What odd structures…
The lone draconian known as Mikael trudged through the cold ruins of Thabes. Or what used to be Thabes. Truthfully, he had no idea as to whether or not it could even be considered the ancient city of legend anymore. The ruins were filled with sharp angles and quadratic structures made of strange blue stone. They were unlike anything he had ever seen before. Indeed, it was almost as if they were constructed by someone, or something, inhuman.
Still, Mikael was adamant on finding a cure for his condition. He could feel the rage clawing at the edge of his mind. The same degeneration that claimed the dragons millennia ago, and those who were unlucky enough to be within Khadein was beginning to affect him. Such bestial anger was easily snuffed out, but it was only a matter of time before it grew and overwhelmed his conscious mind.
With that in mind, Mikael trudged onward through the timeless ruins. His sense of direction felt odd somehow; with the way the walls and buildings were shaped, sound traveled strangely. If a pebble fell down somewhere, he would be able to hear it for a great distance before it stopped echoing. Perhaps it was because of that that he was able to hear the commotion.
"What in the name of…?" He murmured, hearing the sound of metal scraping against rocks. He continued forward, unperturbed by the sounds. He had been through much already. A few battles with whatever was making the noise would not be an issue.
Mikael passed through several more buildings, attuned to the sound of battle and-
Was that a roar?
It echoed across the blue stone and shot into the sky, as if piercing the air itself. If Mikael was interested before, he was downright intrigued after that sound. He marched onward, his feet scraping against the stone floor as he moved. He had his tome handy, and the staff on his back should it come to that.
Mikael turned a corner-
A massive beast sped past him. The air shifted with its passing, another roar let loose from its maw as it wrestled with something. It smashed into a building, sending bits of blue rock and dust everywhere. Mikael held his cloak up, shielding his eyes from the dust cloud that engulfed him. Once the dust had settled, he looked up.
His eyes could barely comprehend at the creature's majesty.
It was a large dragon, around the size of a house. Two pairs of bright feathered wings trailed from its back, along with two pairs of glowing green eyes. A large mouth filled with sharp teeth jutted from its face, along with two forward curved horns that adorned its head. Its scales were a strange color; its underbelly was a pale-yellow, while the rest of its body grew to become a darker shade. The dragon almost seemed to glow in the little light available.
Mikael saw what it was wrestling with: Several purple-skinned monstrosities. He felt a primal growl bubble up from his throat. The draconian was familiar with them; they were disgusting creatures, born of a dark insect that infested a body. Mikael saw the horned dragon fight with the creatures, swinging them about as if they weighed nothing. Despite that, however, the monsters, the Risen, refused to cease their onslaught. The draconian decided to take matters into his own hands.
He remembered his people's worship of the Divine Dragons of old. While the dragon in front of him was different from the descriptions he read millennia ago, as long as the poor beast was not degenerated, he would help it. It was owed that amount of decency, at least.
A well-timed Arcfire burned a Risen to ashes, announcing his presence. Mikael saw the dragon turn to him for a moment, scanning him with its four eyes, before going back to ripping and tearing the purple monsters off of itself.
With himself now having the Risen's attention, Mikael battled with ferocity he knew he was capable of but still hadn't grown used to. An Arcfire to one Risen's face allowed another to get the jump on him, but only for a moment before his clawed hand swiped across the purple undead's face. His mouth snapped with anticipation, as if no long under his control.
The dragon he fought alongside was apparently through playing around, as it slammed its massive hands against the stone road. In an almost uncanny way, it resembled Garland in that moment. Mikael shuffled that thought to the side as he was nearly knocked off his feet. He swerved his head around, seeing a purple glow fester inside the dragon's mouth. Mikael sprang backwards, forcing his body behind the dragon as it opened its mouth.
A gust of iridescent fire spewed forth from its maw, engulfing the Risen in flames. Within moments, the Risen were nothing but piles of ash that soon disappeared into the wind. With that, Mikael and the dragon were alone.
"Insolent creatures…" Mikael growled. "Riddled with dark magic. It is a wonder they can perform any task at all," Mikael blinked, rubbing at his muzzle and closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and looked to the dragon.
It stood up on its hind legs, staring down at him curiously.
"My apologies; that was rather crass of me," Mikael bowed. "My name is Mikael. Can you understand me?"
"You look funny," A voice came from the dragon, though its mouth did not move. Not unlike his own. "All scaly and stuff, but you're shaped like a person. How does that work? I had to use this sparkly stone in my hand to become like this."
If Mikael's face could show emotion, it would've been incredibly unamused. "…That is because you are a manakete, I would assume. I am not a manakete."
"Mana-kete?" The dragon enunciated. Its – well, a female voice came from it, and referring to her as an 'it' seemed incredibly disrespectful, once he gave it some thought – Her head tilted. "Huh. Is that what I am? It sounds right."
"I apologize for my rudeness, dragon," Mikael rumbled. "But could you please speak to me in your human form? It is rather uncomfortable for me to talk to you when you stare down at me like that."
"Oh. Well, alright. Hang on…" The dragon nodded, curling into a ball. If Mikael could raise a brow, he would. He'd never seen a manakete transform back into its human form before. They were incredibly rare, even in his time. They attained a sort of mythical status. He theorized that they'd be worshipped as true gods before long, with the only thing keeping that from happening being the occasional visit from them. In the current time, well, he knew humanity worshipped dragons, so that was a theory of his proven correct.
Of course, it was that near-mythical status that led Garland down her path of insanity.
In an instant, the dragon was cloaked in light, nearly blinding Mikael as he shielded his eyes from the display. For a moment, it felt as if the light was blistering his scales, perhaps even bleaching the remaining stone buildings that surrounded them, until it finally disappeared as quickly as it came. When Mikael opened his eyes, he beheld a short girl, garbed in a dark coat with shoulder length green hair, and glittering emerald eyes.
"Ah, that's better!" The girl stretched. "That was fun! I mean, I became a giant monster for a while, and everything seemed so much more alive, but I'm glad I'm back this way. Easier to hold stuff, too."
To say Mikael was flabbergasted by the casualness of the manakete before him would be an understatement. True, he had never met one before, but he never imagined one to be so… air-headed.
"Now that that is out of the way, could you tell me your name?" The dragon man asked. "If it helps, my name is Mikael."
"I'm Morgan!" The manakete replied cheerfully, her arms behind her back. "I guess I should thank you for helping me, huh? Well, thanks a lot! I, uh, don't actually know how I got here. Do you know where we are?"
"Locals call this place the 'Ruins of Time', young Morgan," Mikael explained, putting his tome away. "Although in my time, this place was called Thabes. I do not know where these strange ruins came from. They were not here before I- Hmm. Let us just say that they appear to be a new addition."
"Uh, okay, wow. I'm…" Morgan frowned, a worried expression upon her youthful face. "The last thing I remember was travelling with my father. We were… He was showing me something, and then the next thing I know, I'm here, and those things were trying to take me somewhere."
"Is that so?" Mikael hummed, tapping his scaly chin. "What else can you remember?"
"Uh," Morgan clutched at her head. "I d-don't- I can't- What's going on? Why can't I-? This is so weird. I can remember my father's face, his name, everything, but when I try to think about my mother, or anything else I just-!" Morgan looked as if she was about to collapse. Mikael grabbed her by the shoulder and held her up. "M-Mr. Dragon Man I don't-!"
"Stop," Mikael ordered. "My apologies, Morgan. I did not expect my question to have such an effect on you. Please, do not force it. I believe you will only hurt yourself if you try for much longer."
"O-Okay," Morgan let out a shuddering breath. "Okay. I-I'm fine now. But why can't I-?"
"Let us not speak of this more here," Mikael interrupted. "I have a tent, away from these frozen ruins. We can speak more there, young Morgan."
Morgan closed her eyes, nodding her head. Mikael caught a glimpse of her pointed ears as she did so. "Alright. You saved me, so I'll do what you say."
Mikael kept a close eye on the amnesiac manakete, making sure she didn't falter or fall behind as they left the ruins behind them.
Mikael had done well for himself, considering the hideousness of his visage. It was difficult to hide such distinctive and frightening features, but he managed; a black cloak to hide his oddly shaped head and face, and large gloves for his claws. With a face mask to shield his snout, only people who looked closely would see his strangeness.
With that, he was able to procure supplies for his long journeys across the barbarian country of Regna Ferox. He paid for such amenities with his powerful magic; using his staff to heal the sick and wounded being the largest source of income. He even had the means to buy a stead and small wagon, which made travel easier across the vast tundra.
The two dragons arrived at his small outpost: a modest tent, with his horse and wagon nearby. The horse seemed preoccupied eating the shortgrass that surrounded his camp. From their distance, they could see the entirety of the Ruins of Time, jutting out of the tundra plains. They looked just as unnatural from a distance as they did when they were within its walls.
"Uh, nice place you got here," Morgan complimented awkwardly. "All nice and cozy, in all the right places."
"Thank you," Mikael grunted. "Would you like to come in? We could talk more inside."
Morgan shivered, rubbing her shoulders. Perhaps her coat wasn't the best at keeping the cold out. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great."
The draconian moved the tent-flap, revealing the modest accommodations within. Instruments used for experiments, mostly on himself, were laid out on a wolf pelt, with a smaller gathering of pelts used for bedding. Mikael decided to skimp out on real furniture; he had already been pushing his disguise when he acquired his other items, and without the illusory effects of higher-tier Light magic, he didn't want to risk it. Besides, he found his current amenities more than satisfactory.
"Please, have a seat. Clear your mind." Mikael said, silently putting away his strange magical instruments. "Tell me, do you remember your father's name? You spoke of him rather fondly."
Morgan let out a deep breath, nearly collapsing on the pelt she decided to sit upon. Rubbing one eye, she answered: "Oh, his name is Robin. You know, like the bird? I don't think he could turn into a giant monster like me, though, so I must've gotten that from my mother. He's an amazing tactician, never lost a battle, even if I can't remember the names of them." Morgan looked up, hope in her green eyes. "Do you know him? I don't know how we got separated but he must be worried sick!"
Mikael had indeed heard the name 'Robin'. Scarce few on the continent hadn't; the shadowy Grandmaster Tactician of Ylisse was practically a household name in all but the most isolated communities. They said he almost single handedly ended the previous war with his strategies, although the Prince of Ylisse, Chrom, was more often than not credited with ending the war himself.
If the child in front of him was a half-manakete, as was evidenced, then the Grandmaster Tactician was a lucky man. There was only one problem, however.
"…I have heard that name upon the wind, yes," Mikael replied slowly, finishing putting his instruments away and sitting cross-legged across from the green-haired half-manakete. "The Grandmaster Tactician of Ylisse is his title. I am afraid to say, though, that he is across the long sea, fighting in a war against invaders. And, unfortunately, there are precious few ways to cross the ocean at the moment."
Morgan visibly deflated at that. Mikael's chest tightened at seeing such a heartbroken expression on the young girl's face. "Oh… that's… well, at least I know where he is now. But, wait, how did I get here, if he's across the ocean? What happened to me?"
Mikael shook his head. "I do not know, young Morgan. Had I the answers, I would have told you. Those ruins were steeped in mystery, and I cannot explain whatever may have happened within."
Morgan sighed, messaging her temples. Her eyes closed tightly as she stayed silent. Truthfully, Mikael pitied the young girl. He knew what it was like to have something taken, with no rhyme or reason. He didn't know how she got there or why she was stricken with amnesia, but he would not leave her in the cold of northwest Ferox. That would be cruel.
"What should I do now?" Morgan asked suddenly, her eyes open and watery. "I don't- I don't have anywhere to go! I can't even remember my mother's name, and it's- Why can't I remember her? I feel like she was just as important to me as father but I-!"
"Peace, young Morgan." Mikael held his clawed hand up. "You may stay with me for a while, should that please you. Your father will not be across the sea forever; he shall return one day, surely. This continent is his home, and I doubt he would abandon it."
"…are you sure?" Morgan asked quietly. "You already saved me, and I have nothing to pay you back with. I know I can turn into a giant monster and all, but…"
"Think nothing of it," Mikael interrupted. "Mine has been a lonely existence for quite some time now; I would not mind a travelling companion for these next few weeks."
"You're a traveler, huh?" Morgan perked up, a small shine returning to her expression. "People aren't put off by your face?"
"First of all, Morgan, that was incredibly rude," Mikael sighed. "Had I the means to change it, I would have done away with this horrific façade long ago. Alas, with every day that passes I fear this affliction is permanent. Secondly, I do not enter towns and cities like this. That would be a poor way to commit suicide. I hide myself behind this cloak and mask."
"Oh, well, I'm sorry," Morgan shrank, her shoulders slumping. "For what it's worth, I think you look cool. I think it'd be cruel for you to die just because people don't like the way you look."
"To their credit, I do not have a very friendly-looking visage," Mikael replied. "That is why I am traveling, by the way; to fix it, cure it, what have you. This body is wrong, and I can feel its base instincts clawing away at the back of my mind. Were I to stay like this forever, eventually, I would turn into nothing but an animal."
Morgan's face grew pale at that. "Yeah, I can see why you'd wanna get rid of it, then. Will I… Could that happen to me? I'm all dragon-like too. And my mother was, as well. Will we…?"
"I am no true dragon, and I cannot claim to know what it is like for you or your mother," Mikael explained, scratching his scaly chin. "Do not let that worry you, however; as far as I am aware, this insanity, this degeneration only affects the most reckless of dragons, those who wantonly use their powers. It could well take thousands of years and can be prevented with sparing usage of your power."
"Oh, thank goodness," Morgan let out a breath, placing a gloved hand against her chest. "I mean, not that I'm going to use that power a lot, but it felt pretty good when I used it! But I'd rather, you know, keep my brain and all that. I can't become a good tactician if I start drooling everywhere!"
"Like your father?"
"Yup!" Morgan answered cheerfully, her prior thoughts apparently forgotten. "That's one thing I remember; studying with him to become a great tactician! I think that's what we were doing when he… when I appeared in those ruins."
"Fascinating…" Mikael mumbled, thinking for a moment. "In any case, young Morgan, you may travel with me, should you wish it. I will warn you, however. After we pack up here, we will hasten to the south, to where the country of Altea used to be."
"'Altea'?" Morgan's brow quirked. "What's that?"
"An ancient civilization by your standards. By most people's standards, I imagine." Mikael shook his head. "It is not something that is important, though. What matters is that I have heard rumors. Rumors of power held within the ancient halls of the old royal tomb. My memories of my life before this have become murky as of late, but I can still remember that such rumors were commonplace where I came from. If possible, I wish to use this power to cure myself, and if I cannot, then find some other use for it."
"You're not gonna go full megalomaniacal tyrant, are you?" Morgan asked, semi-seriously. "That's the kind of thing I think of when you start talking about power and stuff like that."
"Gods, no," Mikael refuted. "I have no use for conquering, even if this powers turn out to be something tangible. I doubt it would be, either way. The way the locals near the wall speak of it is… reverent. As if it is something granted by the gods rather than something held within the royal family."
Morgan stared at the draconian for a few moments, green eyes studying his every move. Then she smiled. "Alright. I guess I don't have anything better to do at the moment, do I? Might as well come with you. Who knows, you could use a dragon tactician on your travels!"
If Mikael could smile back, he would have. "Heh. Perhaps I could."
The way to where the ancient realm of Altea used to be was easily the least populated part of both Ferox and Plegia. Even the part of the Longfort that covered that area was sparsely manned, with only a skeleton crew keeping an eye on the border. This made it easy for the two travelers to make their way through.
The biting cold of western Ferox gave way to the blistering heat of the Plegian Badlands. Still, the horse and wagon Mikael purchased were hardy, as was all Feroxi stock. It took weeks of asking around small villages around the border, dreary places half-dead yet somehow still clinging to life, for him to eventually discern the location of the old royal castle. Had he an older map, he might've found it, but he didn't and neither could he remember where it had stood in his time.
With perseverance, however, he rediscovered it. The castle was half-buried in the sand, like a monolith to the entire Altean civilization itself. Sand-blasted rock where a grand cathedral once stood gave him a sense of longing. The land there had been beautiful once. Silicate was once dirt, with trees and rivers. And yet, all that remained after the Schism was the broken desert before him.
The entrance to the tomb looked more like the maw of a giant beast. Judging by the strangely angular shapes of the rock surrounding it, there had been a door there once. It was any wonder how people hadn't found it yet. Then again, even treasure hunters avoided Altea. Mikael growled as he descended into darkness once more. It wasn't as all-consuming and alive as it had been in Khadein, but it was suffocating nonetheless. He cast a small Light spell, sending the shadows back.
To think the civilizations of the present have forgotten such wondrous arts.
"Oh, that's so cool," The young woman who stood beside him gasped, looking at the small ball of light following them with sparkles in her green eyes. "Father always wanted to use light magic. We tried and tried and tried but nothing came of it. Kinda… sad really."
Mikael snorted. "You told me that your memories of your father were clouded, young Morgan."
"I mean, yeah, but I can still remember some things. I said foggy, not completely gone, you know." Morgan replied, peering into the darkness. "Also, this may be a bit embarrassing but… what are we here for again?
Mikael looked to the young half-manakete, unamused. "We spoke of it at length on our journey. How can you not remember?"
Morgan smiled, running a hand through her green hair. "I think that might have something to do with what I did a while ago. Heh. I, uh, tried to remember my mother by bashing my head against a post. It didn't really work out."
"I should think not! What insanity possessed you to do something so boneheaded!?" Mikael stared at the young manakete, eyes as wide as his reptilian face would allow.
"Eh, not important," Morgan waved off. "Anyway, why're we here? I asked that question a whole minute ago!"
Mikael reiterated what they were there for.
He remarked in his mind how different everything was. The entire world had been changed, with the ruins such as the one they were in being the only testament to a past long since gone.
Still, there was beauty in that difference. The world may have been different, the people may have been different, but history had not been forgotten, and there were new wonders to explore. Although he did find much irony in where he walked. The ancient walls of the old Altean royal tomb were the greatest testament to their descendant's heritage to the southeast, and yet there they stood, left to rot in a sun-blasted wasteland. Mikael had read much of the Ylisseans near-psychotic reverence to lineage, but the ruins he walked through contained more history than their blood did.
"Well, this is incredibly boring," Morgan remarked flatly after Mikael was done explaining, seemingly gliding across the old stones beneath her. "How vague can it get? 'Power'? What kind of power, even? Magical power?"
"Now that I think about it, the old Altean royal family was known for their powerful magic, in my time. The women of it, at least. The men always seemed to favor the blade over magic."
"That's kinda dumb, though," Morgan said, brows furrowed. "I mean, swords and stuff have their place, but if you can use magic, use it! Lightning kills faster than any sword. Even magical ones."
"You and I are of the same mind," Mikael said. "It matters not what we think, however. What matters is what I said before. What power is here could help me, and perhaps help those who fight alongside your father to the west." A foggy memory returned to him, of a powerful staff, although he could not remember its function. Perhaps that was the power they sought? He remembered life… "If it is a power that grants eternal life, we shall destroy it. Even if it could help me."
"Isn't that the entire reason we're coming down here, though?" Morgan replied. "Why would you destroy it?"
"Eternal life is an abomination, young Morgan," Mikael growled. "Even more so when granted through unnatural means. Even the dragons fell with age."
Mikael hadn't lied. He truly was looking for a cure for his hideous visage. However, he knew the visceral, animal part of him didn't want the same atrocity that happened at Khadein to happen anywhere else. Perhaps the staff could grant eternal life without a cost, but he would not allow it to fall into the hands of anyone. A scramble for such a powerful artifact could result in the fall of a dozen kingdoms.
Morgan looked at the dragon man strangely. She wanted to believe him, truly. He'd been nice to her so far, but their current activity was, well, as she said, boring. In the end, however, she shrugged. A part of her liked the boring. It was much better compared to the alternative-
But what was the alternative?
Dark thoughts swirled within her head, images she couldn't make sense of, sounds that made her want to claw out of the earth and fly free and forever. Just as quickly as it had come, though, it was gone. She let out a sigh. Perhaps it was good that some things were forgotten. Still, she wished she could remember her mother, at the very least.
Not long after that, the duo found themselves in a vast, underground expanse. A mausoleum, with stone sarcophagi lining the intricately carved stone walls. All of it in remembrance of the Lowell family. Mikael couldn't help but hang his draconian head in the presence of distinguished royalty. Even though they were all long dead, an air of dignity still pervaded much of the area. His reptilian eyes were drawn to the coffins towards the back of the room, laid to rest underneath a faded, but remarkably well-preserved mural. King Marth of Altea, standing hand in hand with his bride, Princess Caeda of Talys. The remains of the Shadow Dragon, Medeus, laid behind them, as they went to go meet a brilliant sunrise.
"Pretty…" Morgan said, smiling as she looked at the mural. "Who are they?"
"…Sometimes it is easy to forget that your memory is impaired…" Mikael grumbled.
"Well, that's just rude. I don't go around talking about your scaly issue, do I?" Morgan shot back, puffing her cheeks out and crossing her arms. "You could just answer my question, you know, instead of being so rude."
"My apologies, young Morgan," Mikael bowed. "I am simply… in awe, as it were. I never thought I would see such a sacred place. They are Marth and Caeda, heroes of old who saved the world from the Shadow Dragon, Medeus. Even thousands of years later, their achievements are not forgotten."
"Oh…" Morgan sighed. "Good to know, I guess."
Mikael snorted. "Indeed. You would receive many strange looks were you to ask that question anywhere else, I would wager. We have a job to do, however, and we cannot remain for long."
"Well, let's get on with it, then!" Morgan rubbed her shoulders. "It's starting to get cold down here!"
Mikael approached the raised platform, looking over the inscriptions. The obvious, Marth and Caeda, laid at the top. What he was looking for was right next to them.
Elice.
King Marth's sister, who allowed her brother to escape when Gra betrayed their country to Dolhr. He remembered that she had used a staff. Or, rather, she never had to use a certain staff. He couldn't quite remember what it was called. However, he couldn't ignore the rumors. Whatever foggy information stood at the back of his mind would surely come to him if it was important.
"Forgive me, my lady…" Mikael whispered. "But to ensure this tragedy is not repeated, I will do what I must."
"Mikael, what are you…?" Morgan trailed off as she saw the draconian grab onto the lid of the coffin, and violently attempt to shove it away. "Er, I think that's usually frowned upon."
"Oh, indeed," Mikael panted, focusing all his strength on removing the stone lid. "I am sure in certain parts of the world, this would be sacrilege. I feel disgusted with myself having already started, but it is too late to go back now."
"Uh, don't worry! I'll be sure to tell no one!" Morgan replied. "I don't want my only friend to be stoned to death!"
"Pah. My scales are not pretty but I am sure I can take a few blows from blunt stones. Ah, there we go-!"
The stone lid tipped over the coffin and smashed onto the floor. It cracked, before crumbling into several larger pieces. Morgan took a step back, coughing into her fist.
"Stupid tomb with stupid dust! Gah!" Morgan took a deep breath. "At least you got it open! What's inside?"
Mikael was silent. His eyes stared into the open sarcophagus, his hand gently shaking.
"Uh, Mikael? Mr. Dragon Man? Are you broken?" Morgan asked cautiously, walking around the draconian as if he was an exhibit in a museum. "Please don't tell me you're broken. I don't- I wasn't paying attention to where we were going when we came in. If you-!"
"Quiet!" Mikael suddenly snarled, staring at Morgan with such rage and confusion that the half-manakete took a step back, suddenly wary. Mikael blinked once and sighed. "…I am sorry, child, but this… this discovery has made things incredibly complicated."
"…How?" Morgan asked quietly. "You said it was power, maybe even one that could make someone immortal! How can it get complicated?"
"I should have known…" Mikael growled, scratching at his head. "I should have known! No, Morgan, this is not a staff that grants immortality. Had I only remembered…"
Mikael shook his head. He prayed for forgiveness as his scaly, clawed hand descended into the coffin, careful not to disturb Elice's bones. Slowly, he raised the staff. It was a thing of beauty. A brown rod connected to a golden top, with a red gem inlaid at the very tip, with two strange fluttering bits made of cloth trailing from it. How such fabric hadn't decayed along with their user was beyond Mikael, although much of Khadein hadn't decayed when the Ylisseans and Feroxi stormed in.
"This is not a staff that grants eternal life…" Mikael hissed harshly, hands careful not to shatter the priceless artifact. "This is a staff that grants new life to the departed. The…"
The Aum Staff.
And there we have it. Morgan has finally appeared, along with the return of an old friend. What manner of power have they discovered deep beneath the old country of Altea? Well, a Google search will give you your answer!
Anyway, this Xenologue was fun as hell to write. Might not be very cohesive, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. Hopefully you did, too.
Here's a link to our Discord: discord .gg/9XG3U7a
Hope to see you guys next week!