Cycle of Fire

1 Chapter 1: A Bitter Frost Twenty years after Zathandalous’ attempt to eradicate the human race, the continent of Zannondale had fallen into a period of perceived peace. The Droragorian, thought to be a long-forgotten memory, emerged from their solitary hideouts, embedding themselves into society once again. As a result of the Droragorians newfound confidence, other races of creatures thought to be nothing more than myths and legends, emerged from their hidden corners of the world. With the reemergence of these new cultures, magic soon became more commonplace than ever before, integrating into everyday life, construction, and even the battlefield. Many humans accepted the Droragorian and the newly emergent races as a part of the world. However, a considerable sect of human society refused to accept their new brethren and sisters. After Zathandalous’ fall, the continent experienced two decades of racial intolerance and vicious debate regarding the integration of newly emerging civilizations. The shaky relationship between humans, Droragorian, and the emerging races created societal tensions that simmered beneath the surface. One city known to support the integration of the various races was the moderately sized city of Hinnoc. Known as the city of snow, the peaceful metropolis, located in the northern region of Zannondale, sat nestled atop the snow-covered mountains. A steady tempest of white blanketed the terrain as a bitter winter wailed throughout the frozen region. The ghostly howl of the vicious winds chilled the city’s nightly patrol to their bones. Two sentries kept watch atop the front gate while the city’s inhabitants slept peacefully within the warmth and safety of their homes. The two sentries trembled from the cold, both struggling to brave the whipping storm. The cold burned their faces and their hands had numbed. “This is insane. I–I can’t believe we pulled the night shift,” one of the sentries stuttered. “S–shut up, you i***t,” the other stuttered back, her teeth so cold they would shatter if clenched too hard. “This was your fault for taking that stupid bet at the pub. If you would have kept your mouth shut we would be back at home right now, warm in our beds,” she scorned. “I’m sorry, Lula, but how the hell was I supposed to know that he was a master in combat. I thought I could take him easily.” “You’re such an i***t, Macon! Thanks to your stupidity and quick temper I’m out here freezing my ass off in this storm. I didn’t even know cold like this could exist.” “Well, someone has to keep watch over the city.” “What…from giant snow bears? Perhaps a brisk penguin that lost his way?” Lula said back, her cold lips creasing sarcastically. “Stop complaining and do your job,” Macon replied, rubbing his arms for warmth. Lula scoffed as a frigid breath of air escaped her, rolling her eyes away from her displeased partner. She grunted in frustration and turned her gaze into the distance. Lula squinted, struggling to see through the dense blizzard. The faint outline of a figure moving in the distance caught her eye. She fixed her gaze in the direction of the movement, c*****g her head. The figure stopped moving, standing as still as a statue, looming in the distance. Lula wiped the snow from her eyes and refocused toward the figure. The shadowy mass had disappeared into the blinding storm. Lula felt a sharp pulse of fear rush through her, an uneasiness, one any good watch person would learn to heed. Macon turned toward her blowing into the narrow chasm of his clasped hands. Lula’s brow had dimmed as her eyes searched the blizzard. “Are your eyes starting to hurt. If you want you could end the shift early and bring in the new guy. We’ve yet to break him in,” Macon offered. “N…No. I’m fine. I just thought I saw something.” “What was it?” “I don’t know. I couldn’t see it clearly through the storm, but I thought I saw someone standing in the snow. I wiped my eyes and then it was gone.” “It’s probably your mind playing tricks on you. These storms tend to do that from time to time. If it makes you feel any better I thought I saw a ghost earlier.” Lula turned toward Macon with a skeptical stare. “I’m serious! I saw something out there earlier and it vanished. As a matter of fact, it was quite similar to what you just told me. I thought I was just seeing things. It must be the storm. Even if it were something it was probably just an animal or one of those new monsters people keep talking about,” Macon replied. “They aren’t monsters, Macon. They’re people just like you and me,” Lula defended. “Look, all I know is that ever since the whole incident with that evil dragon lord, many creatures have come out of hiding. I’ll admit, the Droragorian and some of the fairies I’ve seen look human, but some of the new creatures I’ve seen look like monsters. People with horns, wings…hell…I even saw a girl with cat ears and a tail once,” Macon argued. “I suppose the resurgence of the Droragorian people encouraged many other creatures to come out of hiding. You think what we saw could be one of them?” Lula asked. “I don’t know. Like I said, maybe our minds were just playing tricks on–” A warm slap of liquid against Lula’s face startled her from the conversation. Macon’s words had ceased and a mist of blood coated Lula’s face. She wiped her eyes. A cold confusion gripped her as she examined her crimson hands. Her wide eyes realized first, then came the sound. Lula expelled a piercing scream as Macon’s headless body slumped to the ground next to her. She dropped to the ground shuffling away on her wrists, watching Macon’s dark pool of blood leech toward her feet. His severed neck was slightly charred and a faint electrical current crackled near his gaping wound. Lula peered into the white wilderness again. Her eyes darted from shadow to shadow, each bearing a trick of the eye. She felt a presence behind her and turned. Her eyes met the glare of a lost one, a man pushed to great lows of evil. Her eyes widened as his powerful hand grabbed her by the throat. He pulled Lula onto her knees, staring into her eyes. She struggled to breathe, frantically grasping at the vice grip around her throat. He was no ordinary man. Rage drove him. “Yes…that’s it. That’s what I like to see,” the intruder whispered. “Do you feel it…the hopelessness? That’s what my people felt on that day. We were so close to reviving what was wrongfully stolen from us. But today I have been given another chance,” he said from beneath his shadowy black hood. “P–please. I don’t deserve this!” Lula cried. “Funny, I felt the same way when my race was slaughtered by your kind. Where was your mercy then? The Droragorians did not deserve their death sentence.” “I–I wasn’t there. It was a long time ago. Things have changed now,” Lula said coughing. “No! Nothing has changed. The Droragorian have come out of hiding, and despite the lessons of the past, the humans speak of common prejudice. I’ve heard many humans say the Droragorian are monsters, less than human, racially unequal, and expendable. Even though your lives were saved by one of my kind you still damn them.” The man lifted Lula off her knees and into the air, taking delight in her gradual suffocation, evident by her weakening attempts to escape. “I…I can’t breathe. Please…” Lula cried. The man pulled back his hood. A faint scar remained on his face from his most fateful of encounters, three gashes that once bled with defeat. “I still see it,” Orthenius began. “The fear from the humans is still as ripe today as it was all those years ago. You humans are a cowardly lot. I know that you will not accept the Droragorian, or any of the creatures that have revealed themselves, despite the heroic actions of a few. Humans are as predictable as death itself. You will destroy any and everything that you deem a threat to your survival. To you, that threat is any kind that isn’t yours.” “No…that’s not true,” Lula whispered. “My best friend is a Droragorian…she lives in Dragon Claw.” “Oh…well hold on a moment,” Orthenius replied, his eyes and tone rife with sarcasm. “You have one Droragorian friend. That must make you a saint, huh? You’ve done your part, right? Given your charity to those beneath you whom you deem lower, right?” “No…that’s not what I meant…she’s my friend…!” Lula replied, this time with more conviction. “Save it. I gave you people a chance and you murdered us. I cannot allow that to happen ever again,” Orthenius proclaimed. He pressed his hand against Lula’s chest and looked up at her shimmering eyes. They were honest…and he knew it, yet he didn’t care. He was driven by rage, a place where logic may never banish the folly of the foolish. “P…please…no,” Lula whispered. “My people begged too. Their cries went unheard,” he replied. “Not…any…more,” Lula whispered, her voice so strained it could vanish in a mere moment. Orthenius paused and his gaze slid toward the snow. The rage faltered. It was only for a moment, but something had reached him. It was reason. But even reason is a slave to rage in dire times of the mind. As quickly as it had come, the moment was gone. His eyes slid from the pure white snow to the crimson patch of Macon’s blood, then back toward Lula with a renewed wrath that would be her undoing. “Liar…” he whispered, knowing full well the paradox in his response. Orthenius propelled a piercing bolt of lightning through Lula’s chest and hurled her into the snow below. Lula shrieked as she fell. A racing current of electricity swirled around his hand, soon fizzling out with a snapping pop. He rested his hands behind his back as he walked toward the edge of the lookout, panning across the sleeping city with cold malice. “Ah, the city of Hinnoc. One of the shining beacons of the human race.” He closed his eyes, concentrating his energy, inhaling a breath of bitter frost to calm his racing mind. A powerful surge of electricity welled up deep within and wrapped around his body like a crackling serpent. Bolts of electricity jolted toward a nearby tower, destroying the roof with a single explosive strike. Orthenius leaped down from the high wall and concealed himself in a nearby alleyway. The debris from the tower crashed into the roof of a small church below it. The thunderous noise awakened many sleeping townsfolk in the vicinity, sending them flooding into the street with whispers in tow. “What the hell was that?” An old woman yelled, stroking her grey feline. “I don’t know. There’s rubble all over the place. I think the chapel tower collapsed,” a young man replied. The sound of crackling resonated nearby, alerting the growing crowd. The curious inhabitants searched their surroundings for the source of the noise. “Where is that sound coming from?” A gentleman from the crowd asked. One of the city dwellers noticed a faint light flickering in the nearby alley. The people fell silent and their eyes all settled toward the young man in the front. It was a silent appointment, one the man realized as he turned to face the crowd of worried faces. “I’ll go check it out,” the young man murmured. He crept toward the shadowy crevice in between the buildings, towards the sound of crackling. Brief lightning flashes created moments of illumination as the civilian approached the alleyway entrance. He peered into the void, squinting his eyes. The flashes of light stopped and a wall of darkness greeted the curious investigator. “What do you see?” A fellow city dweller asked. “Nothing. I don’t see anything. It’s just an empty alleyway.” The young man heard growling resonating from within the darkness and backed away. Two glowing blue eyes appeared within the black, stopping the young man in his tracks. “It’s a monster,” the man said, stumbling away. Orthenius transformed into a monstrous dragon, destroying the alleyway concealing him as his body grew. The young man ran screaming toward the group of city dwellers gathered in the street. “Run! Run!” Orthenius’ body reduced the surrounding buildings to rubble as he emerged from the darkness of the alley. He stomped into the center of the street expelling a dominant roar that carried for miles. The pedestrians were so stunned they stood frozen before scattering into the streets. Orthenius propelled streaking beams of electrical energy toward nearby shops and homes as the terrified citizens fled the charring attacks. Orthenius spotted a group of fleeing citizens and expelled a crackling bolt of lightning toward the innocent escapees. The powerful attack hurled the citizens into the air, scattering their lifeless bodies into the streets. Orthenius extended his wings and catapulted himself into the sky. Many of the city’s people ran toward the castle of Hinnoc to take refuge within its thick walls of protection. Orthenius leveled out above the city and continued to propel devastating bolts of lightning that decimated entire areas of the city. The snowy metropolis had quickly descended into a state of chaos as people ran through the streets screaming and trampling each other. Orthenius soared toward the castle of Hinnoc, decimating the east tower with a piercing burst of lightning. The castle trembled as the tower collapsed into the living quarters below. Orthenius roared and circled around for another pass. The storm began to intensify and an eerie high-pitched howl whistled through the mountain air. With every scorching attack, the city fell further into chaos and ruin. At the castle of Hinnoc the city’s leader, Lord Curien, watched atop his balcony. He saw the fires burning in the distance, heard the shrieking of his citizens in the streets. “Sir, we are under attack! It’s a dragon, sir!” one of the castle guards informed. “I can see that. I find apocalyptic explosions hard to miss. We must focus all of our forces on that dragon. We have to get him out of the air. Ready the cannons and ground the bastard,” Curien ordered. The guard nodded and raced to inform the city’s military of the orders. Curien’s fingers curled around the balcony ledge with gritted teeth, watching Orthenius fly overhead and land in the street. Orthenius looked down at the terrified stampede, lifting his giant foot. He stomped his clawed appendage against the snowy streets, crushing a group of fleeing pedestrians. One of the civilian’s legs had been crushed by the powerful stomp. The wounded man struggled to crawl away as his leg dangled by a sliver of flesh. Orthenius watched the frantic citizen pull himself across the snow-covered street, his bloody nub leaving a trail of crimson behind him. Orthenius gently pressed his foot against the crawling man and tapped his back with one of his talons, taunting his pained prey. “Please…don’t kill me!” the man cried. Orthenius didn’t respond and impaled the man through the back. The man exhaled as Orthenius’ sharp claw sank into his flesh and his life slipped away. Orthenius swung his tail into the crowd, sending throngs of people scattering into the air. Curien watched in horror as the bodies of his city’s citizens crashed into distant buildings. Orthenius began grabbing civilians with his claws and hurling them across the city, testing how far they could fly. His rage was ruthless. “This is unthinkable!” Curien cried. He looked toward the front gates of the castle where his forces gathered for an attack. “Damn it, stop him! Stop him now while he is on the ground!” Curien screamed. Orthenius heard Curien’s voice as he c****d his arm, ready to launch a terrified young man through the air. Orthenius set his sights on Curien, lowering his arm. His fierce blue eyes terrified Curien. The king felt the coldest chill he ever had, even amidst the bone-shattering frost of the northern wilds. Orthenius calmly tossed the man in his claws over his shoulder and began to trot toward the castle. The angry dragon maintained eye contact with Curien as he approached, gaining speed with each cycle of his powerful stride. “Stop him! Stop him, now!” Curien screamed. “Take him down!” The military general ordered, signaling a barrage of magically charged cannons and arrows. The hail of arrows ricocheted upon contact with Orthenius’ resilient scales. The crafty dragon weaved between the humming beams of magical energy, evading each with a smile as he continued his charge toward the castle. “Light him up!” the General yelled. The archers lit fire to their arrows as a second squad of novice sorcerers and mages stepped to the front lines. The falling arrows of fire embedded themselves into the ground as Orthenius weaved toward the castle, missing their target by inches. The sorcerers released wisping spells of elemental magic toward the encroaching dragon while the mages supported from behind with book bound spells. Orthenius countered their magical energies with periodic bolts of lighting, successfully negating their wizardry. He chuckled, still maintaining eye contact with Curien above. “My lord…he’s going to kill me…” the scared king whispered. “Damn it, stop him, now!” Curien ordered, growing more fearful with each advance of the furious dragon. “Charge him now!” the General beckoned. A wall of warriors rushed forward to confront Orthenius as he neared the castle gates. Orthenius opened his mouth and propelled a devastating bolt of arcing lightning that jumped from soldier to soldier until they had been reduced to ash. The raging dragon charged through the wall of ash and proceeded toward the castle, a swirl of the dead and snow kicking into the air around the beast. Curien stood in disbelief above, stunned from the devastating attack. Orthenius took an exaggerated step, braced his legs, and leaped into the air toward the balcony, flapping his wings to aid in his ascent. Orthenius crashed through the balcony, snagging Curien in his powerful claws in the process. Curien beat against the dragon’s thick hide, screaming whatever expletive came to mind. Orthenius pinched Curien’s face with his claws and turned his head, forcing him to watch the city burn in the distance. A brief break in the swirling storm befell the city, revealing the destroyed metropolis of flames in the distance. “Look at your beloved city now. It looks better this way, don’t you think? The smell of cinder and burning flesh. The feelings of despair and hopelessness.” “No…no…this is…cruel. How could you do this?” the king murmured. “I asked the very same question, once. And to that, I give my answer.” Orthenius’ wyvern head leaned closer to the quivering king. His snout expelled a huff of hot air. “This is how you made me feel,” Orthenius replied. Curien’s saddened eyes panned across the ruined city. “Why? We have no qualms with the Droragorian,” Curien pleaded. “No qualms, you say? You and your kind are well versed in deception, are you not? You welcome us with open arms, only to betray us at every turn. You will never accept our kind. You didn’t then and you won’t now.” “That’s not true,” Curien lashed back, his eyes filling with conviction. “We were saved by your kind twenty years ago. I’m willing to bet that you were a part of the group of rogue Droragorian that tried to kill us all. But that’s over now. It’s in the past. Ever since then, the Droragorian have emerged from their hiding. Many other races, as well. We mean no harm. We can move past this and learn to live together. Please, just give us a chance,” Curien pleaded. “The last time we trusted humans our entire race was reduced to a myth.” “It’s different now! We can learn from the mistakes of the past. We will learn to accept you. Please just give us a chance. You have to see the irony in your words. Please…just give us a chance…” Orthenius hesitated again and his glance fell away. It had come back…his reason. The image of his mother’s smiling face flashed through his mind and just as quickly his reason had come…it had gone. A sudden swell of hatred consumed him again and his eyes slid back toward the king, filled with malice. “No,” Orthenius whispered. Orthenius tightened his grip. Curien screamed as Orthenius bent his bones. The furious dragon flexed his fist and shattered Curien’s body into a crumpled shell. Curien moaned and went limp. Orthenius dangled Curien’s broken body over the ruined balcony and released him. He watched Curien’s limp body fall to the snowy ground below. The storm had subsided and the city fell quieter than it ever had. The snow-covered streets lay stained in a hue of red. Orthenius raised his head and released a guttural roar that shook the entire castle. Maya awoke from her horrific dream screaming. She clutched her chest, panting heavily, drenched in a fresh layer of fearful sweat. She had become familiar with the crippling sensations of dizziness and fear waking her in the wee hours. Dastan was jolted awake by the sound of her scream. Out of instinct, he formed a crystal-studded shield against his forearm, shielding Maya from whatever harm would come her way. His eyes darted around the room in search of intruders. He soon realized that the room was empty and that Maya was trembling. He smiled as the crystals dissolved back into his skin and wrapped his arm around his frightened heart. “You okay?” Dastan asked. Maya continued to pant as he pulled her closer. “Bad dreams?” Maya nodded. “A vision?” he asked. Maya stared into Dastan’s eyes as if she were savoring every second before replying. “It’s starting again. I think Orthenius has…” she replied, pausing. “Why now? It’s been twenty years?” “I don’t know.” Maya rested her head against Dastan’s chest and closed her eyes. He wrapped both arms around her, gently stroking her hair to calm her rattled nerves. “What did you see?” Dastan asked. “Something terrible has happened.” “Tell me,” he whispered. Maya recounted her nightmarish vision to Dastan, knowing full well that the worst had already come to pass.