Descendant of the Dragon - Prologue

Prologue

She could hear the wind roar from the mountain tops behind them. She couldn’t feel the wind’s touch, which meant that the mountains were a long way behind them, which relieved her to no end. To her frail nine year old body, the trek through the Southern Mountains was the worst thing she had ever experienced. But now they were almost at the mainland, Daelora. Finally, she could rest at a normal bed at an inn, somewhere, and not in her family’s caravan, sleeping with three other kids on the rough rugs and hard wood that they called their bed. Oh how she longed for a good night’s rest…

Her parents were traders, following in their parent’s footsteps, and every single person in her family was a trader as well, always moving around the continent, trying to sell their goods to make a living. They were by no means poor, they were probably the richest nomads on this side of the planet, but her family always preferred the nomad lifestyle, instead of the ‘boring citizen life’ as they called it.

They were now passing through the Daeloran wastelands, just a few kilometers off the borders of the citizen kingdom of Daelora, Tryghav. The sun was burning down on them, and the sickly gray soil was burning her feet with heat. For all the sun above them, however, the wastelands were the darkest, most gloom filled place she had ever visited. The heated soil beneath her feet had long since cracked from the heat. The sky above them seemed dark as if filled with clouds, but not a single cloud was in sight. Wild grass had grown sporadically, but that was the only sign of life in the vast wasteland. She hadn’t seen a single animal, be it small, or large, and she wasn’t wondering why. She doubted any animal would actually choose to live in such a sad place. She turned to her left, her eyes forming narrow lines as she squinted, trying to see if she could spot any wild animals.

“Tayla, hurry up! You’re falling behind!” she heard her mother yell. Her neck snapped to the direction of the voice.

She noticed that she was indeed a long way from the caravan. It wasn’t her fault that she had short legs! She ran as fast as her small legs could go, trying desperately to catch up to the caravan. As she ran, she caught some movement in a nearby bush, its existence already a strange occurrence in the dead wasteland. She stopped running, and slowly edged closer to the bush, intent on finding the source of the movement. As her feet reached the end of the bush, she felt something hairy run in between her feet. Jumping slightly in surprise, she turned, and saw a sickly-looking, grey rabbit running away. Something compelled her to run after it, despite the danger of doing so. She had been longing to see another form of life except plants and her family for so long, she wasn’t going to let this one get away. She looked hesitantly at the slowly moving caravan, before shaking her head and taking off after the rabbit, leaving her family’s caravan behind her. Nobody noticed her leave…

She felt the hot air of the wasteland rush against her face as she chased after the sickly rabbit, her black pigtails waving behind her. She tried to push herself to run faster, but the rabbit was even faster. Her feet were aching and she could feel the burning in her soles worsen as she continued to run, but she paid it no mind, her only thought being the sickly rabbit running ahead of her. After a while though her body had reached its limit, and she could only watch as the rabbit disappeared from her view, her feet slowly moving to a slow walk as she tried to catch her breath. As sweat poured down her face, she turned to the direction she hoped the caravan was in, but she saw nothing except the never ending gray soil. No road and certainly no caravan in sight. By now she was sure that her mother was worried sick, and her friends were searching for her to play with them. But that didn’t matter now, as she was lost in the wasteland, and she didn’t have anything to eat or drink. The wasteland seemed like the most inhospitable place to get lost in, but she had managed to do it nonetheless.

Her train of thought was interrupted, as she heard a crack from beneath her feet. Before she had any time to react, the ground disappeared and she felt herself being thrown into the void. She started screaming as she fell toward the darkness below her, sure that her life was over. An image of her mother and her father, and all her friends behind them flashed in front of her eyes, before she closed them, waiting for the end.

She landed with a loud thud, but she didn’t feel the pain that she had expected to feel. Shaking slightly, she moved her hand to feel the ground beneath her, and she sensed something similar to sand caress her palms. She looked around as her eyes slowly got used to the sudden darkness. The light coming from the cracked ground above her helped her eyes adjust to her surroundings. Said eyes slowly widened, as she stood up.

The hole that she thought she had fallen in turned out to be a walkway. The walkway itself seemed untouched by man for hundreds of years. The sand slowly faded to reveal a pavement seemingly made of stone bricks, but the brick had deteriorated through time, making the material almost unrecognizable. Dust of uncounted ages had accumulated on the walls, yet she could still make out the carvings that they were filled with. The age old carvings were in a language probably long forgotten to mankind, but in between the words of the strange language, she could see drawings of all sorts, her eyes struggling to absorb everything in sight. The drawings mixed well with the words, creating an intricate language that absorbed her into following its path through the strange walkway. She traced the carvings as she walked, stopping to inspect some that interest her. Soon, words disappeared completely, and all carvings were now drawings of different scenes. She saw drawings of the sun over armies of figures that were fighting against each other. One side seemed to be winning as it steadily grew in number, and strange new figures appeared in the vicinity of the figured army, towering over the other figures. The sun moved closer to the armies as the carvings went on, until it disappeared completely, being replaced by a large moon. The steadily growing army took apart the opposing, far smaller army. Soon she saw a drawing of a fort, and a sigil she recognized above it. The triangular shield, surrounded by three drops of blood, the sigil of Tryghav, the citizen kingdom. Her eyes widened slowly, as the drawings depicted Tryghav getting slowly destroyed by the figured army. The drawings slowly faded into nothing, and she was left wondering what happened after that.

Her walking came to a halt as she noticed that her way was blocked by some kind of door. She moved her hand to inspect the obstacle in front of her. The door was made out of a black stone and it was covered in carvings like the walls of the walkway, but these carvings seemed much clearer, as if untouched by time. Three hooded figures could be seen on each side of the door’s splitting point. They were all raising their cloaked hands, pointing towards something. She moved her eyes to the direction that the hands were pointing to, and she saw a seventh figure, with the splitting point of the door running through the middle of it. All the figured were surrounded by a thick circle and the sigil of Tryghav was visible below the circle, the figured army destroyed around the sigil. She moved her hands to touch the door, wanting to see for herself how the strange stone felt. As soon as her flesh touched the cold, black stone, she felt a sting on her fingertips, but before she had time to look at what had hurt her, the stone door started to move on its own, opening slowly, revealing what was behind. Her eyes widened slowly, as a red light shone on her, temporarily blinding her.

She was standing on the entrance of a circular room. The room was made with the same black stone that the door was made out of. The domed ceiling was barely visible to her eyes, as if all the radiance from the light that blinded her got lost in the abyss above. The walls were devoid of any carvings, the polished black stone stretching around the room without a single bump. The floor of the room had lines running all over it, creating all sorts of weird shapes that all lead to the middle of the room. There, a thick stone pedestal stood alone, the only thing in the room besides her. Atop the pedestal’s flat surface there was a stone box. The box was emanating with a strange red glow, the same red glow that blinded her when she entered the room. The line created by the lid was what where the glow escaped from. She edged closer to the box, mesmerized by the lights dancing around her eyes. Her mind didn’t even register the sound of the door closing behind her, completely shutting her off from the world.

She looked at it with wide eyes, inspecting every single quality of it. It was made with the same black stone as the rest of the room, but the box didn’t have a speck of dust on it. It seemed, like the door, untouched by time, as if something was repelling any trace of time from its surface. It was filled with carvings as well, but no drawings were present here. The strange, forgotten language that she had seen on the walls of the walkway was present on the box’s surface, covering most of it. The parts that weren’t covered in the strange language were covered in even stranger carvings surrounded by circles, much like the blood magic runes her grandmother used to study from her library of ancient books. Her curiosity peaked, and she slowly started moving her hands towards the lid of the box, as if in a trance. She gripped the edges of the lid, and used all her strength to lift the heavy stone.

As soon as the lid moved, she felt something push against it, and her heart clenched with fear. Before she had time to react however, the force grew even larger, and the lid was blown off of her hands. It flew towards the ceiling of the room, getting lost in its darkness, the sound of it shattering being heard a few moments later. Her eyes moved back to the stone box, and she stared at it with wide eyes. The box started to shake, before a black mist like substance flew out of it, landing on one side of the room. One by one, six different forms flew out of the box, making the whole room darken with the black mist like substance. She fell to the ground, terrified, as she saw the shades slowly morph into the same figures she had seen on the doors of the room. The six figures circled around her, leaving her in the middle, unable to move. One of the figures turned to her slowly, and even though she couldn’t see a face, she knew that it was staring right into her soul. Ragged breathing could be heard another figure, and as the others slowly turned to it, it spoke in some unknown language that sounded foreign to her ears, as if it wasn’t even human. The figures turned to her, and they started chanting in the same language that the first one had spoken in. The sound of their voices made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, and she felt chills run through her body.

She felt a cold sensation overcome her body, and as she looked around, she noticed that she was being lifted above the ground but nothing seemed to be lifting her. She thrashed around, screaming frantically as she tried to get away from the hellish sensation that had overcome her. Her movements came to a halt as she noticed, her eyes filled with terror, that one of the figures was walking, or floating, towards her.

The hooded figure raised its cloaked arm. The cloth was slowly pushed back to reveal a horrid, clawed hand. Its skin was gray, and it seemed to drip, covered by a slimy substance. The tips of the claws flashed bright red for a moment and the figure pulled its hand back, as if pulling on a string. She didn’t have time to wonder about what the creature seemed to be doing as she felt an excruciating pain in her chest. She slammed her eyes shut as she screamed in agony.

A stream of blood was flowing from the centre of the little girl’s chest, flying towards the creature’s clawed hand. Her body bent forward, as if the stream of blood was pulling her with it.

Over the course of the next few seconds, the stream of blood grew even thicker, her body emptying every single drop of blood it had in it. Her screaming came to a halt as her body eased up, flowing limply in the air. Her skin shrank and clung to her body, making her seem a thousand years older, her form hovering up in the air, lifeless.

The blood was now floating around the room, creating a dome above the hooded figures. Through all this, they were still chanting in their unknown language, continuing their ritual. The figure with the clawed hand returned to its place in the circle. As soon as it reached its initial position, all the figures kneeled at the same time. The blood dome above their heads compressed slightly, before exploding inwardly, washing them with blood. All the blood that touched them was absorbed instantly into their bodies, as if bypassing their cloaks. The remaining blood splattered across the black stone floor, creating a large pool of blood below the girl’s hovering figure. The figures stopped their chanting, and in a single motion, sunk into six pools of blood. The room flashed a bright red as the pools of blood disappeared, sinking into the black rock.

The room was dead silent for a moment. Then, in a soft thud, the silence was broken by the little girl’s figure falling into the pool of blood below her, a sickening splash accompanying the fall. The room was silent once more…