Blood

Blood.
The word evokes a certain kind of imagery. Violence. Wounds. Warriors on a battlefield. Dripping claws, shredded wings. Death.

It's not usually a name. And especially not a name for someone as mild, as peaceful, as the one it was bestowed upon. But his parents didn't know that when they gave it to him.

Blood failed to live up to the expectations of his name from the very beginning. Where his parents expected him to be as fiery and intense as he looked, Blood was a patient, kind, and inquisitive hatchling. Where his fully grown siblings spent their days honing their fighting skills and magical abilities, he preferred to disappear for days at a time, venturing out further and further from his clan's lair in the Crystalspine Reaches, towards the learning institutions of the Focal Point.

When Blood would return, he would guiltily avoid the gaze of his father, a decorated veteran Imperial, and attempt to atone for the perceived slights to his family's warrior lineage. The next few weeks would see him limping desultorily around the clan lands, nursing a series of cuts and bruises, determined to be better, trying to make his father proud.

“He just needs to try harder,” Blood would overhear. “He'll never amount to much if he keeps his snout buried in those parchments of his!”

And, because Blood loved his family, he would try harder. Leave his parchments for reading secretively by candlelight at night, and spend his days with his siblings and the other warriors in the clan, drilling, exercising, training. But as with most things, one cannot fit a square peg into a round hole. Blood learned a little, but despite his best efforts, his father never got the valiant warrior he dreamed of.

The only dragon who understood Blood's efforts was his brother Perses. Hatched the same day, Blood and Perses shared a strong bond. Perses, a seasoned mage, saw his brother's struggles. He encouraged Blood, both in the daily exercises whenever Blood returned from his wanderings, as well as the wanderings themselves. He wanted Blood to be happy, and would often stand up to their father on Blood's behalf.

But Blood couldn't bear the notion of disappointing his parents. So he put aside his dreams, and continued to try.

Until one day, a mysterious illness spread like wildfire throughout the clan, felling hatchlings and elders alike. The healers were mystified. They'd never seen anything like it, and their efforts to combat the epidemic were in vain.

But Blood recognized one of the rarer symptoms from the parchments he had brought back from his previous wandering. Hurrying back to retrieve them from their hiding space, he rushed past his protesting father, disappearing into the nearby forest. He returned hours later with armfuls of herbs and mushrooms, which he and the clan healer distilled all night. The next morning, the medicine was administered to the patients, whose symptoms began lessening within hours. Blood had found a cure.

Suddenly, Blood's wanderings and parchment readings weren't silly anymore, or a waste of time. His father didn't even sigh anymore when Blood went past, absentmindedly peering at a note. Finally, he could spend his time doing what he wanted to do. Learning.

The day his parents left to serve the Tidelord and Arcanist, Blood stood with the rest of his siblings, watching the send-off quietly. Just before he left, his father pulled him aside. Lowering his head to look Blood in the face, father and son gazed at each other for one last time. Finally, his father placed one clawed hand on Blood's shoulder and squeezed.

“I know I have always been hard on you,” his father rumbled. “Perhaps, you think, unfairly so. Your mother certainly thought so.” Glancing at his mate, Blood's father met her glare, winced almost imperceptibly, and cleared his throat.

“And she was right. I should not have pushed you to try and be what you are clearly not. You do not have a warrior's spirit. You never did. What you do have, is a warrior's strength of heart and mind. And a healer's gift. You've made this clan proud, you've made me proud. And I go to serve the Tidelord knowing that I have left the world a dragon that will make it a better place, not with a sword, but with his mind.” With a final squeeze, Blood's father turned to join his mate and make his final journey.

The next day, Blood said goodbye to Perses, the rest of the clan and set out east, towards the lands of light, where he had heard that a renowned healer was making pioneering inroads in the field of magical medicine. He would go, and he would learn.

After all, the word Blood can evoke another kind of imagery. Health, healing, survival. Life.

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Lore by Illyrael