"We did nothing, the Huntsclan was decimated weeks before your family was found dead. Shortly before that, I began to understand the way I was thinking had become twisted by their teachings. I never did anything."
He moved closer to her face. "Then who did?" As these words crossed his lips, a barrier within his mind broke under the intense pressure. Flashes of memory ran through his head as he moved back to cower in the corner.
(The word, dark, lay written in blood next to his mother.)
("The Dark Dragon." his grandfather wheezed before starting to cough up blood.)
(Red tinged claws grasping him, red claws the belonged to...)
Jake threw his head back and screamed with twelve years worth of repressed anger and guilt. "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS YOU OVERGROWN WORM! You used my anguish and vulnerability to forge me into a weapon. Now that weapon is turned towards you."
Jake fell to the ground shaking. His body curled up on itself. He scrunched in on himself. He cried tears that had gone unwept for more than a decade. Tears of loss and of pain. Tears that helped to heal the hatred in his soul. He once again regained his senses in the arms of another.
Rose sat with his head in her lap. She was gently sroking his face as he trembled in horror at what he had become. "It's all right Jake, Shh, I'm right here." His ears heard Rose's voice. His heart could feel the presence of his family.
He was no longer Blood, scourge of the Dragon War.
He was Jake Long, the American Dragon.