Loveless

I don’t think that any of you, my little hatchlings, have ever seen a dragon truly scarred by the lands of the Plaguebringer. And I am not talking about those that lost a limb or the strength of their wings because a virus has started to eat them up from within. I am not talking about those who collapse because their lungs fail to filter through the acids surrounding them, not even about those whose skin is covered with mutated flesh.
No- what I will tell you tonight is a story about a dragon whose soul was infected.
What do you say? The soul cannot get sick? I won’t argue with this, little one. We can also say that the dragon’s brain had suffered, invaded by parasites, if you like that better- it doesn’t matter. Because the core of the story is this:
There was once a dragon who thought they had lost their love- when in reality, the only thing they had lost was their mind…

He would never forget this moment.
The heavy, poisonous air of the Wyrmwound, the dazzling heat, the sound of cracking bones. Their first encounter.
“I have heard of you.”
His voice was steady, calm. He did not feel any fear, despite the rumors that had been whispered from dragon to dragon, Clan to Clan: The rumors of a mindless being, not aware of its own decay.

I can see, you wonder who ‘he’ is? A Wildclaw that has long been dead- just like all the other heroes you know from stories that are set so long before your parents have hatched. By now his name has been forgotten, and whenever you will encounter this tale, you will hear a different name- let me just call him ‘Shikran’ this time.
He had been a tracker, a hunter, a warrior- someone who was called to chase down animals or members of the Beastclans that endangered our territories. However, this was the first time he had been sent out to follow the trails of one of us… if you want to call the creature he encountered a true dragon.

It was a Mirror- Shikran could tell that as he got closer, his enormous claws making clicking sounds on the dried land.
“Won’t you talk to me?”
Four eyes were directed at him and for a moment, he stood still. What he had expected were the menacing red eyes of the Plague Flight, but what he saw was pure white. An Ice dragon? He tilted his head, scanning the Mirror carefully. No, not an Ice dragon at all- this wasn’t the color of snow that the dragons down on the Icefield showed when they opened their eyes for the first time. It was a dead color. Blind eyes, making it impossible to tell where this dragon originated from.
Finally, the Mirror seemed to direct its attention towards Shikran- and away from the carcass underneath its paws. It opened its jaws widely, spreading its thin ragged wings as if it wanted to chase away the intruder- but Shikran wasn’t that easy to impress.
He kept walking closer, careful to dodge any sudden attacks, but none of those occurred.
A choking sound was audible when the Mirror raised its snout to suck in the air, sniffing the Wildclaw’s scent. The scent of life.
“What is your name?”
“No.”
He narrowed his eyes, not sure whether he should take it as a bad sign that this dragon obviously lost its ability to talk correctly, or whether he should see it as an improvement that it had answered at all.
His muscles still tensed, he now slowly directed his gaze at the dead body on the ground. No animal. A dragon, a Pearlcatcher, apparently an older female. The wound in her back spoke of a nasty attack from behind, without any honor or even compassion- killed like prey.
“Why did you do this?”
A sudden jolt seemed to rush through the Mirror as it raised its head as if it had been waiting for this question.
“Love.”
Its voice was rough, rusted, not used to being needed for speech anymore. And before Shikran had the chance to ask what it meant by that, the Mirror dug its claw deep into the dead Pearlcatcher, reaching through its back all the way to its chest. With a rapid motion, accompanied by a ripping sound that made his stomach churn in disgust, the nameless dragon pulled out a lump of flesh. Was this…?
“Heart… Heart is a place of love I cannot feel love in this heart why.”
Now that it had started to talk more, Shikran suddenly wished for the silence to be back. Its way of speaking, the emotionless concatenation of words, the monotony of its voice, made him believe even less that he was facing one of his own kind.
And the creature made use of his shocked stillness. Within the blink of an eye, it was gone.

I have mentioned that this was their ‘first encounter’, haven’t I? Naturally, this means they had met again. And again and again. Eventually, Shikran had decided to settle down in the Scarred Wastelands, he chose a Clan to live with and even a mate. There was no other option for him: He could not leave before he had freed Sornieth from this personified plague that kept on tracking down dragons and killing them, searching for something it called ‘love’. But whenever he had managed to get face to face with it, the Mirror had found a way to escape- often enough giving Shikran the feeling that in reality, it had been the other way around and /he/ had been the one who had been able to escape.
It was many risings of the celestial bodies later that the word was spread that ‘Loveless’, what the dragons had started to call the creature by now, had been seen just a day’s journey from Shikran’s new Clan. He had almost refused to go on the hunt- only this once. Just a few days ago, his mate and him had become parents for the first time- and he didn’t want to miss any moment with his hatchlings, he wanted to be there when they started their first attempts at flying, when they spoke their first words. It was his mate who finally convinced him to leave, pointing out that he would never have a better chance than now to finally slay the enemy- close to their home where he could hunt rested, not having to fight the Mirror in exhaustion after days of travelling around. He didn’t know it yet- but this would be the last but one time he’d meet the lunatic Mirror.

He followed the fresh, sticky trail, wishing he could talk himself into believing that the vermillion colored fluid was an animal’s blood- but his nose, that traitor, didn’t want to allow him to betray himself. It smelled like the lost life of an Imperial, a very young one- the Mirror had not yet managed to bear down an adult of these impressively large dragons, but given the dirty tricks it used, this was just a matter of time.
Shikran arrived just in the right moment to hear the snapping sound with which the creature cut through the Imperial’s spine to open the skull from behind.
“Loveless.”
The Mirror didn’t even look up, but its laughter, like claws on gritstone, filled the air.
“The name I got from you amuses me still.”
It had regained its speech, but whether this was a good thing, whether it even mattered anymore, Shikran didn’t know.
He watched the Mirror’s loathsome activities- it was too late for the Imperial anyway, and there was no use attacking tail over head. He had to wait for an opening.
“No matter how many hearts I took, I found no love. I took eyes, which reflect those we should love, but they didn’t give me what I wanted either. What else is there left? Love happens in our minds. I will take this one’s brain to feel it. Love.”
It wasn’t the first time he listened to those promiscuous words, this logic of a dissolving character. But he would never get used to it. He attacked.

This fight was bloody and the closest he had ever come to finally get rid of the calamity they called Loveless. But ‘close’ is never close enough. And when the Mirror suddenly let go of him, he had the impression that it hadn’t been because it feared him- no. It rather seemed as if the creature had suddenly realized something. And he knew it well enough to tell that whatever it was, it couldn’t be a good thing. Only when Shikran, in loss of any other possibilities, started to return home did he understand what had upset him deep inside: Loveless had fled the moment it had managed to sink its teeth into his shoulder. The moment it was close enough to notice the change in his smell- a smell that it had learned to recognize by now. You tend to carry around the scent of your hatchlings in your feathers when you spend a lot of time with them. He ran as fast as he could.

Too late. Too late. Too late. TOO LATE. Two short, simple words. Two words that could end a whole world. The gaze in his mate’s wide eyes, all empty [and he refused to think about it, but could he deny that those blank eyes looked awfully familiar?]. Their nest, filled with feathers, tiny feathers. Wildclaw and Coatl, a daughter and two sons, not out to play, not out to visit other hatchlings, but simply gone. A whining noise, somewhere close, but no matter how often he turned around, he couldn’t find the source- until he realized it came from his own throat.
Then a rustle, someone approaching. When he turned around, he almost didn’t recognize it. Neatly folded paws, wings orderly folded on the back. Loveless.
“Where are they?”
“With me.”
“Where are-“
“Don’t waste your time. They are with me.”
“But why?”
“Love.”
“I don’t understand!”
“There is no bigger love than that of a hatchling for its parents. Pure love. Unconditional love. They know nothing besides this love. I will feast on their love, feast on it until the source is dry. I will come to know love. Thanks to you. Love.”
And this was their last encounter.

Shikran did try to find his hatchlings, but all you have to know is that he failed. Whatever lands in Loveless’ claws will not return- and this is where his story ends. But not Loveless’ story. You look at me with wide round eyes, but I have mentioned it before: Today, the heroes of old stories have all passed away. However, the villains rarely leave this world. It is impossible, you say? You may believe what you want to. But if a disease managed to make this Mirror forget how to love, why shouldn’t it make it forget how to die as well?
I have never met Loveless myself, no. But all I can do is to spread the words I learned when I was a hatchling like you. That this dragon is still among us. That it is satisfied with its method of stealing away hatchlings in order to inhale its twisted idea of love. And that none of you should wander in the shadows alone- for you will never know when Loveless is seeking to learn about love again.



Second place in the 2017 Trickmurk Circus Writing Contest
Theme: Horror Story
Max. word count: three pages

Moodboard by @perifinite, find it here