Dawn Of Prophecy

Prologue-1

PROLOGUE

Rhys stared vacantly at the grey stone castle standing on the highest peak of Stelladahn, his world. She called the castle Iridian Vale, citing that it was the most beautiful name she could think of at the time. He stared, from the lush green-blue valley below, at the seemingly endless mountain, capped by castle walls and towers. He was there when she decided on the design with the brown dragon architect. He watched as the team of brown dragons used their magic to raise walls from the ground, much like plants from soil.

They claimed the area was so remote no one would dare attack the castle. Even if they did her red dragon army would advance and snuff out any resistance that the invaders offered. Stelladahn had seen an unprecedented level of peace during her reign and he felt crazy to want to see that end.

It must though he thought to himself as his mind flew toward the peak. She ruled, Queen of the Dragonian people, for thirty springs. Rhys thought back to his time with the Queen and his eyes, dark as the sun began setting and the sky turned an ember red, welled with painful tears. They were the best of friends as they grew up and now, he wanted her head.

His mind was filled with images of the destruction of their people, but no one believed him when he said it was Queen Marishka’s fault. They only laughed him out of every tavern in every town that he visited, the fallen hero of the entire planet of Stelladahn. His pain and suffering only fueled their laughter more.

He remembered the day she asked him to stand by her for all eternity. They were happy and loved each other. They bonded in front of the entire kingdom, consummating their love as the kingdom fled to their homes following the ceremony. He swore that he would never betray her, that he would love her for all time.

That had not changed. His love swelled with every breath like he thought hers did, but she had to be stopped. Her ideas would spell the end for everyone on this planet and they would have to find another if she were allowed to continue.

He would be the last of his kind for many winters. The next would be the last for all eternity and he or she would be the downfall of their once-great society. If Marishka were allowed to continue on like she was then all would be lost in only a few natural generations.

That was the problem. Natural generations were no longer allowed to be the only generations. Marishka created a program that the green dragons were happily carrying out on the Queen’s orders.

Soldiers were a mix of mindless red dragons whose sole purpose was to follow the Queen’s orders and those that were created the natural way. Since he left five winters ago, the Queen had bred a large number of red dragons that stood in waiting. They waited until the monarch at the time declared they were needed. They ate, slept, and worked with little regard to their safety.

The Queen herself only filled the ranks that protected her with naturally born dragons, dragons that were pushed from between their mother’s legs. She obsessed with remaining in control and having the largest and greatest army in all dragonian history, but she trusted them only as long as they were housed far away from her. The mindless red dragons, the Birthed as they would come to be known, were the product of a green dragon experiment the Queen felt was necessary.

As he stared at the ridge Rhys considered the fact that he could fly up and attack the castle directly, but he ran the risk of being killed before he could stop the Queen. Though he loved her she needed to be stopped. Failure only meant their people would no longer be allowed to live on in a time that wasn’t too far away in the grand scheme of things.

As Rhys stared at the castle on top of the mountain he realized even if he walked the road to Iridian Vale his presence would be viewed negatively. He disappeared too long ago for the Queen to accept him as they once were, let alone as someone of a peaceful nature. Rumors had spread too far and too wide for him to be viewed as peaceful. His only option was to climb the cliff leading to the castle. Luckily, he would only need to expend a small amount of energy.

He continued on, taking each step as gently as he could. The few miles he would have to walk to reach the cliff face were destined to be filled with thoughts of his treachery. Every step he took on the soft green grass left no print as his hand fluttered through the air. Each dip and bend of the hand caused the grass to revitalize itself and stick straight to the air, like the hair on a person’s arm in the cold.

He loved the power that the green dragons held. The power to bring life into the world, the power to save lives threatened by violence, and the power to feed the masses. They were all about helping, but their power had been perverted by the Queen.

His attempt to dethrone the queen would be viewed as blasphemy by every dragon. The power of the black dragon, paired with the birth rights, showered them with the undying praise and love of the masses. Eventually, they may view him differently, but he would likely not live long enough to see it. Another black dragon had yet to be born and his people would be without guidance until then, or so it was thought.

In all Dragonian history there had never been a gap between black dragon rulers. His steps continued to renew the dark blue-green grass below his feet. What would happen if there were no black dragon on the throne? He questioned himself.

Every step seemed to pull the rock wall closer to him, but his mind still considered the Queen. He exiled himself five winters ago, escaping to the other side of Stelladahn in order to be free of her perversion of the green dragon’s power. It wasn’t enough as her reach swiftly spanned to his front door half the planet away, much like his steps brought him to the rocky surface now standing before him.

His hand stretched to the rough natural wall before him as the sun made its final descent behind the mountain. Up there it’s still going to be light for a while. He thought to himself. His hand lowered, palm open and a platform of dirt and rock formed below him.

The rock freed itself from the earth and rose into the air. His hand was covered in a brown murkiness as the rock slowly elevated him to the sky above. He turned and watched as the land expanded before him.

Forests, lush and green, could be seen for miles around as he continued to raise above the treetop. Above the fields of leafy greens stood snowcapped mountains that stretched far above and beyond the trees, but none stood nearly as tall as the mountain he was moving up. Eventually, shapes moved below him as nocturnal creatures emerged from their homes to seek the sustenance of creatures who struggled in the dark. The sky above turned a deep purple as the pink streaks that it once housed took their final bow for the day, exiting the stage that was now the night sky.

He climbed for the next hour at a slow and steady pace. Rushing would get him nowhere and he would likely collide with the cliff face if he rushed toward the inevitable fate that sprinted toward him. He considered transforming once again. If he decided to take the form of his winged counterpart the brilliant light that his body exhumed would give his position away and they would be waiting for him.

Finally, he turned around and watched as the castle wall emerged before him and he stopped. His right hand remained open and pointing toward the rock that held him high in the sky. Falling now wouldn’t mean certain death in his case, he would simply transform, but he would light the night sky with the brilliant white-purple light that came with each instantaneous transformation.

His left hand raised before him taking on the brown murky shadow that his right was enveloped with. He stretched out toward the wall, stopping only inches from the surface. Granules of grey sand fell from the surface of the wall, falling to the ground and forming a pile. Rhys hand drew an arch and a doorway formed in front of him, sand piling at his boots.

Rhys moved forward as the doorway etched deeper into the wall, each step taking longer than the last. The wall was only a few feet thick, but the conversion from solid stone to dust and sand took more time than he liked. This use of brown dragon magic was common in teams, but he was alone.

A hole opened and he could see a deserted garden before him. He could see potted plants with buds that had closed for their evening respite. A statue stood no more than twenty feet before him as the last grains of sand fell to the ground and he stepped into the garden.

He considered blocking the hole with the rock that carried him up the cliff side before he released the magic and the rock fell back to the earth far below. The first step inside landed on the soft green grass Marishka imported from the southern lands. He was overwhelmed with memories of time spent with her, laying naked in the same grass as they snuggled and caressed each other in the waning sun.

He moved quietly, bent to the ground, pressing himself against the base of the statue. Footsteps could be heard as a red dragon appeared on the tan path that snaked the garden. Rhys watched as the dragon held a hovering flame before him, searching the area for anything out of the ordinary.

The dragon was not one of the mindless Birthed that Marishka had ruined their relationship over Rhys realized. He remembered the day that everything fell apart and the order that ruined it all. Marishka had ordered any Birthed that had experienced battle to be executed when the battle was over.

Rhys had witnessed such an execution during a training session that the warriors of the army held. It was a horrific site from the start as the Birthed faced off against dragons of the army and they fought to a bloody end. The Birthed lost many of their kind, seemingly unaware that they were programmed not to kill, but allowed to be killed themselves.

After the battle, the Birthed lined up in front of regular soldiers who wore red tunics to separate themselves from the grey tunic wearing Birthed. The red tunic dragons raised their hands and drenched the Birthed in fire as screams of pain and suffering filled the air. None mourned the loss of the Birthed as their bodies turned to ash and all that remained were charred skeletons laying in crumpled heaps.

When he returned to the castle he questioned and pleaded with her, only for her to brush off the loss. She told him that they were only tools necessary for war and they had no place in society once used. “I can always make more.” The words echoed through his mind.

Rhys snapped back to reality and watched as the red dragon passed by, moving to the next area. The light faded, leaving only shadows cast by the light of the moon to guide Rhys. Suddenly a root wrapped itself around his legs and he fell to the hard ground as it pulled. “Who are you and how did you get in?” The green dragon hollered, unaware of the hole that was Rhys entry.

The voice emanated from somewhere behind Rhys, but he could see no one. Rhys quickly began unweaving the roots that bound his legs. Almost as soon as they began detangling, they paused, and the voice spoke again. “Ah another green dragon.” And the body emerged from the shadows, a sword drawn and ready to pounce.

Rhys raised a hand creating a barrier between his attacker and himself as the green dragon's sword fell upon the dirt shield. The green dragon stopped for a second, confusion setting in. “Rhys?” He asked his sword resting in the dirt protecting Rhys.

“Aye, and I’d ask who you are, but alas I don’t care.” Rhys replied his hand raising toward the dragon and glowing a bright red, flames flew from his hand.