Disclaimer: Author claims no ownership of the following items: Endiness,
Winglies, Original Dragoons, Dragon Campaign and all other Legend of Dragoon trademarked pieces of the story you are about to read. This said,
make no attempt to sue, or said author may find herself inclined to
retaliate with a lawsuit of her own.
Author's Note: After viewing numerous fictions involving orignal characters, the Ferret has decided to make an attempt at one such story of her own. Ferret would like to point out that Breaking Twilight, the fiction you are about to read, is set in an A.U, or Alternate Universe, in which
the Dragon Campaign ended with the tragic deaths of all seven Dragoons, meaning that Dart Feld never came into being, nor did the Black Monster. Melbu Frahma remained undefeated, extending his iron clad rule of terror.
But little did he know that Soa, angered by this Wingly's attempts at becoming God, was working against him, striving to bring together seven of the most unlikely heroes to make one last valiant stand against the Wingly
oppressor and strike for the freedom of the world.
Lloyd: I find this greatly disturbing.
Ferret: glaring darkly at the screen before her You find everything I write disturbing. What else is new.
Dart: I'm not in this?
Ferret: For the fifteenth million bloody time, NO! Zieg and Rose died, so you could never be Zieg's son in this. Go away.
Zallia: Can I ask why you decided to drag me into this? I die don't I? I die in everything you put me in. I bet we all die.
Ferret: twitches If you will all excuse me, I'm attempting to write a serious, dramatic, epic fiction here, and YOU ARE ALL BEING DISTRACTING!
All: cower in fear of th awesome wrath of the Ferret.
Ferret: looks at the reader and sighs Bear with me, I implore you, this is bound to be rocky at the start. I don't write much serious fiction anymore, but these ideas keep flitting through my mind, refusing to go away. That said, I give you Chapter One,
Chapter One: Sins of Shadows
Vellweb, place of my unrest, place to which I was bound in death even as I had been bound in life, only I was little more than a simple shade. Vellweb was little like the beautiful city I remembered, blood stained the streets, and they had long since ceased to bury their dead properly, instead only holding makeshift ceremonies in which the bodies were cast into flame. The stench of burning flesh hovered over the city like a dark cloud. Humans had wrested control from the Winglies some years before, and constant battles had shattered the etheral beauty that had been my home for so long. The towers my comrades and I had dwelt in were used as a sort of command center, the hub of all activity for the resistance. How many years had passed since that final battle when the seven of us had fallen? How many lives had been destroyed, how many children ripped from the arms of sobbing mothers, traumatized by the sight of their father's being ruthlessly slaughtered before them? From bits of conversations overheard as I drifted through the halls I learned that there were few havens left for humans to turn to, and of these, Vellweb was the most saught after. They were struggling for survival, and losing the valianly fought battle. I think sometimes, that some of them must have glimpsed me as I wandered, awestruck by the world I found myself in, for I often heard whispered rumors of the "shadowed lady" in the halls. They seemed unafraid of the thought of a shade walking amongst them, and it seemed as if some might have welcomed it, encouraged perhaps, for their efforts in defending the city were doubled after I was first glimpsed.
I found myself wondering why I had been pulled back to this place, this bloody nightmare. While I had not been allowed to move from this world, to continue on my journey, I had drifted in a strange sort of oblivious sleep. The first stirrings of the calling had opened my eyes to the light for the first time in a very long time. At first I had raced through the towers, and then through the city itself, searching for my friends, my comrades, my love, thinking that surely, if I had been called back, so had they. I was to be disappointed, and disheartened, for of their return there was no sign. My heart sinking low, my spirit even lower I confined myself to the room that had once been my own, strangely unchanged through the years, as if someone had kept it safe, waiting for my return. I was aware, always, of a constant pull in some unknown direction, of strange whispers in the shadows. Fearing the worst from these, that it meant I was being called into Mayfil, or some other dreadful place, I ignored them, waiting, hoping that what had been lost to me would again return.
"Hiding in the shadows again Rose?" the voice was soft, but even in that softness it was one I would have recognized, and flown to no matter what the danger. It brought me forth from my darkened thoughts, and pulled my gaze towards the door. I dared not believe even what was there before my very eyes. Could it be? Had..it was! It was my beloved, returned to me even in death!
I was on my feet in an instant, and hurling myself into his waiting arms, which closed about my lithe form in a most comforting manner, "Zieg!" I cried, for all other words escaped me. The armor I had become so accustomed to him wearing was gone, replaced instead by a crimson tunic, belted at the waist, and white breeches, with tall leather boots. I buried my face against his chest and simply...cried. Such was my joy at having him with me again, "Oh Zieg, I feared I would never see you again. I feared that death, in its cruelty had separated us forever," I could have spent an eternity just like that, wrapped forever in his protective arms.
"Nothing could seperate us forever Rose, not even death," I felt on of his hands stroke along the back of my head, and down my neck as he lowered his head against mine, "I feared the worst, when we could not find you. I had hoped against all hope that somehow, somehow you had escaped, that you would endure where we had not, that you, of all of us, would find a way to stand against Melbu Frahma, to strike him down where we had failed."
Such pain there was in his voice, my heart ached for him, for all that he had suffered at my account. For once, my voice was soft, carrying none of the strength and hautiness it once held, "After I tried to save you, after you fell to Melbu Frahma, I tried to flee, thinking that I could put together another force, and make the strike again, but he saw me. I was weakened from the battle," dear God, the pain was still so fresh, in retelling the tale, I could feel the throbbing pain that had raced through my body only moments before the blackness had claimed me, "I never stood a chance Zieg. He struck me down even as I turned to face him."
He remained silent then, his arms tightening protectively about me, "Nothing will ever come between us again Rose, you have my word. But come! I have been away too long, and the others will be wondering what has kept me. Shirley has something she wishes to say, and she wishes to say it to all of us, and we were shy a comrade."
I lifted my face to meet his, and I fear my confusion must have been very evident, "Shirley? The others? Do you mean....do you mean that they are all here? Now? But why, why didn't I know, why didn't I feel them here? Why..."
"Time enough for questions after Shirley's said her piece," he quipped, sweeping me up into his arms, "And you were, I think, a little far gone. I had been standing there for well on an hour before I spoke Dearest One, and you never batted an eye."
They were gathered in what had been in our time, and it seemed, still was, the meeting chamber of the defense tower, all five of them, gathered about that great table like a pack of generals planning war. All eyes turned to us as we entered, Zieg and I, and I felt that damnable flush creeping into my cheeks as Kanzas snickered behind his hand. Shirley silenced him with a look, she had always been good at that, the wisest, and kindest of us all. She sat directly to the left of Belzac, the great towering mountain of muscle and bone that had once been the earth Dragoon. To his right sat Syuveil, the Jade, who looked as if he had only recently been roused from his sleep, a smudge of ink across his right cheek. I had to smile, for how many times had I come across him in the same state? Some things never changed. To Syuveil's right sat Damia, the youngest of us all, who had long feigned childlike innocence, often making us laugh in times of great peril and darkness. Kanzas sat to Shirley's left, glowering as he always had. Zieg and I moved to take our respective seats and we all waited, patiently, for Shirley to speak.
She was beautiful, but then, she always had been, so peaceful, even when the rest of us had fallen into chaos. It was little wonder Kanzas loved her, but Shirley had eyes only for Belzac. Like Zieg, her Dragoon armor was gone, and for the first time in all the years I had known her, she looked...weary. The pale rose shirt had billowing sleeves, and was cinched tight at the waist by a silver sash. To this she wore white breeches, as my Zieg did, but her boots were pale rose, just like the shirt. She waited a few more moments, as if composing herself, and then she began to speak.
"I am certain that you all have felt the stirrings of the calling. You all have heard the whispered voices, and perhaps glimpsed shadowed people passing close to you. The very fact that we have all been called to this place once again should denote something. I believe I may know what," and here, she paused again, her gaze passing over each of us in turn. She gave a little nod, as if to herself, and then continued, "Seventy five years have passed since that tragic day in which each of us fell, since the end of the Dragon Campaign. Seventy five years since the last dragon walked the earth. For three quarters of a century we have lain in a strange sort of oblivious sleep, and yet now, now we have been reawoken. Can any of you guess why?"
It was Damia who spoke, her eyes shimmering with a strange sort of gleaming hope, "The dragons," two words, two simple words but spoken with the weight of thousands. Kanzas snorted and shook his head, his arms folding over his chest. Even Syuveil and Belzac looked a little disbelieving.
"The Dragons," Shirley continued with a nod, "Yes. They are stirring, reawakening as we have. Soa grows tired of Melbu Frahma's insitance of the Godlike worship of the Winglies, and Soa's will will be done, this you all know. So the dragons are being reborn, summoned forth to chose the weilders of the Spirits once again."
"So they can die just like we did? Rush in unprepared and die?! Shirley, have you gone mad, we can't let this happen, we can't let seven more rush to their deaths! Look at us, we're shades, we're dead. Our lives were for nothing!" every gaze snapped towards Kanzas, who had risen so suddenly that his chair toppled over backwards with a crash. I felt a flash of the old anger come back, and it was I, not Shirley, who answered his outburst.
"Open your eyes you fool! You say our lives were for nothing? Look around you. Who controls this ciy now? Humans! Who defends its walls? Humans! They are fighting back, the human race is trying to fight back, to defend itself, but they are no match for Wingly magic. They -need- the Dragoons, to lead them, to rally them to a single purpose. I have watched from these towers for months, lived with the stench of burning flesh as they send the souls of their dead to eternal rest. I see them die every day defending this city from the Winglies. Their numbers are few, and getting fewer, but think of this. Vellweb has not fallen yet," perhaps the same hope that glimmered in Damia's eyes, glimmered in my own, and as I looked out across my comrades, as Kanzas fell into sulking silence I saw a strange sort of new respect shining in the eyes of each of them, "What do we do Shirley?"
"We must seek them out, those who are to be our successors, seek them out one by one and explain to them the cause. Some of them will likely need convincing, some of them will not believe, and still others will fear for what might happen. But they must be made to understand. They must see that their lives are needed in this, that they are needed, that all of human kind rests upon their shoulders, ready to rally behind them at a word. And we must make it clear to them that we are here at their call, to aid them should they need it. We cannot help them over much, but we can offer counsel, and that....that is what we must do."
The seven of us fell into silence them, gazing at on another across the table, the weight of Shirley's words settling fully upon our shoulders. Could we do what she was suggesting? Could the would be Dragoons be located? And if they were, it seemed none of us possessed the Dragoon spirits any longer, how then, would these unlucky seven be made to believe. But a thought occured to me. If the dragons were being reborn, did that mean that the spirits were being recreated?
Winglies, Original Dragoons, Dragon Campaign and all other Legend of Dragoon trademarked pieces of the story you are about to read. This said,
make no attempt to sue, or said author may find herself inclined to
retaliate with a lawsuit of her own.
Author's Note: After viewing numerous fictions involving orignal characters, the Ferret has decided to make an attempt at one such story of her own. Ferret would like to point out that Breaking Twilight, the fiction you are about to read, is set in an A.U, or Alternate Universe, in which
the Dragon Campaign ended with the tragic deaths of all seven Dragoons, meaning that Dart Feld never came into being, nor did the Black Monster. Melbu Frahma remained undefeated, extending his iron clad rule of terror.
But little did he know that Soa, angered by this Wingly's attempts at becoming God, was working against him, striving to bring together seven of the most unlikely heroes to make one last valiant stand against the Wingly
oppressor and strike for the freedom of the world.
Lloyd: I find this greatly disturbing.
Ferret: glaring darkly at the screen before her You find everything I write disturbing. What else is new.
Dart: I'm not in this?
Ferret: For the fifteenth million bloody time, NO! Zieg and Rose died, so you could never be Zieg's son in this. Go away.
Zallia: Can I ask why you decided to drag me into this? I die don't I? I die in everything you put me in. I bet we all die.
Ferret: twitches If you will all excuse me, I'm attempting to write a serious, dramatic, epic fiction here, and YOU ARE ALL BEING DISTRACTING!
All: cower in fear of th awesome wrath of the Ferret.
Ferret: looks at the reader and sighs Bear with me, I implore you, this is bound to be rocky at the start. I don't write much serious fiction anymore, but these ideas keep flitting through my mind, refusing to go away. That said, I give you Chapter One,
Chapter One: Sins of Shadows
Vellweb, place of my unrest, place to which I was bound in death even as I had been bound in life, only I was little more than a simple shade. Vellweb was little like the beautiful city I remembered, blood stained the streets, and they had long since ceased to bury their dead properly, instead only holding makeshift ceremonies in which the bodies were cast into flame. The stench of burning flesh hovered over the city like a dark cloud. Humans had wrested control from the Winglies some years before, and constant battles had shattered the etheral beauty that had been my home for so long. The towers my comrades and I had dwelt in were used as a sort of command center, the hub of all activity for the resistance. How many years had passed since that final battle when the seven of us had fallen? How many lives had been destroyed, how many children ripped from the arms of sobbing mothers, traumatized by the sight of their father's being ruthlessly slaughtered before them? From bits of conversations overheard as I drifted through the halls I learned that there were few havens left for humans to turn to, and of these, Vellweb was the most saught after. They were struggling for survival, and losing the valianly fought battle. I think sometimes, that some of them must have glimpsed me as I wandered, awestruck by the world I found myself in, for I often heard whispered rumors of the "shadowed lady" in the halls. They seemed unafraid of the thought of a shade walking amongst them, and it seemed as if some might have welcomed it, encouraged perhaps, for their efforts in defending the city were doubled after I was first glimpsed.
I found myself wondering why I had been pulled back to this place, this bloody nightmare. While I had not been allowed to move from this world, to continue on my journey, I had drifted in a strange sort of oblivious sleep. The first stirrings of the calling had opened my eyes to the light for the first time in a very long time. At first I had raced through the towers, and then through the city itself, searching for my friends, my comrades, my love, thinking that surely, if I had been called back, so had they. I was to be disappointed, and disheartened, for of their return there was no sign. My heart sinking low, my spirit even lower I confined myself to the room that had once been my own, strangely unchanged through the years, as if someone had kept it safe, waiting for my return. I was aware, always, of a constant pull in some unknown direction, of strange whispers in the shadows. Fearing the worst from these, that it meant I was being called into Mayfil, or some other dreadful place, I ignored them, waiting, hoping that what had been lost to me would again return.
"Hiding in the shadows again Rose?" the voice was soft, but even in that softness it was one I would have recognized, and flown to no matter what the danger. It brought me forth from my darkened thoughts, and pulled my gaze towards the door. I dared not believe even what was there before my very eyes. Could it be? Had..it was! It was my beloved, returned to me even in death!
I was on my feet in an instant, and hurling myself into his waiting arms, which closed about my lithe form in a most comforting manner, "Zieg!" I cried, for all other words escaped me. The armor I had become so accustomed to him wearing was gone, replaced instead by a crimson tunic, belted at the waist, and white breeches, with tall leather boots. I buried my face against his chest and simply...cried. Such was my joy at having him with me again, "Oh Zieg, I feared I would never see you again. I feared that death, in its cruelty had separated us forever," I could have spent an eternity just like that, wrapped forever in his protective arms.
"Nothing could seperate us forever Rose, not even death," I felt on of his hands stroke along the back of my head, and down my neck as he lowered his head against mine, "I feared the worst, when we could not find you. I had hoped against all hope that somehow, somehow you had escaped, that you would endure where we had not, that you, of all of us, would find a way to stand against Melbu Frahma, to strike him down where we had failed."
Such pain there was in his voice, my heart ached for him, for all that he had suffered at my account. For once, my voice was soft, carrying none of the strength and hautiness it once held, "After I tried to save you, after you fell to Melbu Frahma, I tried to flee, thinking that I could put together another force, and make the strike again, but he saw me. I was weakened from the battle," dear God, the pain was still so fresh, in retelling the tale, I could feel the throbbing pain that had raced through my body only moments before the blackness had claimed me, "I never stood a chance Zieg. He struck me down even as I turned to face him."
He remained silent then, his arms tightening protectively about me, "Nothing will ever come between us again Rose, you have my word. But come! I have been away too long, and the others will be wondering what has kept me. Shirley has something she wishes to say, and she wishes to say it to all of us, and we were shy a comrade."
I lifted my face to meet his, and I fear my confusion must have been very evident, "Shirley? The others? Do you mean....do you mean that they are all here? Now? But why, why didn't I know, why didn't I feel them here? Why..."
"Time enough for questions after Shirley's said her piece," he quipped, sweeping me up into his arms, "And you were, I think, a little far gone. I had been standing there for well on an hour before I spoke Dearest One, and you never batted an eye."
They were gathered in what had been in our time, and it seemed, still was, the meeting chamber of the defense tower, all five of them, gathered about that great table like a pack of generals planning war. All eyes turned to us as we entered, Zieg and I, and I felt that damnable flush creeping into my cheeks as Kanzas snickered behind his hand. Shirley silenced him with a look, she had always been good at that, the wisest, and kindest of us all. She sat directly to the left of Belzac, the great towering mountain of muscle and bone that had once been the earth Dragoon. To his right sat Syuveil, the Jade, who looked as if he had only recently been roused from his sleep, a smudge of ink across his right cheek. I had to smile, for how many times had I come across him in the same state? Some things never changed. To Syuveil's right sat Damia, the youngest of us all, who had long feigned childlike innocence, often making us laugh in times of great peril and darkness. Kanzas sat to Shirley's left, glowering as he always had. Zieg and I moved to take our respective seats and we all waited, patiently, for Shirley to speak.
She was beautiful, but then, she always had been, so peaceful, even when the rest of us had fallen into chaos. It was little wonder Kanzas loved her, but Shirley had eyes only for Belzac. Like Zieg, her Dragoon armor was gone, and for the first time in all the years I had known her, she looked...weary. The pale rose shirt had billowing sleeves, and was cinched tight at the waist by a silver sash. To this she wore white breeches, as my Zieg did, but her boots were pale rose, just like the shirt. She waited a few more moments, as if composing herself, and then she began to speak.
"I am certain that you all have felt the stirrings of the calling. You all have heard the whispered voices, and perhaps glimpsed shadowed people passing close to you. The very fact that we have all been called to this place once again should denote something. I believe I may know what," and here, she paused again, her gaze passing over each of us in turn. She gave a little nod, as if to herself, and then continued, "Seventy five years have passed since that tragic day in which each of us fell, since the end of the Dragon Campaign. Seventy five years since the last dragon walked the earth. For three quarters of a century we have lain in a strange sort of oblivious sleep, and yet now, now we have been reawoken. Can any of you guess why?"
It was Damia who spoke, her eyes shimmering with a strange sort of gleaming hope, "The dragons," two words, two simple words but spoken with the weight of thousands. Kanzas snorted and shook his head, his arms folding over his chest. Even Syuveil and Belzac looked a little disbelieving.
"The Dragons," Shirley continued with a nod, "Yes. They are stirring, reawakening as we have. Soa grows tired of Melbu Frahma's insitance of the Godlike worship of the Winglies, and Soa's will will be done, this you all know. So the dragons are being reborn, summoned forth to chose the weilders of the Spirits once again."
"So they can die just like we did? Rush in unprepared and die?! Shirley, have you gone mad, we can't let this happen, we can't let seven more rush to their deaths! Look at us, we're shades, we're dead. Our lives were for nothing!" every gaze snapped towards Kanzas, who had risen so suddenly that his chair toppled over backwards with a crash. I felt a flash of the old anger come back, and it was I, not Shirley, who answered his outburst.
"Open your eyes you fool! You say our lives were for nothing? Look around you. Who controls this ciy now? Humans! Who defends its walls? Humans! They are fighting back, the human race is trying to fight back, to defend itself, but they are no match for Wingly magic. They -need- the Dragoons, to lead them, to rally them to a single purpose. I have watched from these towers for months, lived with the stench of burning flesh as they send the souls of their dead to eternal rest. I see them die every day defending this city from the Winglies. Their numbers are few, and getting fewer, but think of this. Vellweb has not fallen yet," perhaps the same hope that glimmered in Damia's eyes, glimmered in my own, and as I looked out across my comrades, as Kanzas fell into sulking silence I saw a strange sort of new respect shining in the eyes of each of them, "What do we do Shirley?"
"We must seek them out, those who are to be our successors, seek them out one by one and explain to them the cause. Some of them will likely need convincing, some of them will not believe, and still others will fear for what might happen. But they must be made to understand. They must see that their lives are needed in this, that they are needed, that all of human kind rests upon their shoulders, ready to rally behind them at a word. And we must make it clear to them that we are here at their call, to aid them should they need it. We cannot help them over much, but we can offer counsel, and that....that is what we must do."
The seven of us fell into silence them, gazing at on another across the table, the weight of Shirley's words settling fully upon our shoulders. Could we do what she was suggesting? Could the would be Dragoons be located? And if they were, it seemed none of us possessed the Dragoon spirits any longer, how then, would these unlucky seven be made to believe. But a thought occured to me. If the dragons were being reborn, did that mean that the spirits were being recreated?