History
“You must get bored out here.” A voice sounded off to his right as he sat motionless outside the shared den of Reaper and Saskia. Ever since he had first proven himself in the Pit, he had grown closer and closer to the Speaker of the clan. Even Reaper, the hateful being that he was, had grudgingly come to respect the virus if not purely because of his power. He eyed her unblinkingly, intense eyes changing from orange, to red, to the traditional yellow, and to the silvery blue he now defaulted to. It was better if no one suspected he was from the light territories, less connections to be made that way.

“I keep myself busy,” he said after a moment, looking back out at the empty tunnel, torchlight and red luminescent gems dimly lighting it up, “plenty to think about.” He tensed a bit when she came closer, sitting beside him. He didn’t like it when others got too close. He could feel the heat they produced, uninfected biomass just asking to be consumed. But he couldn’t consume her. Physically couldn’t. It both relieved and frustrated him, that demon’s power of hers. Even so, there was nothing saying he couldn’t tear her apart in seconds. Eventually there’d be nothing to heal over.

“That sounds like a load of bull, Alex.” The name made him blink, looking back down at the albino skydancer. Right, he had confided his past in her, if simply to have someone else know. She had only proven herself to be trustworthy, and more than a little fascinated by him. She’d heard his horror story and sat enraptured, almost begging for more. He couldn’t understand how someone could be so… accepting. Especially of something like him, who ate dragons like her. An apex predator, the lion and the lamb.

Saskia stretched out beside him, clearly getting comfortable. Reaper had left the lair, off to devour souls or whatever it was he did. He merely observed her body language, and decided he ought to give her some credit where it was due. Lamb? More like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She would not be one of the most influential dragons in this lair without reason. She ate dragons too, though not in the way he did. She killed, he killed. They were both monsters, of varying degrees.

Most in this clan were. It was why he’d stuck around. The others accepted and respected him, and all he’d had to do was defeat his challenger.

“I know how restless you are. You aren’t built to settle like this. You know even though you’re welcome here, you aren’t obligated to stay, right?” The genuinely concerned look she gave him made the tension leave him. No one had ever looked at him the way she did, like she actually gave a damn about him. He had seen that look hundreds of times from memories, but none of those looks had ever been for him.

“I know,” he replied shortly, and that was it. He didn’t want to tell her why, exactly, he stayed, and she seemed fine with letting him keep his secrets. She didn’t pry, and maybe that was why everyone spoke to the Speaker. She didn’t spill their secrets, as ironic as that was for someone called Speaker.

They lapsed into silence, and Saskia seemed about a second away from passing out right next to him. The thought made him uneasy. How could she possibly feel safe enough to sleep around him? Even if he couldn’t consume her, his potential for destruction alone was immeasurable.

“How are you so relaxed around me?” He finally snapped out, and Saskia jolted from her sleepy haze to leer at him. “How can you act like this is perfectly normal?”

“Alex,” she drawled, propping her slender skull up on a wrist casually, “you’ve been here for nearly a month and you’re asking this now?” At his serious glare, she sighed. “I’m not going to say that your situation is something I come across everyday, but this clan began partially because it was something I, and a lot of others, needed. Call it cliche, but the outcasts have to go somewhere. In all the years I’ve been alive, ever since my soul merged with my demon’s, nothing has ever been normal. Nothing about this clan, me, or you is normal in a traditional sense. I thought I’d seen it all after I met Reaper, but everyone who joined this clan after proved me wrong. I guess you could say it’s impossible to surprise me anymore.” She smirked in a rueful way. “Or so I thought until I met you. You’re so beyond anything I’ve ever met, Alex. You were made to be a biological weapon, but you’ve proven to be so much more.” Her smirk twisted into a wide, teasing grin at that. “You could kill me if you wanted to, might take some effort, but you could. And despite knowing this, you don’t.”

He turned away from that observation. Yeah, he could. He knew that, like she said, and so did she.

“So why?” She inquired. “Why don’t you, if you can?”

“I don’t… want to.” He hesitantly responded, and her feathers perked up at that curiously.

“And that, Alex, is what I love about you the most. You prove you’re your own person time and time again with something as simple as a decision, despite everything you have been through. That’s why I’m so relaxed. I know what you are, but I also know what you aren’t.”

The bioweapon fell silent again as he processed this, and he didn’t say anything else as he heard her soft breathing grow steady with slumber. She was either incredibly stupid, or incredibly brave. Maybe a little of both. But she was honest with him, and he decided that even though he still had so many questions, everything she had told him tonight satisfied him. For now. He still had so much to figure out, but that could wait until she’d woken up.
About
It had been a month since he’d first woken up lying on that table, two strangers repeating what he could consider his name. Mercer, Alexander J. That was his name, who he was. Or so he thought. Turns out he wasn’t exactly a dragon like he had assumed. His name? Stolen. His form? Stolen- from the very person who had created him. His memories? All stolen. Everything he was, he had stolen from people he knew the most intimate parts of, and yet had never truly met.

It was a lot to take in, and Alex, or, well, Blacklight, as he was truly called, was left with even more questions than he had before. He wasn’t a dragon, but a virus. A bioweapon, carefully cultivated in a lab in the Sunbeam Ruins, where no one would have ever expected something so abominable to take place.

Hell, on his first day he had eaten- consumed- three unlucky dragons who had simply been doing their jobs. Granted, they had tried to contain him, and the confused, freshly awakened virus definitely did not want that. Swallowed them in a flurry of tendrils, twisted their mass into his own. They were a part of him now, their voices swimming in his skull. He quickly learned that he was good at blocking them out.

As the month passed, he learned more about all he could do. He seemed to have limitless strength, hefting redwoods and mammoth-sized creatures with terrifying ease. He could smash concrete and stone like they were glass, and he could move with unbridled speed. He was agile, as well, easily able to contort his body and dash about with little hinderance. Granted, the more mass he consumed, the heavier he became, and flight soon proved too difficult when he had just devoured a hefty meal. Wounds sealed instantly, and the more magic and weaponry he was exposed to, the more resistant he became. He evolved, adapted, to the fighting around him.

Bioweapon. He was made for this.

Then he started to change his body. Massive claws, blades, clubs, shields. He could coil himself inwards and erupt into thousands of barbed tendrils if he so desired, decimating everything- alive or not- in his path. His flesh could harden into armor at the cost of mobility, but with it on, it was nearly impenetrable.

By the time he consumed everyone involved in the creation of his being, he was resigned, but frustrated. He was the virus, Blacklight, built for war. He craved to always be moving, fighting, killing, but a part of him still held onto its morality. Did he cave to those instincts, to consume and evolve, or did he hold back? Follow the part of him that craved to fulfill all the simple desires that the thousands of voices in his head also desired?

His opinion of dragonkind was low. They created him, and yet treated him as a monster. So he left the ruins, and followed the scent of sickness. Perhaps there, he could find what he was looking for.