Bloodmorn

Bloodmorn was accepted into the Valebane Clan rather recently. He called himself a healer. The clan needed more healers. For a while, everything was right within Valebane.

It wouldn't last. An unfamiliar voice was heard one morning. It was a voice that seemed to carry many voices in a hissing, groaning tone. It was Rabia who saw it first: an Emperor, speaking with Bloodmorn. She silently left and fetched her brother Kyrmis, a healer and the clan's Ice ambassador. They waited in secret for the meeting to end. One of the many heads of the Emperor was cast in the siblings' direction. Shivers went down their spines; even the most courageous of dragons would surely succumb to terror as those glowing eyes sized them up.

But it didn't attack. It noticed them. It didn't attack. This undead beast had somehow managed to retain at least some restraint and certainly a great level of sentience.

It was the same every morning: a meeting with the Emperor on the border of Plague and Arcane lands. Kyrmis elected to alert the Matriarch, putting aside any fear that he may very well die at the teeth of the Emperor. The Matriarch, the Queen of Bones, the Witch of the Wastes - she goes by many names, but the clan calls her Lady Marre - confronted Bloodmorn angrily.

Bloodmorn smiled.

"I see you have become aware of my mother's presence. Do not be alarmed, Witch. She only wishes to help."

"Help... with what?" Lady Marre questioned skeptically.

"Healing, my dear."

The conversation was over when Bloodmorn walked away with a certain pride in his step, leaving Lady Marre speechless for some time until she managed a squeak: "Kyrmis, follow him." The icy Coatl nodded solemnly and flew off, maintaining a safe distance between him and Bloodmorn. The rogue Imperial reached the Mire. A herd of wetland unicorns scampered away, leaving only a few mossy cerdae, all of them rising to walk beside Bloodmorn as if he sung to them. They led him to their fallen comrade: a mossy cerdae that had lost its last battle.

"I know you are back there, Kyrmis," Bloodmorn called out calmly. "So come out in the open, why don't you? Come see how my magic prevails where yours fails."

Although Kyrmis' pride was damaged by the Imperial's remark, he let Bloodmorn off with a hiss and a glare as he came in to land. And he watched. His bones shook at the eerie vibe Bloodmorn's presence brought, but he watched. He watched as Bloodmorn spoke in a language surely unfamiliar to most living dragons; Kyrmis had the feeling that it was ancient.

The deceased cerdae opened its eyes. They were glassy and held no sign of life. It got to its feet and fell in line with Bloodmorn's other followers. "You see?" Bloodmorn chuckled.

"Nothing to be afraid of..."