The Resurrection

I tumble forward and fall onto the hard stone floors. I sit up and lean back. Astarael was my best friend, and we had awoken the Deathsaurer. I bury my head in my knees.

I'm sorry, Van. I'm sorry, Shadow. I'm sorry, Sam and Emperor Rudolph and Astarael. My fault, my fault, my fault... The words run through my head like an awful litany.

~You have passed and survived. But we must tell you. It was not your fault. The Deathsaurer would have awoken anyway. You were just the first prey to come.~

I look up and survey the room for the first time. A stone pedestal stands in the center. A pane of the black stone is above it. A ray of sun shines through the blackness, falling onto the pedestal.

I slowly stand up and wearily make my way to the pedestal. A statue of a dragon rests on top of it. I look at the statue and growl in fustration. What do I do with it?

Raven. "Apollyon?"Duh. Twist it. "Uh, thanks." I twist the statue. The pedestal splits open and a small piece of paper falls out. I pick it up. It's just more zoidian writing!Raven, see the column?See the runes? Put the paper in a slot on the back side.

I comply and stick the paper in the slot, and step back. The runes glow a myriad of colors, and shift and spin until I can read them.

Bloodlines traced upon the ground,

Ere' pawprints break our beaten paths,

Where numbers thin, yet wills run strong,

By night we win man's brutal wrath,

Man thriving pon' our sad bloodbaths,

Lost native will, the land once hath...

Bring pity back into our dark,

Shed light upon your brutal casts,

And try to find that brutal spark,

That brought your many kin afore,

To take our kind, if nothing more,

To man the arc of history,

To shed our deathwinds pon' it's masts...

Look blindly pon' these brutal casts...

Your fire bringing to the air,

Your presence of the land affirmed,

Our howls, weak, reeking despair,

Our callings dead upon your lead,

Your bitter, unforgiving germ...

Pon' chain and rope and whip we've squirmed...

For many lives of newborn pup,

With lasting breath, their heads raise up,

Their spirits weep their callings lost,

Their parents' blood upon the grass,

The hunger grows, time comes to pass,

They lay their pain against the dark,

Though moon and stars won't find their bark,

Until man's will comes to their crest,

They finally put their souls to rest...

To coexist the native will,

Adapt and be one with the trees,

To follow scent and run the breeze,

To love the pack, to share it's will,

To care for kin, to bring down kill,

To bring up pups, improve our skill,

To nurture growth, have mouths to fill,

To play and fight and just despite,

What we succumb unto your might,

Our shortened, bitter, hellish life,

Their anger thins us like a knife,

Until they grieve their unjust strife,

Our loss in history not hushed...

Finding the plains of prey forgone,

We search the instincts of our kind,

But strange new prey for soul to spawn,

Has ruined our fragile way of mind,

Man's blame to be our final find...



To hide and pounce ere' sib or prey,

To hunt, to bay ere' break of day,

To trust our kin, feel warmth of May,

Catch leaves of fall, make beds of snow,

Have summer winds to shed our coats,

To lap from streams' eternal flow,

Feel winter winds' eternal blow...



To birth new life, give it a home,

Fell mother's tongue as nature's comb,

To howl and bay, ere' break of day,

Unto the night's eternal dome...

Of old we roamed about the land,

To search the breeze upon the trees,

To search the lake's familiar sand,

To coexist the native will,

Until one day into our life,

The white man came to hate and kill,

To thin our numbers like a knife...

We exist still, upon' the night,

Though still does hate, our unjust plight,

Still thrives the will, though, just despite,

Upon our blood, the wolves of yore',

Their longings shared forevermore,

To live the life, upon man's knife,

Not for revenge or settled score,

To be the wolf, forevermore...



With essence bright, where our souls burn,

Upon the night, we only yearn...

To be the wolf, forevermore...

Welcome to Forgotten Dreams.

A golden light gathers on the far side of the room. I squint, trying to make out the shape inside. The shape grows more solid, and falls out with a loud thump. The light disappears. I rush over to the still form and turn it over. It's Astarael! She opens her eyes and looks up.

"Hey, Dragon. Knew you were coming." I smile, exhilarated at having her back. "Yep, Wolf." She sits up and hugs me. "So, are the others here?" I nod. She swings to her feet, still with her natural grace. "Let's go, then."

She pulls me up and we plunge through the black wall. Shadowrage looks up. *Astarael! * He rushes over, and knocks her down. *Oops, sorry. * She leaps up and hugs him. "I missed you, Rage." "The others are outside."

We turn and walk out into the sunrise. Liger and Fury become hysterical with joy, so we have to wait for five hours until they calm down. Finally, we set off.