The Story of Aftermath

The Three Eyed Dragon

Our Enemies Lie in Wait, They wait for the Time to Strike.

They watch us Struggle, they Study our Motives.

Do not be Fooled, do not be Lied to.

Our enemies are Strong, they Plan to Kill us all.

Save us Dragonets, save us from our Enemies.

The day started off as normal. Dragons were bustling around the Scorpion Den, the market in particular. Residents admired the scenery, selling foods or whatever valuable things others might find interesting, but going about their daily business as usual. It was rather cloudy today in the desert, but that did not stop the heat from coming in. A soft breeze flowed through the streets. Guards patrolled the area, making sure everything was going smoothly, stopping by to talk with one another every now and then.

All the citizens were loyal to their leader, Thorn - they had no one else to turn to. The War for SandWing Succession had gone on for fifteen years now, and they could find no safer place in the desert except for Thorn's protection. With her, they all felt safe in this war, as if they had no problems to deal with whatsoever. . . . Except, the same thing could not be said for one SandWing.

His name was Six-Claws. Unbeknownst to most residents here, he had served for Queen Oasis before she was killed by a Scavenger - of all creatures. He was loyal till his death, and worked for her since he was five years old . . . until she died. After the incident, Oasis' daughters had an argument on who should be the next queen. No settlement was made, thus the war began. One could say Six-Claws had no other choice but to work for Burn . . . and would turn out to be the biggest mistake of his life. It was torture for him. The tyranny left him with scars across his body, some dangerously near his eyes. Once, Burn had threatened to cut off his hand if he did not kill an intruding SkyWing. He had refused, and Burn left a gnarly cut on his left hand, near his sixth claw - hence the name. That happened in the first year the war had started, and after six months, Six-Claws had enough of the torture, and fled away in the night.

Now he was here - where else could he have gone? This was the only place where he could hide from Burn, and the war. He did not want to think of himself as a coward, only an Outclaw, running from his troubles, so he would not have to deal with them anymore. No more fighting, no more worries, just a normal life. That is what he had, and that is what he gave himself.

Life was normal, life was perfect for him. This day was like any other. Six-Claws stocked shelves with food, trinkets, and any other item that he was supposed to be selling. Rather, helping to sell.

"Hey Six-Claws," shouted one of his co-workers.

"What is it?" Six-Claws called back.

"Make sure to stock up on those red chameleons, the customers love them."

"We should be more worried about how many dragons would want them. It's too hard to rationalize them."

The job he had now was calming for him. It helped him to cope with anger, clear his mind of distractions and rage. Even still, as he worked here in this shop, he couldn't help but wonder if he was doing the right thing for himself. That . . . or he should have stayed in the battle, joined Thorn's army, and helped stop this war. At the same time he kept telling himself that the Prophecy will end the war - it only hasn't begun yet. Or will it be enough to stop the war? At this point, Six-Claws could only hope . . . .

At the entrance to the Scorpion Den, the day went as normal as it should be. That is, until a dark figure appeared, and walked into the den unnoticed. When people did notice the stranger, they stared, not knowing if this was a threat or not. It was in fact a dragon, but looked . . . off, somehow. Maybe it was its choice of clothing, or maybe it was because no one could see its face. Maybe his arm looked odd as well, or the way he kept twitching. But, either way, the unusual newcomer just looked sketchy.

The dragon wore a black trench coat; a large hat covered his entire face; magenta scales; black under scales; four black horns; jagged claws; the wings of a SkyWing. Its arm twitched, forcing the dragon to remove it from its pocket. Its arm looked strange as well. It looked as if he had been attacked by every tribe around Pyrrhia - RainWing venom, IceWing breath, NightWing fire, SandWing tail barb, every dragon ability packed together to make the worst kind of infection.

The dragon walked by almost every stand, driving his infected claw across the counter, terrifying the dragons around him. They took a step back when it got close to them.

Eventually, a guard holding a spear came up to the dragon and said: "Excuse me? Is there something wrong?" No response. "Hey, listen, I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you continue doing this, alright?"

A moment of hesitation, then the dragon slowly turned its head towards the guard, revealing only one of its eyes.

It stared at the guard, then turned, and walked off. The guard only watched as the stranger strided away, a hint of fear coming over him.

Six-Claws sorted trinket after trinket, food after food in their right place, hoping they were not missing anything. But that hope faded away when he realized that all the red chameleons were all gone.

"You have got to be kidding me," Six-Claws hissed to himself before letting out a sigh.

He would have to go out into the desert to maybe find some of the critters. He picked up the box, and began to take flight.

"Leaving so soon, old friend?"

The sudden voice made Six-Claws pause and dart his eyes left and right, fear beginning to take over.

"Answer me, old friend . . . I don't want to take offense to your silence . . . so speak."

Six-Claws looked around, turned towards a curtain . . . and gasped. The dragon in the black coat and hat stood there in the doorway, smiling at him wickedly. It walked in, smile fading, Six-Claws not daring to look away from the intruder.

"You look frightened," said the dragon. "You should remember me . . . or have you left me in the past?"

"I-I don't believe this," Six-Claws said. " . . . I never thought . . . I would see you again. I thought . . . you were dead."

The dragon scoffed. "Dead!? What makes you think that could be possible?"

"I haven't seen you, in so many years. . . . How are you back . . . how are you here?"

"I knew Thorn's 'hideout' would be a hot spot for dragons like you."

"What about Possibility? Why not check there?"

"I did . . . but I did not expect to find you there anyway. You were always so soft, weren't you . . . Desolate?"

"That name is dead to me. I go by Six-Claws now."

The dragon shook his head, chuckling to itself. "Six-Claws . . . 'Six-Claws.' You name yourself after what has made you separate from the world? 'Hey Six-Claws, I'm looking for a helping hand, figured I could use your help, because I know you've had experience with some extra help.'" The dragon laughed wickedly.

"I thought you were my friend . . . I thought we were the best of friends. But that was when I realized . . . all you ever wanted was blood."

"You think you could have gotten rid of me that easily? Even after you abandoned your own queen?"

"Burn was never my queen. Oasis was, and she is dead because of those pitiful Scavengers."

"That was the story, wasn't it? How ironic. Oasis was . . . ssssssoooooo cruel. Why did you look up to her?"

"Because she could accept one's differences. Because she was loyal to her kingdom, to me . . . to all of us."

"You don't know the half of the story . . . not even the entire thing."

"I know enough."

"You never knew about the abuse."

"You were the abuse."

"Because that is what dragons should be. You never understood my motive - that is why you ratted me out. And as for being 'different,' Desolate . . . I think, in time, you will find exactly what it means . . . to be . . . different. Haven't you realized? All dragons are different. But of course," the dragon lifted his arms, "in their own, unique, way."

The dragon removed his hat . . . revealing he had three eyes. The right was black, the left was purple, and the middle was red.

"How?" Asked Six-Claws. " . . . How did you escape?"

"Escape what?" The three eyed dragon produced a smile of malice on his face.

"Escape from Oasis? You know what I mean. Burn has taken the Stronghold, she could have known you would escape, and she would not let you go unpunished . . . without a proper torture."

"'Proper torture,' is that what Burn does these days? She has the right idea . . . dragons need to be disciplined."

"What?"

"You know what I mean. I can do that same thing to you right here and now . . . but I'm tired today, just thought I'd come by and say hello, let you know that . . . Aftermath . . . has returned."

Aftermath smiled, then put his hat back on. He turned, and walked off, spitting on the counter as he exited the room.

Six-Claws fell down on his knees, hands to his face, clutching his horns tightly. He then looked at his hand . . . his left hand . . . the one with six claws instead of five.