Vice

The silence was deafening. The sun bled slowly into the Telain forest, seeping it’s warmth into the thick brush like a virus infecting the landscape with a contemptuous fever. Life bloomed in the face of the red orb hanging low and fierce in the alabaster sky. Sounds started filling the forest, tentative at first - as if testing the demeanour of the virulent sun – then openly defying the chill left by a night filled with murder and betrayal.

A sound rose in the heart of the forest, a cry of booming outrage, a breath of fire spilled menacingly from a beast unmatched in its fury. It echoed in the morning light, entwining itself into the sound of the trickling stream and serenading songbirds. A voice so devastating it shook the earth to its core, proclaiming its promise for revenge in bursts of thunderous pitch. No fury could ever match that moment of pain suffocated within the wailing echo now dying slowly between the trunks of ancient trees. No anger has ever been stronger. No vendetta would ever console the loss suffered. No soul can soften the suffering of the most dangerous animal to walk the earth: a mother scorned.


Hidden, almost abandoned between the lush green leaves of a flowering shrub lay an egg. A gleaming hue of loneliness emanated from it as it slowly broke apart. Tiny cracks formed on its lavender surface, barely disturbing the silence that followed the blood-curdling scream that filled the air only moments before. The cracks grew quietly, cautiously breaking the visage of the orb-like egg. A deep purple eye surveyed the surrounding foliage with a curiosity tinged in hues of wary alertness. As if moving through water, the miniscule dragon emerged from the remains of his smooth prison. Confused, dazed and afraid, the dragon swayed back on forth on his weak newly-hatched claws. Thoughts had not formed in his raw mind yet, every colour a new experience, every smell an intimation of danger, every sound an alarm. The tiny green dragon took his first step, a step that would mark the start of a journey spanning hundreds of years and prophesised hundreds of years before.

Vice. It was an easy name. Simple, powerful. It was the name given to him by the druid-dragon that found him wandering the Telain forest mere days after his birth. There was an elegance to ‘Vice’, a simplicity belying the complex thoughts that churned through Vice’s mind on a daily basis. The druid-dragon, Meese, trained Vice in the subtle art of Nature Magic. Drawing on the power of the wild they healed the forest, nursed the animals of the Telain and conjured brilliant lights in the chilled night sky.

But Vice was curious, Vice needed to experiment. He had a hunger for knowledge, a thirst for adventure and a desperate need to fill the unexplainable void in his heart. Taking his secret fantasies to his only confidante and friend, Meese, Vice feared his response. But the old dragon had seen Vice’s restlessness, had sensed his urge to be more than Meese could ever teach him to be and had glimpsed the underlying talent in the young dragon. With an aged smile and a voice like cracking Autumn-leaves Meese told Vice the words he would never forget : “Go, young dragon, spread your wings and let the wind take you where your soul belongs. Fill yourself with the world, satisfy your yearning for a complete life because age, even for a dragon, can make a fool of oneself. I see greatness in your eyes, a fervent passion matched by only your humility. Be kind, be open and be yourself. May your every endeavour become an adventure and may you never forget me, a humble druid that found a son in you.”