These camps...are the only sign of life outside of the kingdom of Wyrsil. We managed to escape the castle before we were killed, but I can't say the same for the majority of our group. After The Decimation, nobody is safe in the camps.
The king of Wyrsil, Corval, sentenced all those who didn't believe-no-worship the "All Mighty" and "Omniscient" dragon, Rynth, to death. Many were already murdered before we could initiate our plan. I still remember that day well.
Panicked yells, quick footsteps, ragged breaths. Hearts racing, ears ringing, eyes burning. Stomachs empty and throats dry, we continued to run. Spears thrown our way and coming way to close for comfort more and more every time. The clinking as they alighted to the tiled ground harmlessly gave us much relief. Loud, echoey shouts for more guards only caused us to run faster. I led the group through thick and thin, and before we knew it, we saw something that we thought we would never see again.
Light. Pure, and real, light.
We followed that light and were met by fresh air, not the polluted kind that seeped in through the rusty vents of our prison, but the real thing.
We outran the guards, who were wearing heavy armor that slowed them down. We dodged the arrows that were aimed for our heads. We tripped and stumbled, but we made it out alive. We constructed the camps from the supplies that we had found on our long trip to hide from Wyrsil. We did not fear the dragon. We just didn't want to acknowledge it as a god. We didn't want to be forced, but Corval still attempted to do so. When we fought back, he ordered for us to be captured and sentenced to death.
The Decimation is just a mass homicide, but the royal family covers for it and hides the truth to the public. Apparently he said that we were disobeying the rules of the kingdom, in a large group, and imprisoned us.
I don't think that this so called "Rynth" would be so happy with you, Corval. Maybe it despises you for your actions, your deeds that have gone unpunished. Maybe it doesn't exist, and is just a way to cover up rebels in the kingdom. Surely a king wouldn't want to be impeached, so he would say that Rynth told him that they were about to commit a crime. Of course the dragon-worshippers would believe him, if their Rynth said so.
I do believe that he exists, just not as in "oh, the omnipotent dragon" sort of way.
Maybe it's just me, but I could be wrong. The rest of the refugees seem to agree in my points of reasoning. Over the past few months, that has been the only thing that really happens. Collect supplies, brew remedies for those who had fallen ill from the harsh conditions of the prison, rest, eat, and converse about the kingdom. That dastardly, horrible kingdom.
"Kyren..."
That voice again? It's been calling my name for the past week or two..
"Kyren..."
Seems like I'm the only one who hears it. I've asked around the camp and have had nobody else hearing things-maybe I got diagnosed by some kind of mental disease, or something while we were locked up. It's starting to give me migraines every time it, well, calls me.
Getting up from my seat on a rock, my head begins to pound even more. I put my hand to mask the right side of my head, where the sensation is, and shut my right eye and grit my teeth. D*mn...this is starting to hurt more than I thought it would.
Nobody believes me, they think I'm "going through a phase", or some stupid phrase they say to teenagers. I'm 17 and the leader of the refugees, I don't need a lecture about something normal teenagers go through. Last time I checked, I wasn't a normal teen.
"Kyren...the forest..."
I can't take this anymore...
Holding my head, I grudgingly head to the forest. Let's see whose been calling me, shall we?
Flying wasn't something you did very often. You'd hidden in your cave for a full century, Corval bringing you the carcasses of cows and goats most days while on others, you merely walked around your lonely mountain for a little while before catching yourself a nice bear to eat. Bears were good, tough and thick but squishy and juicy in the meaty parts and wow, now you're hungry. Hungry and starving and you might just eat some of the refugees. Gross gross disgusting, what's wrong with you?
Nonononono, you shake your head, tilting slightly and fumbling to keep yourself in the air because you almost forgot you had to keep flapping your wings. You grit your teeth, nostrils flaring slightly as the muscles in your back and wings somewhat ache as you look for the stupid stupid humans who dare escape. They were meant to die, Corval said so and you want them to die. You want them to suffer like you've always suffered. Maybe that's why you always agree to whatever Corval says, no matter how much you hate the man and no matter how much he fears you. Misery loves company, after all.
Growling, you shake your head again. No. Stop. (Suchafunnywordstopstopstop) No! You can't afford to lose yourself in your thoughts right now. You need to... To what? To... To...
You want to scream and claw at your arms. Stupid stupid stupid! You were supposed to be doing something, something important! Right? Right. It's important, something, something. You sniffle, brow scrunching as you land on the floor. You don't know where you are but you're feeling angry, angry and frustrated and you feel like crying because can't you do even one thing right? Just one?
Your claws dig into the ground and you growl low in your throat before pausing suddenly. You're far from the kingdom, you know that, so then why do you smell humans? The smell isn't far from where you are and you hear the sound of a rushing river. Water equals animals equals food equals humans. Yes? Yes.
You fall onto all fours, creeping closer to the smell, you wince as branches hit your back but you ignore it. You're big, but not as big as an adult dragon. Exactly nineteen feet when you're on your back legs, but you usually walk on all fours. You're probably smaller than a normal dragon would be, and a bit scrawnier; you don't eat much, sometimes you forget to eat. As a dragon, you're barely a teen, no matter how many short human centuries you've lived through. If you were a human, you'd probably be counted as fourteen years old at the very most.
Huffing, your breath making the leaves shake, you narrow your eyes trying to get a better look. Frowning, you lick your chops thoughtfully. Fly, fly up and look. Look and smell and destroy. Destroy and kill and murder and maim and that's what you have to do, you kind of remember now. Kill the ones that escaped. They escaped from dying, Corval said they tried to kill you, we're planning to kill you, you couldn't have that though, could you? Nonono, you told Corval to kill them before they could kill you, ordered him to do so or you'd kill them and Corval himself. You think you played right into his hands by doing so, but you forget why you thought this quite some time ago.
You're flying, you don't remember flying up but you get lost in your thoughts a lot, so you accept it. You follow the smell of humans. The scent is different from that of those in the kingdom. It's sickly and the smell of old blood surrounds it and you wonder how you didn't smell it before; it's so strong. They smell like fear and indignity and anger and hope. You're confused and curious but you remember what Corval had said. They had planned to kill you, to make you suffer even more than you've already had and they should've died but they escaped and you'll make them pay for sure.
You're roaring before you know it, the sound echoing as you fly in a circle around the small tents and barely built huts. The warmth in your stomach grows steadily as you snarl, head whipping wildly around as you search for humans. You smell them you smell them, you know they're here or were here but now they're not and why is that, where are they?! You drop and land on top of a hut, the branches snapping under your weight. You feel the heat traveling upwards and before you know what hit you, you're blowing fire at the homes around you. Round and round and round you spin, spitting fire out at the small shelters and burning burning them all. The fire's spreading and you pause in between each surge of flames to snarl and spit and curse and stomp the ground with your front paws because where the f*ck are they hiding, you're failing you're failing you're failing and it scares you because they were supposed to be here and where are they?!
You stomp forward, burning everything in your path, tail lashing out to knock over anything your royal purple flames missed. Where are they where are they where are they? You scream as loud as you can until your lungs burn and your ears ring and you're cut off by a sharp pain in your throat and you cough and cough and you can't scream anymore and this doesn't help anything. You stomp and stomp and stomp, you know you look horrifying and know you're a mess but you can't stop because your alonealonealone and you want to find these stupid humans and kill them already so that you could hole up in your cave and maybe not move for the next few years because wow your eyes burn and your chest hurts and everything is collapsing around you. You no longer know if you're mad or sad or frustrated or lonely or miserable or wanting or anything really and you're not sure you ever really knew.
You hear what sounds like frantic breathing and you immediately silence yourself. Someone, someone's running here, towards you, towards the camp. You turn your head just as a human bursts out from the woods. He's panicking, sort of? Maybe? He's wide eyed and wearing armor and clothes you've only seen warrior humans wear. He has shades on, covering his eyes but you can see they're wide eyed at the sight of you and you kind of feel giddy and anxious because you finally found a human and now you can kill them but then a bad feeling grows in your gut. He's holding a sword and oh, it's bright and shining and fills you with apprehension and there's already blood on it; not your blood, your blood is purple but red makes you queasy, the smell makes you sick because you /know/ that smell and no no no no no no, you failed you failed; failure, you're nothing but a failure.
That's Corval's scent, Corval's blood, the royal family's blood and you've failed again, you've failed to protect. The giddiness is gone and you just feel sick and horrified and mad, oh so mad. You're gonna destroy him, murder and maim and flay alive. You're gonna crush him bone by bone and keep him alive as long as possible as you eat him limb by limb.
You roar and his shoulders set as he falls into an offensive position, sword at the ready. You're gonna make him pay for what he's done; for making you an even bigger failure than you already knew you were.
"Rynth, huh? Dragon of Wyrsil, from the fairy tales? No," Kyren raised the sword in front of his face, "More like the dead dragon of Wyrsil."
Rynth growled, crawling-stomping towards the sword wielder.
"I am going to end you, dragon. No more shall we suffer because of you and that king-no-late king, Corval. I am the beginning of the new era, the start of a time that you cease to exist! I am Kyren, wielder of the Blade of Beginnings, Elynt, and today, you DIE!"
Kyren charged closer to the dragon, holding the blade with two hands at his side. He narrowed his eyes, and tightened his grip on Elynt. He let out a yell as he launched himself off the ground with his leg and prepared to strike the beast.
(A/N's)
HerHiddenSecret: I really like writing crazy, tho it kinda affects my writing skills? xP whoops.
SSJ2BlazeSG: I actually wrote something in this chapter! *gasp* You could probably tell who wrote which part, though. Well, there isn't really much for us to talk about in these author's notes, so I guess we'll see you in the next chapter!