Pain flared through his body.
Forzen winced, letting out a groan as he opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, the intense sunlight blinding him. He squeezed his eyes shut, however the light still shone through his eyelids, making his vision red. Knowing he couldn't fall back into the darkness of sleep that he was in earlier, he groaned again as he opened his eyes once more, blinking furiously as his eyesight adjusted slowly.
Once he could finally see properly, he looked around the room he was in. He didn't recognise it.
Forzen leapt up onto all fours with a frightened gasp, suddenly wincing as pain flared through his body. The stinging in his chest and stomach almost made him collapse to the ground again. As he had launched himself up to his paws, he had spread out his wings, almost defensively, and now that he had recovered from the shock of the unfamiliar room, he suddenly felt an odd weight on his left wing.
Turning to look at his wing, he suddenly noticed his wing was bandaged up. He looked down all over himself and saw his torso was wrapped in bandages as well. His face wasn't, but he could suddenly feel the pain from the long scabs that ran down his face. He reached a paw up to feel the ugly scabs, wincing in pain as his scales ran across the somewhat raw flesh.
It took a while for everything to come back to him, and once he had, he almost wished it hadn't.
The agony from before washed over him once more as he remembered the wounds he had been dealt, the blood that had poured out of him and splattered all over the ground. The fear of being beaten up again, with all of the dragons so intent on killing him. They almost played with him with the way they tortured him; it was almost like they were trying to get their revenge, knowing the way Spyro toyed with his own victims.
It was terrifying to think of the fact that these were normal, everyday Warfangian citizens. Not soldiers or skilled fighters, but regular people, just wanting to beat up and cut open a young purple dragon. A child.
With no one there with him, he was unprotected. They had the perfect opportunity to finally attack.
His mind went back to the reason why Forzen had run off in the first place, and it made his blood boil.
Muras.
The name echoed through his mind, and he had to suppress his growl. This was all Muras' fault. The older purple dragon wouldn't listen to him, wouldn't pay attention to how he felt. He was so focused on himself and what he wanted to do, that he just stood and left to go talk with some other random dragon, leaving Forzen open for Fjor'gand and his band of bullies to come up and insult him, threaten him, and beat him.
Forzen still had no idea what 'moras'tov' meant.
Then he had run out of the restaurant in anger and fear. Sure, that part was his own fault, but it was only because of Muras' actions that he had run off. Muras had left him vulnerable. Forzen had thought the point of being a mentor was to provide helpful life tips to the mentee, and to be someone who was safe to be around.
Right now, Forzen hadn't felt safe around Muras at all. He didn't feel safe around anyone.
So really, running off blindly into the streets of Warfang wasn't really that much of a change for him. Everywhere was dangerous. Everyone and everything wanted him dead.
That brought him to the last thing he remembered before falling unconscious, succumbing to his wounds. Someone had saved him, picked him up, taken him away. He looked around the room again. This definitely wasn't Muras' house. The room… the building… was foreign to him.
Why would someone pick him up and take him to their house? It didn't make sense. He saw the way everyone looked at him. They all wanted him dead. As they watched in shock as the violent events unfolded in front of them, Forzen could tell that every single civilian was silently cheering for Forzen's assailants, hoping that they would kill the tiny purple devil that had infiltrated Warfang.
So why was Forzen in someone's house? And more importantly, why had they treated him? He had been bandaged, and many of his wounds had been aided by red gems. Who in their right mind would take him in and heal him?
Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and a familiar wind dragon entered. Forzen scoffed. Yeah of course, my uncle, he thought. It's all his fault too. It's his fault Muras stood up and left me.
Forzen turned his head away from Aerus, who just sighed sadly at Forzen's angry actions. "Forzen, I just wanted to check on you to see if you were alright," the wind dragon said softly.
"Why should I talk to you? You're to blame too," Forzen deadpanned.
Aerus blinked, not expecting that response. "Uh… for what?" Aerus questioned, trying not to sound too defensive.
"Muras got up and left me because you did. He saw an opportunity to leave me for someone he really cared about, so he took it!"
"Forzen, I—"
"Oh enough already! Why do you care?!" Forzen spat. "Everyone in Warfang wants me dead! Everyone in this ancestor-damned city wants to see my blood paint the streets red! Why do you care what happens to me?! You should have just let me die!"
Aerus' breath hitched as he tried to hold back tears, hearing the horrible, morbid words that the young purple dragon screamed at him. "Forzen, I care because I have a heart. I care because I can see you past the stigma of 'evil purple dragon' that everyone is placing on you. I care because… you're my nephew," Aerus murmured.
"Like that means a damn. All things considered, I'm not Cynder's son. By that logic, I'm not your nephew," Forzen clarified, using Cynder's logic to his own benefit for once. "Besides, because of what happened, I don't feel safe around you either, just like I don't feel safe around Muras."
"Forzen, I'm serious. Why else would I have saved you from that… that… torture?"
"I don't know. Why did you?" Forzen grumbled with a shrug.
"I just told you. You're my nephew. I can see you for who you are, not for what everyone else says you are. Forzen, we're related, and I just want to get to know my own nephew better. I want to be… someone positive in the family, considering right now, you have no one positive in your family."
"What family? I don't have parents. Cynder disowned me, and I've disowned Spyro. There's no way I'm calling that devil my father."
An uncomfortable silence washed over them. Forzen just sat there glaring at Aerus, who looked back at him anxiously. Eventually, Forzen gave a long sigh, looking away finally, reaching up and rubbing his eyes, being careful not to agitate the massive scabs running over them.
"How long was I out for?" Forzen then asked.
"You were out for two whole days. It's Laoday."
Forzen moaned. "That means school starts in two days. I'm going to be killed there."
"I'm sure it won't be that bad, Forzen. They wouldn't let the kids be violent at school, I can promise you that, Forzen."
"Can you? Can you really? LOOK AT ME!" Forzen screamed suddenly, causing Aerus to flinch. "I'm a purple dragon! Do you think anyone will care about that?! Do you think they'll say 'no violent acts on a purple dragon'? Absolutely NOT! You wanna know why? I'm a freak of nature, corrupted and destined for evil, 'tainted by the Dark Overlord's blood', because 'all purple dragons are deceitful, demonic creatures and deserve to be MURDERED ON THE SPOT'! BECAUSE I'M A 'MORAS'TOV', WHATEVER THE HELL THAT EVEN MEANS!"
Forzen didn't even notice Aerus gasped at the usage of the foreign word. He continued his spiel, his voice getting hoarse as his screams got louder and more emotional, more filled with hatred. Whether that was towards him, other dragons, or Forzen himself, Aerus wasn't sure.
"Nobody gives a damn about me, Aerus! NOBODY. GIVES. A DAMN. I don't care what sort of things I might learn at school, or what sort of good things you say will be there, because it will be different for me!" Forzen roared. "It'll be different, because all purple dragons are tainted in the eyes of the public now! They're all the same! And that includes me! How Muras can walk around without being bashed, I will never know, and I will forever be jealous of him over that!"
Aerus just stood there, staring at Forzen with horror. He stammered a bit, trying to get his words out. "You've been called… all those things?" he exclaimed.
"That and worse."
"'Tainted by the Dark Overlord's blood'?"
"From D'varin, a youngling barely a few years older than me who used to beat me whenever he got the chance."
"'Deceitful, demonic creatures'?"
"From the mouth of one of the dragons that beat me up after I left the restaurant. It was… one of the many titles I had hurled at me."
"'Moras'tov'?!"
"From one of the teenagers at school. Yes."
"Do you even know what that means?"
"No. Do enlighten me."
"It's… an incredibly derogatory term towards purple dragons—basically a slur—that originated from ancient times. The 'moras' bit comes from the word 'murasa', meaning 'purple', which Muras is actually named after, and the 'tov' bit I'm not so sure. The meaning has been lost over the thousands of years it's been since the word was coined. The only reason I know of it is due to the ancient history classes I took in school. I'm not sure where this kid that called you that learned it from; maybe he does ancient history, I have no clue."
Forzen just scoffed. "My suspicions of it being a derogatory term was correct, I guess. What a surprise," he said blankly.
Aerus just sighed, knowing that anything he could ever try would be useless in trying to help Forzen. "I'll… I'll leave you alone for a while," the wind dragon murmured as he turned to leave the room, a sad look on his face. "There's some things in the room you can help yourself to if you want something to do. Books, parchment, ink and quill, whatever you want."
Forzen didn't reply, instead curling himself up so he was looking at the wall opposite from Aerus. He was only aware of Aerus having left after the sound of a few footsteps and the click of the door as it closed. A sad huff escaped Forzen's lungs as he was left to his thoughts.
He felt so horribly alone. He wanted so badly to make some friends but there was no one he could trust. Everyone was either deathly scared of him, wanted him dead, or couldn't care enough to make him feel safe around them. He didn't care if what Muras did was an accident; it still shattered his trust. Aerus seemed nice, but Forzen didn't trust him either.
At the very least, Muras and Aerus were the only ones to be remotely kind to him, which was a nice change however. The guardians, at least Torialis and Ash, had been… tolerant… of him. He didn't know where they really stood regarding him being in Warfang.
But tolerant wasn't caring for him. Leaving him alone in a place where he was so obviously uncomfortable and leaving him open to be bullied and attacked was not caring for him.
No one had cared for him since Jaarsol, and before then, Gur'ath. They were the only ones who ever properly cared for him. But Jaarsol was dead. Gur'ath had been corrupted and was a part of the Dark Assassin Corps. Despite the dire few years in the cave with Gur'ath and the other kids, they had gotten close and looked out for each other, until Gur'ath was taken, leaving Forzen alone, until he was moved out and given to Jaarsol in a private cave as his caretaker.
He wasn't allowed to go outside, but being cramped up in the room was the best time of his life. He got to spend time with Jaarsol, and he got to be alone with her. He could finally feel safe with someone. She was very much a mother-figure in his life.
But now she was gone because of him.
This was a big reason why he was scared to make friends as well; everyone who loved him and who lived back always got corrupted or killed. In reality it was only two people, but they were the only two people he had.
It was lonely, thinking back on those he loved dearly, knowing they would never come back, knowing it would be near impossible to make more friends. He was scared of everyone, and everyone was scared of him.
Even Muras was scared of him. It was painfully obvious in the restaurant.
Forzen just felt so alone.
So alone.
So… alone…
The word lingered on his mind, and he couldn't get rid of the terrible word. The word 'alone' echoed constantly in his head, and he had to fight back the tears that he could feel coming. He closed his eyes. Please, give me a friend. Give me someone I can trust, who isn't scared of me, who actually cares for me, he prayed silently, although he knew the chances of that happening were next to none.
Forzen stood up and walked towards a shelf in the corner of the room. Inside it was some parchment and a jar of ink with a quill sitting in it. With a huff, he grabbed them and sat them down in front of him.
As he stared down at the parchment, he tried to remember back to when Jaarsol was teaching him how to write in the common dialect. He dipped the quill into the ink, before hovering it over the parchment on the floor in front of him, causing a few droplets of ink to splat onto it as he moved his lips, trying to figure out the letters he would need to write to get the word onto the parchment.
Once he believed he had it, he lowered the quill and wrote the word 'ALONE' on the parchment, in big, messy capital letters. He dipped the quill in the ink again, and underneath the first word, he wrote 'SORRY'.
He grabbed the page and set it aside, revealing a blank sheet of parchment from underneath it, before he then dipped the quill in the ink again and wrote, in slightly smaller letters than before, 'FORGIVE ME'.
Forzen wrote it as a prayer to the ancestors. He felt like he had failed them.
It was also a prayer to Jaarsol, for failing her. He'd said when he decided he wanted to see Du'ryal, that he would bring Jaarsol and Kyoren with him too, to reunite their family. Kyoren was then killed the day after he had told Jaarsol this, and then Jaarsol was killed not too long after. Forzen was the one that escaped instead. Jaarsol should have been the one privileged enough to leave Dark Peak. She deserved freedom after everything she did for him. She deserved to see her son again.
The loneliness washed over him even stronger as his thoughts continued to spiral around Jaarsol. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, feeling the moisture in them build up. With a growl, he rubbed his eyes violently, trying to rub the tears away. He couldn't be weak. He had to be strong for Jaarsol. He had to keep her living in his mind.
He thought back to her, trying to picture her in his mind once more. He thought of her deep, earthy green scales and her emerald green eyes. They were the most vibrant green he had ever seen.
Forzen needed to honour her. He realised that he hadn't done any special act of remembrance for her since she died. He'd talked about her, but that was hardly anything special. If anything, all it did was contribute to his sob story, knowing how Jaarsol's story ended.
Looking down at the quill in his paw, and the last piece of parchment he had grabbed in front of him, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, saying Jaarsol's name aloud a few times. His voice was barely a whisper, but it was so loud to him, as Jaarsol's name cut through the silence in the room.
Once he had the name and the sounds figured out, he tried piecing letters to the name. Then, he tried to write the name down: 'YARSOL'. Forzen smiled when he looked at the name, but it quickly disappeared. He had a strong gut feeling that something was wrong. He hadn't spelled it right.
Turning back towards the shelf, seeing a few more pieces of parchment on it, he ran across the room to grab them, before placing them down in front of him, as he tried to rewrite the name a few more times. 'YARSSOL'. 'YARSOLL'. 'YARSOLE'. But he knew deep down within him that they were all wrong; he couldn't explain it, but he just knew he was wrong. Discouragement washed over him. All he wanted to do was do a special act of remembrance by writing Jaarsol's name, but he couldn't even do that right.
He wanted to cry.
But there were no tears in his eyes.
He wanted to give up, until he felt a soft whisper. It was ethereal and otherworldly, but it was… familiar. It was loving.
"You're doing great, little one."
It was her.
"Jaarsol? Jaarsol, is that you?" Forzen breathed, his heart speeding up rapidly. She had told him that dragon spirits were still able to communicate with the living, but it was entirely different thing to experience it.
"Yes, Forzen. Yes, it's me."
"It's so good to hear your voice again," Forzen whispered, trying to keep his voice down. He choked as he also tried to keep his tears in. "I miss you. I tried to do this to honour you but I just can't do it. I don't know how to spell your name and I know this is wrong."
"Forzen, I really appreciate the act. I don't care whether you spelled my name right or wrong. It's the act that counts."
"I just wanted to get it right! I wanted to do something right by you, especially after I failed you."
"You didn't fail me, Forzen. You're here now and you're safe; that's what matters to me. Don't give up. If you can't persist with writing my name, how can you persist with life? You're going to need to be strong. Your life was, unfortunately, never going to be easy."
"I… I know."
There was a moment of silence, and for a brief moment, Forzen was scared Jaarsol had left him again. Her soft whisper cut through his thoughts before they could spiral too far.
"Try writing my name again. I'll guide you through it. First of all, start with a 'J'."
"A 'J'? But it doesn't make that sound!"
"Sometimes it can. The ancient language is a strange one, and us dragons kept some aspects of the ancient language for some of our names. My name is one of them. So, write a 'J'."
"'J'," Forzen said, reading the letters as he wrote.
"Now for two 'A's. The double 'A' creates the elongated 'aah' sound in my name."
"'A'… and… another 'A'."
"Now for an 'R' to round the sound off."
"'R'…"
"And you got it right the first time you did it with the 'S-O-L'."
"'S'… 'O'… and 'L'. Is that it?"
"Yes. You spelled my name, Forzen!"
'JAARSOL', the messy writing read. Forzen was overjoyed when he saw that he had written Jaarsol's name. "I did it! I did it Jaarsol! I wrote your name!"
"Great! Write it again."
And so he did. On another piece of parchment, he wrote 'JAARSOL' once more. He beamed at the sight of his caretaker's name written on parchment.
What Jaarsol said next surprised him.
"Now, I want you to write your own name. I won't help you, and I won't confirm that it's right. I want you to figure it out for yourself. You're going to need to make your own decisions now, especially with you going into school. You need to be persistent. So persist, Forzen, and write your name. After you think you've got it right, I want you to keep writing, focus on making your writing neater, and smaller. And if you absolutely need the help, I want you to talk to the dragons that have been placed around you for help. I know you haven't started off on the best first impressions with them, but they really do care for you, especially Muras. It'll be his job to finish what I could not," Jaarsol explained. "I wish you good luck. Goodbye, Forzen."
With that, Jaarsol was gone. Forzen could feel it.
The purple dragon closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath, before looking down at the sheets of parchment in front of him. He moved the ones he had written on to the side, exposing another blank page, which was to be purposed for his own name. He placed the quill in the jar of ink as he began saying his name a few times, getting his lips used to the name so he could figure out what letters were associated with each sound.
After about five minutes, he grabbed the quill, before slowly writing his name. 'FORZEN'. It looked right. He was happy with how it looked. He wrote his name a few more times before he was sure it was correct. He'd have to make sure with Aerus that it was correct later on, but that could wait until later. He grabbed some more parchment, and started writing his name smaller, moving the quill slower to get smoother, neater movements. He spent the rest of the morning and a bit of the afternoon writing, and he was pretty happy with his progress, before he decided he was finished and wanted to read.
He looked up at the shelves looking for a book to read. Forzen reached up and grabbed out a book called Ul'eissus and the Spirit of the Sea, which seemed fairly interesting. It was a fantasy book, which seemed very interesting. It had a completely different magic system to the ones the dragons used, as well as some really different types of creatures. It helped that not only was it actually written by a fox, but most of the story happened around or in the ocean, which allowed so much more creativity for the creatures and magics as not much was known about what lived under the ocean at all.
He started reading the book, and he liked it. About half-way through the afternoon, the door opened and two heads, one purple and one grey, peeked in. Forzen didn't notice. The heads quickly disappeared and the door closed silently, leaving Forzen to his book. Muras and Aerus would get Forzen later. Right now, it was best to leave him alone to read and ponder on the past few days.
Agwa: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you liked the chapters! Glad to hear you like how Forzen's inherited Cynder's traits, I thought it was a good combination of Spyro and Cynder to have him look like Cynder but be a purple dragon. As for the incorporation of sinister dragon features, it's not something I've really thought about, but who knows, it can't hurt to have a play with things lol.
Dragon of Mystery: Yeah that last chapter got real rough for poor Forzen. Regarding the cruelty, it's no surprise that everyone has so much animosity for someone with purple scales, with the back-to-back wars started by both Malefor and Spyro, and with already having Muras back in the city. Also thanks for reminding me about Destiny Intertwined I've fallen behind on reading that, I need to catch up on it XD
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Hope the little bit with Jaarsol's spirit was nice, as well to also see her when she's not in the middle of dying. It was good writing a bit of her interacting with Forzen. Bit of a lighter chapter after the last one, but I think it turned out nicely.
Anyway, I'll see you all later; Chapter 9 is also ready to upload so I might post that next week.
Thanks everyone for reading, I'll see you all later! Have a great rest of your day!
