VIII-6
737 Words
He could see only black.
He heard his voice filling the darkness. As it spoke, the very words lit up in his field of vision, hovering like wisps of light that disappeared quickly as he said them.
“My children, you have betrayed me. You have turned the magic of this world into poison, and you would dare use that poison against me. I should dispose of you all. But I will spare this village under two conditions.”
He remembered this. He had given this speech on the beach in an elven village just before his betrayal. He had rounded up a hundred elves who cowered under him in fear.
Then voices sang.
Smile for us, old dragon lord,
for the world may soon stop spinning.
Shadow’s flame is you, old lord,
and this dead world needs your kindling.
The voices were out of tune.
They were mocking him.
They were attacking his confidence.
“Argh!” Dark screamed. “Stop replaying this memory. I don’t want to hear it!”
They had tricked him. The entire village was a part of a resistance. Why hadn’t he seen it?
I let my ego drive my actions, he thought sadly. I allowed my enemies to exploit my weaknesses.
Then he heard screams of men, women, and children.
Roars.
The crackle of flames.
The attack.
Fenroot’s pained roar rising from the woods.
He heard himself scream Fenroot’s name.
“Fenroot!”
No, Dark thought. No, you stupid dragon, don’t run into the woods!
But all he saw was the blackness. He heard his footsteps tracking frantically through the underbrush.
“Fenroot!” he cried. “Fenroot!”
No! Turn around! Stop chasing him!
“A little help, my lord,” Fenroot said.
Don’t help him!
Dark heard himself scream. He relived the pain again as the curse surged through his body, breaking his bones.
Not again! Damn you, Fenroot. Damn you, and everything you stand for!
Then, voices again.
“Did the curse work? Will he die?”
“Wasn’t he supposed to be dead by now? It didn’t work!”
“Quiet,” Fenroot said.
The darkness disappeared in a flash and he saw Norwyn fighting Fenroot in the woods. The two dragons danced around snapping ferociously at each other’s necks.
A long, slender dragon floated over them. He had green scales, a white mane, and a crooked smile. Dark reviled him on sight.
Moss, you traitor. Norwyn, watch out!
As if to punish him, the memory flickered away, replaced by the darkness again.
Dark felt his body drifting, like he was floating down the banks of a slow-moving river. There was no sight, no smell, no sound. Just the stillness of his own mind.
This was the real prison. Not the cage. Not his captors. The replays of the memories. The missed opportunities.
He wished he could go back. He wished with every scale in his body.
I failed my parents. They died like animals. I should have ended their suffering when I had the chance.
I lost everything.
I have become nothing.
A voice cut through the darkness. It was Miri’s voice. He didn’t know why he was thinking of her now, but there was no doubt—it was her.
“Yet you are still alive,” Miri said.
I am still alive.
“When your parents were cursed, what did you do?”
My entire life changed.
“In other words, you changed course.”
Yes.
“You recalculated your odds, and then you forged a new path. Isn’t that what we all do?”
I suppose you are correct, Miri Charmwell.
“At some point you have to accept things as they are.”
Then he heard his father’s voice: Magic has its cost. Sometimes, my boy, we must accept it.
The two voices blended together, talking over each other. Then he heard other voices.
Fenroot.
Moss.
Norwyn.
Lucan.
They all talked over each other and Dark couldn’t understand what they were saying.
Miri’s voice began to yell.
“Dark. Dark. Dark!”
He felt the strange need to open his eyes and release himself from it all.
To his surprise, his eyes opened.
The world swam back to him.
He was awake. The dream was over, or at least he hoped it was as the sleepy fog disappeared from his head, allowing his single eye to focus.
He was in his cell. His body ached. Sunlight shone through the skylight window.
His eye was heavy with sleep, and he didn’t know how long he’d slept.
He became aware of his own beating heart. It beat like a hummingbird flapping its wings. A rush of anxiety, fear and hopelessness overcame him until he remembered Miri’s voice.
“At some point you have to accept things as they are,” her voice said.
Dark struggled to remember all the memories he’d been through. But he heard her voice again.
“Dark. Dark. Dark!”
He looked up.
Miri was there, in a wide-brimmed hat with a notebook in her hand, and she was smiling.
- Writer
