For Better or For Worse

Zeke

The caves sparkled slightly in morning mist, sunlight glinting upon shimmering sapphire crystals which hung as stalactites from each ledge. It was a breathtaking scene – one that could be enjoyed by each member of the dragon family each day.

Somewhere within the cave, water trickled down the sides into a fountain, pooling at the springs of life, said to be the mythical source of the Horned Tail’s immortality. The shimmer of sunlight penetrating through the canyon set those pools of water sparkling like diamonds, only to eventually disappear and be forgotten when trodden upon by man.

Zeke’s head snapped up against the cave wall, his fragile being pushing against whatever there was of the stone, careful not to stir the Wyverns which lay fast asleep at his feet. He had fallen to slumber the previous night, having not succeeded in his studies. He had stood in that same cave for hours, staring as adventurers passed, felling dragon after dragon in their wake. To Zeke it was a display of mass spiritual massacre: he did not see the outline of a dragon. He saw intertwining hands of spirit, soul and body clinging onto dear life while humans hacked away at those bonds, forcing Wyverns into oblivion. The majestic creatures had given themselves to the skies without so much as a fight; Zeke had been tempted to blast those people to kingdom come.

They never did realise the beauty and the spirit of the dragon that was essential to letting man live in a world so fraught with danger and sadness.

“It’s simple. Just look, observe, and learn. Don’t get yourself involved.” His mind was calm as he treaded across solid ground, elemental shoes trailing magic in copious amounts, leaking energy sucked back through the balls of his feet, maintaining the balance that Magicians had fought so hard to preserve. If there was something Zeke could appreciate about the Black Magician, it was that he knew how important the balance of the world was in maintaining it. Despite his intentions, the much sought-after villain could actually appreciate the finer details that did hold everything together. Everything was about balance.

Everything.

Zeke maintained his foothold on the ledge, turning the corner to the canyon, his face rigid without shock. A dark Wyvern had turned, screeching its battle cry in a voice Zeke knew, launching itself fully into his being. How he wished he could tell it that he came in peace. How he wished he could have had greeted it in reply, instead forming acquaintances as to discover the magic behind the dragon’s breath of life. How he wished that the balance could, for one, exempt such a beautiful creature from death.

Zeke had given his toes a twirl around his body in full circle, faeries blooming from the ground, covering him in their blessing and guard. Magic erupted from the ground as a pillar of pink light and a scattering of golden glitter, hanging in the air with threads of time. His whispered word of thanks were interrupted as the Wyvern slammed straight into the Bishop’s body, causing him to double over with impact, his mouth open with a silent yell.

Zeke gathered himself, brushing his coat and getting to his feet, weary of the dragon which pawed the ground several feet away. The man swept black tresses into his flat cap, holding his simple wand to face the Wyvern. His face steeled, and the dragon backed slightly at his command of the atmosphere. It gave a feeble growl, then a full roar for what it was, flinging its full weight onto the Bishop. He sighed as he looked at the chains fastening down the dragon’s life to its body.

His fingers let out a clear, resounding snap, flinging nothing into thin air away from himself, open palm sweeping forward. Six claws of blue energy erupted, marking as scratches across the dragon, letting it drawl in a full-fledged screech. Zeke could see it now – the chains shattered like glass, the body of the black Wyvern slumping to the ground in too easy a defeat. The Bishop could not help but watch warily. He knew what was going to happen. He’d seen it multiple times before. All he needed to do now was to capture the essence of it.

There! That bright flash of light. He squinted his eyes to look.

The spirit drifted upwards, the soul clinging as both formless aspects of the intangible threatened to give way. The shattered pieces of chain had gathered in a small whirlwind – unseen by many – and locked themselves into place. The spirit was dragged down back to the soul, chained stronger than ever. The Wyvern had suddenly given a jolt of excitement, yawning as if it had been merely asleep. Zeke’s mind was tasting the energies that coalesced amongst the life of the Wyvern, his hands drawing in familiar magic that explained the phenomena of nature. His head buzzed with excitement, sampling knowledge he had already known for so long existed, but that had continued to keep its mystery within itself.

Sinewy muscles flexed as his hands drew in the energy of the Wyvern, condensing into pure bright light into the Bishop’s palm. The manipulation of energies was no mean feat, but to Zeke it was as easy as having a cup of tea. Any person of the fourth caste of Magicians that was worth his or her salt would have had known that.

The dragon gave a roar that spoke of betrayal, its streamlined form charging through the air straight towards the same man, this time faster.

“More knowing now, eh? Well, let’s see about that,” Zeke muttered under his cold voice, drawing an invisible arrow from the air as he pulled back. A bow had dissolved into his hands from the air, shimmering gold and sparkling with light. Glowing white feathers surrounded the bow in four wings. The Dark Wyvern hesitated, yet continued to charge across the ledge, closing the gap between man and beast. Zeke watched carefully, his eyes narrowing, his figure poised and dangerous. The dragon did not heed the subtle warning.

It was not like Zeke to hesitate, but he felt the need to grant this creature a few more seconds of its newfound breath of life. His logic and mindset were questionable, but he continued to hold, choosing instead of focus his mind on another spell while holding his weapon in place. A great circle of light formed, intricacies in detail shifting and continuously warped to form incantations of a spell held on his lips. He threw the words to the ground as the atmosphere grew tense.

There was a sudden swoosh of air, the atmosphere hardening around the dragon. It had sensed the imbalance in the environment, still choosing not to hold back. It was so close to devouring the man who had taken away its life once. The Wyvern was not going to let him do it again. There he was – holding his bow in his hands – still and ready to accept his death for insulting the children of the dragon. Its hate-filled eyes were glazed with the madness of bloodlust.

Zeke snapped his bow string with a low hum, the arrow flying towards the dragon with blinding speed, leaving a trail of sparkling magic that only the faeries could have had been bothered to posses. The spear of light crashed into the dragon with a mere cackle, like water splashing against a rock wall, bathing it in a warm light. It continued to fly forward, the tip of its snout touching Zeke’s outstretched palm.

“Angelus Lux Lucis, Praemium is perfeci mortis.”

The canyon shook and shuddered as if the hand of God had stretched out to strike the nest, stalactites raining down from ledges upon ground like rain upon a blue desert. Wyverns screeched, awakened from their sleep. The air solidified with energy, sucked towards the void created by the power held in such a small materialization of divinity. Zeke shielded his eyes, the Dark Wyvern calling out in help for its brethren. He saw clearly again the soul-chain snap into a million fragments, this time scattering all over the canyon. Another small blast of light ensued, but half the chain particles materialised, leaving the spirit to float away, drifting endlessly as the soul withdrew its hold upon the spirit, letting it free into the recesses of above.

Blue rocks had been bathed yellow for the entire spectacle, the heavens tearing open as if to scream their hatred at the world. It was all light and white, the Bishop basking in the brightness of it all, bathing in the warmth of his temporal limelight as he felt the body of the Wyvern dissolve into dust.

“Back into the earth, whence it was once made. Es gibt ruhe in der Welt.” His voice carried slowly across the ground, heard only by Wyverns across the deep rumbling and cracking of open ground. His breath had tasted sweet, smelling of fresh grass and rain.

The air screamed and tore into a final explosion, sending rays of light from the ground up into the sky in great pillars of blue, breaking past the clouds like an omen to an apocalypse.

Zeke’s expression remained placid, his palms still outstretched as he withdrew his arms, his hand encapsulating the multi-coloured facets of a Magic Rock. His fingers crushed it easily, the blood that he drew falling to the ground in droplets of vermillion, pooling at his feet. Icy rock was stained red, the earth shaking again as fading footsteps disappeared with the slamming of a door.

The Dragon Canyon fell into silence once more, Wyverns oblivious to the plight of their missing brother.

In Ludibrium a familiar figure stood atop the Helios tower, squinting as he saw three beams of light penetrating from the Dragon’s Nest in Leafre.

“Now that’s what I call a spectacle,” he murmured in amazement, watching as pillars of energy in the distance broke through the crowds, letting them swirl around as if awaiting the final sign of the coming of the Time Goddess. The Night Lord whistled and unknowingly held his breath. The world seemed to freeze in that position, the Retz having stopped their incessant squeaking, the adventurers ceasing their killing sprees and the locals watching the skies in bated breath.

The light was so beautiful, so magnificent, so extraordinary. The whole of Ludibrium held their lives in frozen time, watching, waiting to see what happened. A bird chirped, flying past the city, wondering what happened to everyone as they stood still.

Nothing happened.

“So the world isn’t going to explode then? Oh well,” he sighed, leaping off the tower in what was his current favourite hobby – free falling, his body disappearing with each breath he took, until the only things left where once a Night Lord had been were fragments of a scroll, burnt to ashes.

A/N: I’m keeping this short and simple, approximately 2k words per chapter for readability and ease of reviewing. Do understand that everything is slowly condensing into one storyline which they will inevitably be involved.