I apologize for the long wait. I was very busy. Either way, I hope you enjoy!

"More and more I find myself struggling to keep fighting.

More and more I find myself asking 'why?'

What purpose is there in fighting a losing battle, a losing war that turns brother against brother, cousin against cousin, father against son?

What kind of God do we have that allows such travesty to occur?

God looks after the sick, the poor, and the drunkards.

But as of late I am not sure.

All I see is death.

Nobles and peasants, the young and old, men and women.

I see them.

I hear them.

And I cannot make it stop.

What God would allow His people to suffer?

Where is He in our time of need?

If He is not on our side….then I will keep fighting.

I will not stand by and watch as the vanity of men is shielded by hypocrisy and idiocies.

They do not care about what is right or wrong.

They care about winning.

History is ruled by the victors.

The bigger the lie, the more likely others are willing to believe it.

They become heroes, saints of time remembered in song and legend.

Those that lose become the villains, their cause lost in the echo of a time long forgotten.

The truth buried.

Who is to say?

Perhaps I too shall share the same fate as the injustices of history?

Of Fate?

Perhaps…Perhaps at one point I could have ended it all?

But that revelation came too late as a nightmare that would follow wherever I went.

I served as the trigger, the catalyst.

All those innocents….their blood is on my hands.

It is my fault.

That is why I fight.

If we lose, the memory of these people will cease to matter, cease to exist.

They will become the victims, as will I.

If I lose….everyone loses.

If I lose….Anaya loses.

If I lose...Sophia loses.

If I lose...the beast will claim my soul.

I will not let these men put us on the wrong side of history, nor shall I let the wyrm succeed.

I will not fail.

Not again.

This is why I fight."

The cavern reign in silence for quite some time within the darkness. The necromancer lie dead, an occasional blob of viscous blood forcing itself from his mouth, as if being pumped by a stilled heart or unseen entity. The blood contained an unnatural tint of dusk, the warm life liquid running freely, hazardously across the seams of the rocky cavern floor, following a path most unnatural.

As if being beckoned, the viscous substance approached the hapless chick. Seraphina's cries remained unanswered, though the young drake did not cease in her struggles to break her bonds-a feat that would no doubt make her mother proud. However, the drakeling's struggles were for not as the blood rose and enveloped her, as if a spider were spinning a web. The blood muffled the cries of the struggling chick, slipping past her mouth and nostrils and soaking into her white eyes until her body stilled, as if going limp.

A sudden, sharp twitch hit the young dragoness, followed by another, and then another. She could not breathe, and pain wracked her small body as a sudden gutteral growl tore through her throat. Her muscles began to bulge and grow to enormous proportions, as did her body to accompany the form that was not hers as her scales faded and twisted, turning a darkened shade of purple. The now feeble wood and rope snapped under the pressure as the dragon grew ten fold, eyes sharp and of a golden hue, wings large and powerful, tattered and torn.

The spasming ceased, and the larger, more muscular drake stood and flexed, a sigh displaying the longing it had felt for thousands of years.

"I live...again!" Malefor beamed, massive wings outstretching as he reveled in victory, gaze falling upon the corpse of the man, "And you...this could have been you. But you had to be weak, fearful, and now look at you. Look where failure leads you. Such a pathetic and weak creature you are. Hmmmmm...still...you could be of use to me yet." Malefor spoke, voice slow, as if in thought.

"Yes, you still can. I would be a fool to think otherwise."

"Well...here she is! I hope our library is to your liking, Ember." William exclaimed, chest puffed in pride at the numerous books and scrolls the chamber contained as the dragoness looked upon in bewilderment. Never had she seen such a place.

"Thank you. It's...amazing, that's for sure. I've never seen this many books in one place. Not that I've seen many books, either." Ember replied, slightly embarrassed as her scales flushed a shade of red.

"Well now, it is just something new to experience." William chuckled, "Now, this way, please. I have a general idea of where the books pertaining your species should be. That is, God forbid, if my brother did not burn them. He always hated to read. He even used to scribble doodles of biblical parodies in the margins of the books!"

"Parodies? What kind?" Ember asked, curiosity peaked.

"Bah, just of childish things. He never took his studies seriously. Not that my brother was unintelligent, for he was far from it. He just had no interest in the Bible, the New and Old Testaments or the ancient Greek philosophers. I was interested in books, whilst my brother was interested in watching people squirm."

"How did he become king then? He didn't seem nice. Or sound it." Ember asked, the pair walking through the library, squires and scholars moving to and fro.

"Through marriage, child."

"Marriage?" Ember asked, truly unsure what the word was, though she had heard it from her human friends from time to time.

"Marriage is a...holy union of two individuals. Husband and Wife, bound by the vows spoken to God undo death." William replied, trying to explain.

"Husband and Wife? So...they are mates?" The pink dragoness questioned, struggling to compare it to something she was familiar with.

"In that sense, yes. The intent of the coupling is to produce a child, as is the same with any pair of animals...or dragons, in your case."

Ember narrowed her eyes slightly, as if squinting yet unable to see something, "I...think I understand. Do you have a mate? I mean, I don't want to be rude, but I want to learn more about humans and their ways. The...Duchess, Anaya? She...was your daughter? If so, do you have a mate?"

William paused, clearing his throat, a bit caught off guard by the question, "I did have a wife, yes. A mate, in your terms, I suppose. Ada died nearly two decades ago. And yes, Anaya was my daughter. Our daughter." The man frowned slightly, once more clearing his throat, scratching his greying beard.

"Oh...I'm sorry. I never should have brought it up." The dragoness replied, the Duke shaking his head.

"No, no. There is nothing wrong in wanting to learn. Is there anything else?"

"Are you...from here? This land? Or did you travel and find this land and make it your territory?" Ember asked, the man chuckling.

"You can say I traveled here. My brother and I hail from England, more specifically Dubris Kent, a port city. As required of a noble family, we were given wives at sixteen. However, that required traveling to Bavaria, and I wed the youngest daughter, Ada, and my brother wed Elisabeth. The locals detested us, and it took years to gain their trust. Naturally, as death comes, our father-in-law passed, and the throne was passed to my brother and his wife, for Elisabeth had a claim through blood."

"Oh," Ember exclaimed, nodding as if to confirm that she understood, "So did you know your wife before hand?"

"Not a thing about her." The old Duke shook his head, "A marriage is...not about emotional attachments or love. It is about forging alliances."

Ember frowned, wings dropping slightly, "That sounds terrible."

William now looked upon her, head cocked slightly in curiosity, "Terrible? Perhaps for others, but not for me. I grew to love my wife, and she, I."

"And your brother?"

"Eamon, not so much. They bore a child out of duty, not out of emotional attachment. My daughter was...both, I will not lie."

"So...bearing a child is duty, not an act of love?" The dragoness tried to reason.

"Partly...yes and no. consummating a relationship without love does not mean that the child will be unloved. Each child is precious, for many do not live to the years of adolescence, yet for the higher classes, yes, it is a sense of duty. Children carry on your blood and name, but bearing a male child is deemed the most...positive."

"Positive? Why? Dragons of different genders are treated the same...mostly. Silas tried to explain one time with a story...it was...with the first humans, I think, and how they left a garden." Ember shook her head, trying to think.

"Ah, I think you mean Adam and Eve. That is the reason in the Bible, yet something far more practical is simply that bearing a male child allows for your blood and titles to be passed on. Female children do not gain anything from their fathers except a title if they are nobility. For example, since I am a Duke, my child was given the rank of Duchess."

"So...with Eamon dead...wouldn't his wife be the next ruler? Well...still rule?" Ember asked, William scrunching his nose slightly.

"Well, you are the thinking in the right direction, but no. While you are correct that Elisabeth would lead by her connection with blood, she is deceased as well. She became barren after her daughter was born, and feeling like a failure to her country and crown...killed herself. My brother truly went mad after that. Now, however, the title of ruler goes to the next of kin-in this case their daughter, Anora."

"Anora? Is she at least nice? Or a better ruler than her father?" Ember asked, worried and not wanting anymore bloodshed and death.

"Anora has her mother's looks and father's brains. She recently married her betrothed in France, so it may take some time for her to even receive the news of what has happened here, and even longer to travel. Therefor...I imagine I shall rule as temporary regent." William replied, shaking his head as he felt a migraine coming on, "I do not even want to think about it."

"I certainly don't envy you." Ember commented, the female pausing as the man stopped and looked at a section of books, "Did you find them?"

"I believe so, yes. At least they should be here." William replied, grabbing a leather bound book and flipping through it, briskily reading the contents, "Yes, this is the section."

Ember watched as the man plucked several books from the shelves, watching as his movements-no matter how simple and small-seemed so graceful. It was then the dragoness actually took time to study the hands of humans. The Duke's hands were large and thick with heavy callouses. However, they appeared to sport an odd softness that contrasted with several cracked and healing scars of war. She had noticed tiny talons upon his fingertips and wondered what was their function, for they appeared too flat and short for combat or grabbing. Yet the thing that intrigued the dragoness the most was the odd opposable fingers that seemed to be broken off from the other four. It appeared the humans used this strange body part to grab.

The wyrm's saphire eyes flicked to her own talons, which expressed qualities of feminism. Briefly, she wondered if she could pick up a book as graceful as any human.

Curious, Ember reached for one of the numerous books upon the shelves, a talon wrapping around the leather binding to gently pull the book from it's prison-for she feared causing damage to the old parchment. Beside her, William had paused to watch the pink dragon, whom now was having difficulty grasping the book.

Ember continued to struggle, scales flushing in embarrassment as the simple action took much longer than necessary.

"May I?" William asked, watching Ember as she had eventually given up, sighing.

"Yes, you may. I'm sorry."

The Duke shrugged ever so slightly, plucking the book from it's proper home, "Without trying you can never learn what you may accomplish."

With that, the pair went to a small study that was littered with various maps, treadies, books and scrolls. The old Duke set his burden down on a nearby table, moving to clean off his desk, "I apologize for the state of disarray. I left in such a hurry."

"It's alright. I understand." Ember replied, eyes looking around to see an otherwise clean study lined with even more book shelves and even larger maps upon the walls along with several tapestries.

"Well then, here we go." William grunted slightly, placing the dragon books upon his desk-some being several volumes thick.

Ember's eyes looked upon the books, a talon gently opening the leather cover to it's contents, her eyes growing wide, "...ummmm..."

"Is something wrong?" The man asked, an eyebrow cocked in curiosity before recognition hit his senses, "Ahhh, I see. You do not know how to read?"

"...No, no I don't. Dragons have always spoken orally. Well, not always, I think." Ember replied, clearing her throat as her scales flushed once more.

"Well then...this might go faster. I can skim through the books and see if any bring up dragon history. Many may be tales such as Ser George and the Dragon, and...various acts against dragons that I imagine you would not like."

"Like what?" Ember asked caustiously, yet curiously. William paused as he cleared his throat.

"Many cultures view dragons as...pests, or symbols of war. Even demonic forces. Thus, they are often killed. Though in stories, dragons mainly eat virgin sacrifices or just sit around and hoard untold amounts of gold. In the Far East, however, I have read that they look upon dragons as benevolent creatures that bring water."

"Oh...well, I guess it's better that I can't read then."

"Very, I think. Now, we have many books to go through, and I am eager to discover. Let us begin." William smiled, Ember nodding as she settled down beside the man's desk, trying to make sense of the odd symbols.

"I cannot believe it! Five books I have gone through yet there is nothing useful!" William replied, and despite his frustration slipped out a yawn, the sun slowly rising, "Properties of dragons' blood, dragons' breath-I do not care about such useless things!"

"Perhaps we should stop?" Ember replied, groggy from having dozed off several times. The Duke shook his head.

"No, no. We have only one more...one...more..." William yawned, though struggled to shake himself awake as he picked up an old book which appeared as if it would fall apart.

"Hmmmm, what is this...'Birth of the Ancestors'. What?"

"Ancestors? What kind? We believe that our Ancestors watch over us." Ember replied, excitement in her voice as her tail wagged.

"I...do not know...let me see..." The man replied, becoming alert as he opened the book, seeing the words written in red, "Well...it is either written in red ink or blood. Hupm, it is blood. Odd."

"Blood? That's...nasty. What does it say?" Ember asked, popping the Duke's personal bubble as she rested her head upon his shoulder, trying to read that words that she could not.

"Calm down, friend. I need a moment to read this. It does look...authentic, however..."

Ember said nothing as the man silently read the book, and it only took several minutes for the man to clear his throat, "I think you will like this. Allow me to read a section."

With that, the Duke spoke:

"Once, in the very beginning of the dragon race, there was magic. This magic was so strong that it amassed together, and birthed the very first Dragon Elders, infused with all the elements that their descendants would contain. However, no element within the Dragon Elders' blood could be unlocked, so the Dragons of Old focused upon the power of Time. As they began to breed, the elements within their blood were passed down to their offspring, and were unlocked.

Yet out of all their clutches, eight were vastly superior, and surpassed all their siblings in their elements. The Dragon Elders saw that their children were great, and guided their brood as they came into contact with Humans, the petty creatures revering their eight children as Gods.

Silvanox, the Dragon of Earth and Forest. It was he who was staunch, and wise, and vigilant in the defense of his worshipers, who were hard workers with the land and rock by which they farmed and mined. His altar was of the most precious gems and carved granite, which a sacred tree had bloomed around, and defended.

Vivirdissal, the Dragon of Sea and Lake. Whimsical was he, and a lover of fine art and song as his women danced and showered him with pearls, and his men worked the very waters he claimed for fish and treasure. His altar was in a cave, half submerged with glittering earthen teeth, both up and down where Sirens sung his words of praise to the worthy.

Clarusaer, the Dragon of Wind and Sky. Carefree he was, yet quick to spit and anger if one dampered his many joyous days of play. His worshipers played many musical instruments, and soared upon the gusts of his breaths, and relied heavily upon the wind from his wings to keep the dust at bay from their homes and farms among and dry and cracked ground. His altar was upon a mountain, shrouded with strong gales that seemed to whisper and sing of his glory, like the musical instruments his people played.

Levunda, the Dragon of Shock and Storms. Terrible, yet nurturing was she, like a scornful mother. Her worshippers celebrated her glory by performing water and storm dances, playing loud drums and gongs with the rhythm to her bellows as she danced in the sky, giving life saving rain to those worthy, and flashing lightning to deter attackers from her people. Her altar was surrounded by trees, burnt and dead from her power. Yet from her rain, as if from her tears of sorrow, the trees would grow and bloom for those worthy of her good graces.

Crystator, the Dragon of Cold and Ice. Cunning and callous was he as he ruled from his frigid peak. His land was cold and dry, and heat, there was no where to find. His people were hardy and strong, yet cunning and callous like their God, which he favored. They honored their God by building a temple of ice, his altar deep within the core of lost treasures and hidden fates.

Atura, the Dragon of Ash and Fire. Passionate and beautiful was she, a lover of fertility and mothering, which her women had often asked in blessings for. Her worshipers were many a mother and father in a harsh land, one side forest, and other burned wood. Her altar was surrounded by cooled lava, obsidian and flawless rubies scattering her altar along with tokens of her people as prayer.

Solaether, the Dragon of Light and Heaven. Gentle and peaceful this dragon was, a stunning beast made out of magic and light. His people were nothing more than mere travelers, living off the land, and always moving towards the setting sun. They would dance during the night for their Dragon God to return, and pray during the day, for the sun was his altar.

Noctemor, the Dragon of Moon and Shadow. Wrathful and shadowed was he, with armor and scales as black as true darkness that haunts the soul. His people were savage and rash, raping, pillaging and killing, for they followed the moon, and the moon turned shades of blood in the night.

The Dragon Elders did their best to to guide their children to peace, and while their children obeyed, their followers did not. Tensions built, and swelled, and soon the tribes had broken out into war, forcing their Dragon Masters to battle their own siblings. The rivers ran red with blood, the forests burned and died, the fires smoldered, the ice cracked and fell, the earth quaked and tumbled, the wind died down to nothing, and the rain ceased and thunder quieted. The Dragons of Old could only watch in terror as their once close children ripped each other apart, yet they could not help their offspring, for they lacked elements. Yet they did have something their offspring could not help but envy: Dragon Time.

Solaether and Noctemor continued to battle, causing nothing but death and destruction in their wake that the Dragon Elders were desperate to stop. Thus, the Dragons of Old united, and together, fully unlocked Dragon Time, focusing their raw power upon their quarrelsome children. In a deafening scream, time was ripped and scarred, throwing the two dragons into time, lost.

The Dragon Elders, with all their strength and knowledge, faded from existence at the strain of their task, bursting into energy, as they watched over their remaining offspring. The Ancestors were unable to physically communicate with their children, and began to do so in dreams, guiding their descendants.

The Ancestors saw the error in their ways, and one had offered to become the Chronicler, to guard time and prevent time from ever being scarred again. Thus their offspring, and their fate, became lost in time and legend.

The scarring of time had also corrupted their children, infusing their offspring with multiple elements upon their parents' deaths. Soon, their offspring began to breed, birthing the dragons of Fire, Ice, Earth, Lightning, and other elements. Until Atura became gravid, and produced not a fire egg, but a purple shell.

Atura, along with her siblings, disappeared into time as other dragons came into play, thousands of years before the discovery of the purple egg. The dragons were confused, for they had never seen a purple egg before. Until it hatched, and the dragon known as Malefor was born, and would leave a mark in the annals of history.

The first Chronicler watched in horror as the Purple Dragon had not one element, but all eight. What was even more frightening, was that Malefor could unlock Dragon Time. It was impossible, and had grave consequences.

Over a millennia of searching for their two dragons, they were never found, and seemed lost within time. Malefor, however, had reigned in terror over both dragon and human alike, and it was his darkened will that had caused the horrors of The Crusades. In desperation, rivals had become friends, and had succeeded in piercing the demon's heart with a holy blade. Malefor is now, and forever, banished.

However, time is still scarred, and scars can be reopened."

"Oh..oh my." Ember replied, unsure what to say as William finished, flipping to another page to see a dragon's head within a pentagon. The dragon was no doubt Malefor.

Did anyone ever realize Malefor's head looks like Satan's dragon head? I realized that the other day. Thank you for reading and supporting!