Chapter 1: Beginnings of War

The land of Vyanfar had always been so…cold. Ever since I arrived here ten years ago, I have struggled to adjust to the colder temperatures. Where I grew up, it had usually been warm and the average climate was temperate. But here, in the Northern Kingdoms, it was always either snowing or just sunny, but cool. It was not something a Dragon like me could get used to, even after all that time.

This country, known as Vyanfar to the locals, was situated much farther north in the Realms than the Kingdom of Warfang, which sits many kilometers to the south on an entirely separate continent. Warfang had been a prosperous and booming city before its fall during The Second Draconic Civil War. Vyanfar had been lucky, the entire continent had been spared from the raging conflict in its sister nation to the south. We haven't received communication from the city or nation of Warfang in a little over eight years now. The final message that we received was from a lone messenger that had somehow braved The Great Sea alone. It had been a dark letter for the king to read, and not at all pleasant. A small village…what had it been called? Draxis, I think? Yes, that's right. Draxis, a small village some forty-five kilometers to the south of the 'Great' Dragon City had been the final holdout on the continent. The message had said that the village was under siege and was requesting assistance.

The king, in his normal, warm tone had declared that no ally of Vyanfar should stand alone. So, the messenger, Wersei was his name, had led a small scouting force back to the village. I had heard reports of what had transpired once the scouting party had arrived, but I never knew what to think of it. They had arrived at the village to find it burned to the ground, with corpses of dragons, wolves, moles and other creatures all lining the streets, either burned alive or with stab, slash or elemental related wounds in their chests. They hadn't found a single survivor. Wersei, the messenger, had been a little under the age of seventeen when we had received the message. He had taken the demise of his friends and family quite well, actually. Now, he sat beside me as we waited.

Waiting for the end, I suppose.

The same forces that had attacked Warfang and Draxis years ago had finally set their eyes on Vyanfar and the capital city of the same name. The forces that had destroyed an entire nation sent thousands of troops across the Great Sea to face us, but we have held out strongly.

Five years into the conflict, and it has mostly been a rendition of a hatchling's game of tug of war. We attack one portion of the continent, and then our aggressors would capture another. Only the capital city has remained under Vyanfarian control for the entire war. Now, we play a waiting game, we lay siege to one village under the opposing army's control, and we lose another to the aggressors. It had gone on like this for five years…five years of my life wasted fighting a conflict that is only going to end in one way for my adoptive nation.

In defeat.

"Hey, bud. You alright over there?" A voice suddenly boomed into my left ear, breaking me out from my personal thoughts.

I looked over at the dark blue Ice Dragon sitting beside me. Wersei is a slight bit shorter than me, despite the fact that he's one year older than me. He was in his twenty-seventh year now, now no longer a hatchling by most standards, and well on his way into adulthood. A slight look of confusion was cast upon his narrow face. His light blue eyes stared into mine with emotion and weariness cast into them. His face is covered in scratches and scars, he's seen more conflict than even I have to this day. He's a long term soldier, I'll give him that. His wings are folded back comfortable behind him in a relaxed fashion. The dark shade of gray on his wing membranes contrasts greatly with his dark blue scale tone, and his wings are much larger than the ones that I possess. His tail is folded behind him on the ground, coiled around like a serpent, but ending in that familiar spike-like blade shape that I have become used to over the years. His underbelly, scarred by a large, but fading, wound under his neck, is a light shade of white.

"I'm fine Wersei, just doing a bit of…reminiscing," I said quietly.

He nodded slowly, uninterested in the conversation. He turned away from me and looked across the field, completing forgetting that I was even there. The Ice Dragon was a great friend to me, but he tended to be a bit…absent minded at times. He was suffering from a mental condition known as depression, according to what his medical advisor had told him. I'm vaguely familiar with the condition, and I know with some certainty that it had been caused from his visit to his home village all those years ago. His full title with the citizens of Vyanfar is 'Wersei, Last Son of Draxis'.

To say the least, he's not very fond of that title.

I shook my head and observed my surroundings. We were at the head of a wall of Vyanfarian soldiers outside the second largest city in the country, Vardenfell. We were standing on top of an actual wall that surrounded the city in full. We had received many reports from scouting parties stationed outside the capital that were some of the aggressor's troops had been moving eastward, away from the siege around the capital city. The troops there had been plentiful and were close to opening a supply chain towards the west side of the city. As a result, the monarch of Vyanfar, Patricio XI, had decided to move a small force out of the city amongst the cover of night in order to reinforce the small garrison already stationed at Vardenfell. The plan had gone smoothly, Wersei, Patricio and I had a force of some three hundred soldiers standing behind us, plus the one hundred that had already been stationed in the city. The scouts had reported that two hundred to two hundred fifty soldiers were headed our way, a detachment from the siege force around the capital.

Patricio now stood in front of both of us, casting his dark blue eyes westward. He was an Ice Dragon himself, but he was much older than both Wersei and I had never bothered to learn how old he was, there was never any point in it. He had said once that he was 'at least double your lifespan.' The light blue scales that he had possessed in his younger days had long since faded in a silvery-blue color. His underbelly was a light purple color and his tail ended in a series of spikes that looked like the branches of an evergreen, albeit in the same purple shade as his underbelly. He was wearing armor all over his body, except for his helmet, which sat to his side. It was regally fashioned, much like Wersei and I's own sets. All three of our sets of armor included a helmet, body armor, a tail blade sheath, gloves and other, customized aspects that pertained to each of us. Both Wersei and Patricio had their helmets off, but I preferred to keep my own situated on top of my head. It covered my face, except for my eyes, which Patricio had always stated that they reminded him of sets of amethyst. I had never really cared for that description.

As if he had noticed my gaze, the old Ice Dragon slowly turned his head around to face me and Wersei, but he kept the rest of his body still facing the wall. He smiled understandingly, reading the doubtful look written on my face.

"You mustn't worry so much, son. Vardenfell will hold. I would stake my crown on it," Patricio said in his warm tone.

"Yes, sire." I replied slowly.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he said, "How many times must I tell you, my son? You need not refer to me as such. I am your adoptive father, am I not?"

I nodded slowly, but I remained silent. The old Ice Dragon sighed, and spoke again, "I understand your doubts. This war has been brutal on Vyanfar, and I have had my doubts about holding out for much longer. Our own troops wither while our enemy's only seem to grow stronger. However, I feel as if a new dawn is coming, my son. You will be at my side to see it, I sense."

I nodded back at my adoptive father. He had taken me in when I had come to Vyanfar in my younger years at the request of my old…father, who had been colleagues with Patricio in his younger days. Patricio, who had never taken a mate or had children, was happy to take me in. He had done the same with Wersei, and he had been a great mentor and…father. He had trained the both of us, and Wersei was like a second brother to me.

Suddenly, a series of shouts broke me from my concentration. One of the soldiers on the far wall was shouting something about incoming troops. Patricio returned his gaze to the horizon, searching for any signs of conflict. His eyes opened wide and his maw dropped slightly as he observed what was approaching from the west.

"Ancestors…no."

I looked around him and my confidence wavered slightly. A group of a dark masses could be seen in the distance. However, there were many more than the scouts had reported. The dark wings almost blotted out the sky.

"Dark dragons." I muttered. Wersei looked at me and nodded, but he pointed to something at the front of the formation of dark wings.

"Do you see that, bud? Is that…?" He said, trailing off.

I squinted my eyes, trying to get a clearer picture of what the Ice Dragon was pointing at. He was right, there was something larger and darker than the rest of the forces straight at the head of the formation. I could point out that it was a dragon, it had dark black, in a sort of midnight shade, scales, six horns dotting its head and…a magenta colored underbelly.

"Cynder." Patricio's voice sounded from the side. He looked straight at me, knowing what those two words meant to me.

I clenched my front-paw together and looked down at the ground. Memories came flooding back into my mind.

Cynder…Terror of the Skies, the Dark General, Harbinger of Doom, Black Wings Unfurled. She had led the armies that had destroyed Warfang, Draxis, Shattered Vale and my own home. She was the dragoness responsible for ruining Wersei and I's lives and forcing me to retreat here to Vyanfar…

I unclenched my paw and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. I could not let myself be overcome with anger. It was not fitting of me.

Patricio's paw came to my shoulder. I looked up to him, my face covered with concern. He reached up to my face and pulled the helmet off of my head. I looked down at the ground, in an attempt to hide my face. The Ice Dragon brought my head back up and he stared at me directly in the eye.

"My son-"

"Father. Please, call me by my real name," I said, cutting him off.

He nodded, and continued, "You were given the position of being the heir to the Vyanfarian throne because I trust you, both of you, with my life. I know what both of you can do and what you are capable of. Don't ever lose sight of that…Spyro."

I nodded, as I said, "I'm ready, Patricio. Let the Legacy of the Purple Dragon be decided today."

My name is Spyro, Last Son of Warfang, Heir to the Throne of Vyanfar, The Fallen Savior.

And this is my story.

A/N: Hey, everybody. Thanks for reading the first chapter to my new story. I'm taking a quick break from Eternal Slumber to write this new story. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going to take it, but this should be fun to write. I hope that the storyline intrigues you and that you will keep reading!

Just want to hand out a huge thanks to HKGhost (Shadow) for supplying this story concept to me. He's busy focusing on his own projects and wanted me to take this one and run with it. Thanks, Shadow, for giving me this base for a story. I greatly appreciate it.

Again, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the rest of this story.

Dominis det vobis fortitude. –Unit Omicron