It was odd, she thought, that death would feel as serenity, especially when the pain that was so vividly wrecking her body just moments prior had nearly forced her mind to collapse. But was this truly death? She did not believe that in death, her mind could still form such to wonder such questions, and she certainly did know that the death of an Ancient would not allow any soul of a Dragonnaire to rejoin the Life River. So, was this what death was like for a Dragonnaire?
To have thoughts wander about in limbo for eternity? It certainly did not seem bad, considering the alternative, but it also seemed rather dull, and to be honest, not what she was expecting at all. Shivylie had, at times, pondered what death would entail for Dragonnaires. Certainly she would not know what death was like for others, though the well known tale to all is the soul would return to the Life River. No one really questioned it, but perhaps a few, like Shivylie.
For Shivylie, such an outcome was said to be an impossible one, that her soul was bound to the Dragon’s within her, and thus when the Ancient one is destroyed, so too does all of its fragments. A soul bound to such a fragment, would be destroyed as well. Is this, then, what it is like to be destroyed? To be able to construct such critical thinking and ponder what whether this is death or not? The very notion of thought should stem from a form of consciousness, or so she thought.
Perhaps it was wrong? Were the consciousness, critical thinking, soul, and body all separate? That should be impossible. Consciousness is the product of the body living, and critical thinking is born from consciousness. Thus if the body is dead, with the soul being pulled apart, then it stands to reason that the consciousness, and thus critical thinking, would cease to exist. Therefore this was unacceptable to her logic. And if by reversing the logic of such a denial of this outcome, she came to the conclusion that she is not yet dead.
“… nnmmm…”
She slowly, but surely, opened her eyes. Heavy was her eyelids, and the strength to open them was lacking, but she still persisted. Light flooded her vision, forcing her to shut her eyes quickly. But as she slowly reopened them, allowing her vision to adapt to the brightness, she saw a familiar face. A young, rather unassuming face of a man. His soft features made him look to be unused to the harshness of wars, despite the dirt and cuts that were present.
Dirt was also present in his dark short red matted hair that lacked any combing or direction it wanted to grow, the fact that he had it cut in order to prevent it from becoming some sort of wild bush was a saving factor, and his dark red eyes watering at the sight of her awakening.
“Shivylie… it’s good that you have finally returned. I… had nearly given up hope that you may open your eyes.”
He said, tears choking up his voice. She looked at her own hand, placing it upon her chest. She was not dead. She had a heartbeat.
“… I… did not die… Did I not?”
She asked, to which he shook his head.
“I made certain that you would not, though life nearly did leave your body.”
She closed her eyes at his reply, with a smile.
“A promise… that was thought to be a sweet lie… was kept true.”
She muttered, before opening her eyes and looking straight into his. Placing a hand on her chest, she felt the pounding of her heart. It wasn’t just that. There was something else. Something warm, familiar. What she felt within her… was him.
“… The courage of your deeds, Deryke… It resounds within my soul. And you have kept your word to me.”
She told him, and it was certainly true. She now knew what he had done, after allowing herself to calm down. The echoes of his deed resounded in her mind and her chest. What he had done was something she never believed were possible. He saved her from dying. What should have been her fate to be with her flight, was now overturned.
“And… for now, I live the shame of living whilst the rest of my flight turns to ash and dust.”
“You live, Shivylie, and there is no shame in that.”
“So it is easy for one to say…”
Shivylie muttered, clutching her fist tightly over her chest. Deryke looked at her with saddened eyes, eyes that told her he knew of what became of her flight. He knew it, and yet he made this choice, and to see her suffer because of it.
“I… I wanted you to live… a selfish wish, for certain… but I chose to never allow another one that I care for perish before me… I promised that… to Relinton as well.”
“… Lilianne…”
Shivylie thought back to the White Dragonnaire of her flight. Young, brash, headstrong. Though her run-in with that Daemos had rattled her to her core, and she became fearful, and overly cautious. Was she still like that in her final moments? Shivylie was certain Lilianne saw the truth of the Dark ones, and yet she still made Deryke promise to save her? Shivylie felt the guilt and sadness grow within her. How foolish she was to not see this clearly.
“I… Did I… serve my duty? As a Wing? … Did I… lead those young ones… to a death that could have been avoided? … Are… my hands stained… with their blood?”
She wondered, closing her fists tightly, but Deryke held her fist with his own hand, his warm hands.
“They fought hard, Shivylie, and held the darkness at the door… They saw the truth, and yet still held on… Even Relinton… she knew what you faced… she felt fear… yet she… she still wanted to save you… she told me to save you. They fought on Shivylie, and they fought till the end.”
“I… see… So my flight… held strong… for me.”
Shivylie smiled, her heart feeling slightly lighter in knowing this.
“… Help me stand, Deryke… for I wish to see the light of the new Sun with my own eyes. The light… that my Flight fought for.”
She said, and Deryke nodded, getting up to his feet, and pulling Shivylie up with his hands. Shivylie swayed a little as the blood rushed to her head, but found her footing. Through the broken ceiling and windows of the grand throne room, the light of the day were breaking through the dispersing dark clouds that plagued the lands during the war. Shivylie walked over to where a rather large part of the wall was broken off, looking out to observe the grandness of the city of Tiamat. Though smoke and debris were all over the city, with the light of the new day illuminating the city, its splendor could still be seen amongst the destruction. Hope despite the dark times.
“… I never truly felt love for this city… but to see such destruction of beauty be halted, is certainly a sight that calms my heart.”
Shivylie stated with a smile, before she noticed a piece of broken glass on the side, a remaining piece of what should have been a window. And with the light reflecting off it, Shivylie could see her own reflection. That was when she noticed something different. Her eyes.
“… My… eyes… they… They are red?”
She did not believe it, as she tried to look closer at her own reflection. Not truly believing the glass, she looked around and saw a piece of metal on the floor, part of a broken ornament that once decorated the throne room. She raced over and picked up the metal, peering into the shiny surface to see her own reflection. And staring right back at her, were a pair of blood red eyes. Where once silver coloured her sharp eyes, now red dyed them over.
“I… H-how?”
She turned to Deryke, who walked over and with a slightly troubled look upon his face.
“I had to save you, Shivylie, no matter what… And thus, the answer that I found… was to bond my soul to yours. Using my red soul, bringing the fragments of your own soul, mending it together… and thus, you share a portion of my own soul within you.”
Deryke’s answer surprised Shivylie, and yet she knew it to be true. Her soul resounded deep in her chest, and within it another seemed to be intertwined with her own essence. Deryke had fused his red Dragon soul with hers, and so Shivylie’s eyes have turned due to such an influence.
“A bonding of souls… To think of such an answer…”
Shivylie muttered.
“An answer that was not of my own. For my souls told me to look within this.”
Deryke took out a black book, and Shivylie was a little confused at first, for she had not seen such a book before, unless Deryke had been receiving books from another? That thought made Shivylie slightly upset, but said nothing. She took the book and opened a page, but to her surprise, she could not read a single word on the pages. Magic? Could it be Dracmag-ir? But who could cast such a powerful magic that even Shivylie could not read it?
“… I… cannot read this.”
She admitted, and Deryke was surprised by this revelations as well.
“You cannot? B-but…”
“… Then the winds have smiled upon you this day, Deryke. Keep that book safe with you, and tell no one of its secrets.”
Shivylie said, giving the book back to Deryke.
“W-why should I not tell the Order of this-”
“Because we do not know what this secret may entail… What it truly is, and what it may cost… We do not know how others may act upon hearing this, and for the Order… none but the Wings know of the price we pay for killing the Ancients. To reveal this, is to reveal to the Order that the Wings knew of this horror and tragedy of the Dark ones.”
“Do you think the Order does not deserve to know?”
Shivylie bit her lip for a moment, before answering.
“It does… All who serve such a purpose deserve to know the truth… but not now… Not until we understand what this curse of souls truly is.”
“Curse?”
Deryke questioned her choice of words.
“A curse indeed, but one that has veiled itself in the guise of hope… There is a mystery that still requires answers, and a shadow that lurks within the darkness, and I intend to search it out… until we find it, will you stand by my side, Deryke?”
She turned to him, to which Deryke smiled and nodded, taking her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers.
“A path by your side is certainly a worthy one.”
Shivylie smiled at his answer.
“Worthy the end may not be… but the journey itself, shall certainly prove its own worth taking it together.”
The silence of the people in this chamber was suffocating, to say the least, and with the looks and stares from most of them, it should be given that he would feel his nerves being shot. Never before had he endured such harsh scrutinising stares. The first time was harsh, but it was not as harsh as it felt now. The glare from one person in particular was especially harsh, and he had hoped that he had gotten used to it by now, but it would seem that fear never truly goes away, and the intimidation he was feeling was certainly one that was intense enough to warrant such fears once more.
Perhaps he could get some reprieve from certain people in this chamber, and thus his gaze turned towards them for some semblance of aid, though those that he turned to, seemed rather hopeless to help him in this point in time. One even looked rather uninterested in this entire affair, though he wished she wasn’t, as the whole thing started with her idea. He turned to the other in the room whom he believed would be his ally, but she too was something at a loss.
Well, to be honest, she had little clues as to what had occurred, therefore she could not give a proper account. Perhaps the aftermath of everything was a far greater ordeal than the actual event itself, and he was rather wishing he was still in the thick of things, rather than face the stares from these people.
“… Well now, I suppose it would be best to give a report on the war.”
The elderly man in blue stated.
“Wha- Are you going to ignore this, Sevarn?!”
The large gruff looking man in red snapped, to which the elderly man shook his head.
“I am not ignoring this, master Fiera, but as it is such an important topic to discuss, I recommend us go over everything else before looking into this, lest we lose the importance of it with time’s wane.”
“… Fine. I will begin. The Red Flight saw many wounded, and we lost a few good Dragonnaires. The Western reaches of the White Kingdom is being cleared by our men.”
The large man stated in an unhappy tone.
“The Green flight saw little wounded, for our flight merely kept to contain the spread of the Dark ones beyond the White Kingdom. The other Kingdoms are making their way out of the White Kingdom as we speak, though I do believe many shall seek to reap the rewards of the broken Kingdom.”
The lady with long flowing green hair spoke, her tone hinting some form of amusement, with her eyes still focused on him despite her tone addressing all others in the chamber.
“The Yellow flight had received some wounded, and we lost little. The Dragoons are seeing to the clean up in the Kingdom, though we expect the remaining city guards to take over duties once they have regrouped and reorganised. I shall inform the Dragoons to start the expeditions to weed out any Dark ones and darklings that are still left roaming in the Kingdom.”
The mischievous grin on the young man with the wildish yellow hair was rather disconcerting, but he tried to pay it no mind.
“… The Brown flight has lost half in the battle. Many wounded.”
The young child-like girl spoke without much emotion in her words despite the contents of it.
“I suppose lady Borakeal speaks no more than that. Very well, the Blue flight bore some wounded, and some losses, though we have found new leads on the shadow that lurks behind the war. We still do not know who, or what they are, but we have certainly found some clues.”
The elderly man stated, before turning to the last member of the group. The white haired woman sighed, looking at her own hands before looking at him. The others in the chamber turned their gaze to her, more importantly, her blood red eyes.
“The White flight… suffered all dead. None live…”
“Lady Silvastern-”
Blue Wing wanted to stop her, but she continued.
“I am fine, Sevarn… The nobles that remain have sought to solidify their power and territories. The remaining Lords have stayed silent in their holds. At this current pace, the Kingdom will fall into civil unrest.”
“Such unrest can only be appeased by the King, as it is they who are given the power and right to rule over the Kingdom.”
The Green Wing pointed out.
“We shall not intervene.”
The Red Wing stated, crossing his arms.
“You would let the Kingdom fall into chaos?”
Yellow Wing quizzed.
“We do not intervene in the affairs of the Kingdoms, that is our law. We shall observe the Kingdom closely, until such a time when the nobles can convene to form a stable government, or a new King can be found before the trials.”
“Master Fiera has a point. The war has only just ended, and the dust of the battle has yet to settle. Even should unrest be the result, it would not occur within the next few cycles. We shall observe the Kingdom closely, as master Fiera said.”
“And abandon the Kingdom and its people?”
“That is not our duty, Silvastern.”
“Then what is, Red Wing?”
“We ensure that the Kingdoms do not fall. If they cannot stand tall in face of such tragedy, then they were never meant to stand at all. We shall only move to ensure the capital and the minimal amount of land is secured. That is all.”
She looked upset with this answer, but did not say anything back. She knew that it was what the Order represented, and to that end, they will not move.
“Now, can we go onto the pressing matter at hand? What had occurred in that throne room? Did the fallen Ancient not die? If so, why is White Wing still alive?”
The large man demanded.
“One question at a time, master Fiera.”
“I do not have time for such things, Sevarn! This is a matter that concerns the entire Order! We all know of what should happen when an Ancient falls, and yet here the White Wing still stands and breathes! We demand answers!”
“And such answers I had already given.”
The young woman stated, her emotions slightly agitated.
“It explains nothing!”
The mischievous looking man cleared his throat, gaining the attention of all.
“I do believe, Red Wing, that contrary to what you say, what White Wing had said speaks volume of what had transpired. The Ancient White was indeed vanquish, and the souls of the White flight did leave, and yet what this young red had managed to achieve, is to save the soul of our dear White Wing.”
“And that is what I find hard to believe! How is it possible for such a thing to exist?!”
“It can… and it did.”
The young girl of the Wings spoke up.
“… It is possible… for this young Red… holds two souls… And-”
The young girl pointed towards the young white haired woman.
“Bonded his soul… to hers… she lives through his red soul… so speaks the colour of her eyes.”
All in the chamber were silenced by this, before the elderly man spoke up.
“It would seem… that there are still many questions we do not know of our own souls. To assume that what we know is the limit of the truth is our folly, and this young master Verias has certainly showed us that.”
The elderly man turned to him and smiled warmly.
“You have our gratitude, for showing us a light beyond the darkness that we had long embraced as our fate. Though I do not know how you were able to perform such miracles, or whether you are capable of doing so again, at the very least, it has shown us a way out. And as such, I believe it is time for us to decide.”
Decide? He had no idea what this elderly man was talking about.
“This young Master Verias has shown us not only courage, valour, and the strength of miracles, but he has also proven his worth and mastery over his souls. A feat that few can boast. Thus, I propose we elevate young Master Verias to join us at this table, as equals. All here in favour?”
The elderly man asked, and one by one, the others raised their hand, except for the large man in red. The large man glared at him, eyeing him with great scrutiny.
“… Fiera, does the boy not earn your respect? Or has your pride clouded your sight?”
The lady in green asked coyly. The large man turned his glare unto her, before sighing, raising his own hand to match the others.
“I will admit the boy has mastered his souls… Though I do not know extent of it, nor if he can maintain such mastery.”
The large man snapped, earning a laugh from the lady in green.
“And ever the one to pout.”
“I am not pouting!”
The elderly man clapped his hands together, bringing the bickering to a halt, before he turned back to him.
“All are in favour, young Master Verias, and thus, I warmly welcome you to join us at this table of Wings.”
The elderly man gestured to the empty space at the far end of this semi-circle table, at the end in which he had longed believed to be a mere extension of the table. He was unsure, and turned to her, and her red eyes only seemed to smile, nodding in acknowledgement. He looked back to the others, and they all held the same anticipation in their eyes.
He walked over to the empty spot, and realised that a chair was there, silently being unused for so many cycles, and yet still remain in pristine condition. He ran a hand over the table where the seat was, and to his surprise, the table started to glow as dust and dirt cleaned itself from its surface. Standing behind the empty seat, he looked at the table surface, where words etched themselves into being through small black flames. Words that he did not realise was meant to signify his own position until he read it completely.
“… ‘He who leads before all others, harkons the coming of the Black dominion, greatest of the conquerors of the night. Spread forth the Wings of the Black Flight. Black Wing.'”
He looked up to the faces of all the others, who all stood from their seats and raised their hands high, summoning their souls weapons into being, pointed high towards the centre of the table.
“Rise, Wings of the Dragon Order.”
The woman in green started.
“Rise to honour the bravery of those who stand with us.”
The mischevious man continued.
“Rise… to bring our courage to face all adversities.”
The large man begrudgingly said.
“Rise… to seek… the everlasting peace of the land.”
The young girl spoke.
“Rise and let us join arms to welcome our newest Wing.”
The elderly man stated. The young woman, the last of the group, smiled and spoke with great pride and voice.
“We, the Wings of the Order, welcome you, Deryke Verias, Black Wing of the Dragonnaire Order.”
END
Imagination's fart 